1 Chapter 1, Awakening
Awakening, I noticed I wasn't in my room anymore. I knew for sure my mattress wasn't made of grass, and the walls of my room weren't airy enough to let in the breeze tussling my hair. Slowly, I opened my crusty eyes and beheld a cloudless blue sky, its noon sun hanging directly above me.
Yup, definitely not my room.
Sitting up, I gave an involuntary grunt of discomfort. Sweet Mother Mary, my joints were stiff! Like I hadn't used them for months! But I couldn't spend all day on my back, not when there was still cramming to do for my finals. As much as I hated them, I was going to ace those damn exams before celebrating the end of my high school Senior year by degenerating into a wild party animal.
I staggered onto my feet, only for my knees to give out as I pitched forward and planted my face back into the grass. God, I hope nobody saw that.
A smattering of innocent giggles dashed those hopes.
"… kill me now," I grumbled, my face still kissing mother Earth while my butt hung in the air.
"Perish the thought, good stranger. It'd be a crime against Naga to deprive Ylisse of such a handsome face."
Huh? What'd she say?
Naga? Ylisse?
Why'd those words sound so familiar? Oh right, didn't they come from that one game I played a while back? What was it called again … Fire Emblem, Awakening! While I loved Nintendo games, Awakening was actually my first Fire Emblem experience!
Wait a darn second, did Anthony drag and ditch my unconscious rear at some outdoor FE convention?
Swearing justifiable vengeance against my old frenemy (my retaliation would be legendary), I felt someone's small hands wrap around my right arm and struggle to pull me to my feet; without much success.
"Oof! What've you been eating? Bears?" the stranger—female, by the sound of her voice—asked.
"Hot pockets and cup ramen," I groaned as I steadily rose. Warmth and feeling were gradually returning to my limbs, and with the stranger's aid I found myself standing upright. Even so, I was forced to lean on her for support, as my knocking knees were having difficulty supporting my weight.
Geez, was I hit by a car or something? Why was I feeling so weak? But more importantly: Where the hell did you ditch me, Anthony?!
Because all I could see around me was unobstructed grasslands. Ordinarily, I might've spared a minute or ten admiring the view, but right now it was taking everything I had not to freak out. I lived in San Francisco, damn it! Born and raised! This mass expanse of untouched wild land simply didn't exist in or anywhere near California's Golden City! Did that son of a bitch (sorry, Mrs. Mills; you know I love you, but your son's a massive troll) drug me, haul my ass to the SFO Airport, then leave me in Eurasia?
"Hey. You alright?" my helper asked. "You look like a merchant ran off with your coin purse. Their name wouldn't happen to be Anna, would it?"
Gathering my wits (and plotting Anthony's demise), I looked to the kind stranger, who was taking time out of their day to carry my confused butt.
She's cute, was the first thing I thought. Her sun-kissed skin was sparsely dotted with freckles, accentuating her boyish smile, and her wide brown eyes met mine without fear or nervousness, instead brimming with an innocent curiosity.
Wait, I'm staring like a creep. Quick, crank up the charm and say something!
"… wazzup?"
Nailed it.
Thankfully, whoever this was laughed in good humor.
"Sorry, but I don't recognize your accent. Are you from Valm?" she asked as she kept my arm slung over her thin shoulders.
California, I wanted to blurt, but couldn't with my tongue still feeling so heavy. "… I …" But the more I tried, the easier it got, "… don't know your name."
Her smile widened. "Call me Chelsea, good sir. Daughter of Johan. What might yours be?"
"Y-Yeah, I'm—"
[Ding!]
"WHUT?!" I flailed out of Chelsea's startled grip as I sent myself sprawling back onto the ground. What the heck was that? It sounded like I got a notification from my iPhone, except it came from the inside of my head instead of from my phone!
Then, a steel-blue holographic screen—like what you'd see in those futuristic Sci-Fi moves—appeared a few feet in front of my face, bearing the words: [Transmigration successful! Welcome, Champion, to the world of Fire Emblem, Awakening!]
I could only gape, my mind unable to process all the emotions I was going through. Just to make sure I wasn't entirely crazy, I pointed at the floating screen and asked Chelsea, "Can you see this?"
Chelsea stared at me, then at the tip of my finger, before sighing, "Should've known. Of course the first gorgeous man I come across is as crazy as a drunk Plegian."
I'll take that as a "no".
Then the screen changed, now displaying:
NAME: ???
AGE: 16
CLASS: ???
LEVEL: 1
EXP: 0/100
HIT POINTS: 24 / 24
STRENGTH: 9
MAGIC: 1
SKILL: 8
SPEED: 8
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 7
RESISTANCE: 8
Oh God, oh GOD! Please tell me those aren't what I think they are! I rubbed my eyes, hoping in vain this was all simply the result of some seriously sophisticated eye crust. A long shot, I know … but still!
No such luck. As foreboding and resignation weighed down my shoulders, the holographic list continued on.
PERSONAL SKILL 1: [Awaiting Selection]
PERSONAL SKILL 2: N/A
PERSONAL SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 1: N/A
SKILL 2: N/A
SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 4: N/A
SKILL 5: N/A
"You still with me, Mr. Plegian?" Chelsea asked, waving her hand in front of my face. Her fingers passed through the holographic menu like it wasn't even there.
"… I'm not Plegian," I mumbled, still trying to wrap my mind around the bullshit happening right in front of my eyes. This wasn't a prank. I wasn't at some outdoor Fire Emblem convention. That screen said [Transmigration Successful!]
I think … I was actually in the Fire Emblem game!
How?! Why?!?
"Could've fooled me," Chelsea said playfully. "You're not going to suddenly get on your knees and shout 'Praise the unholy Grima!' are you? Figures all the good looking ones are either cultists or nutters."
My left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "So which are you? Cultist, or nutter?"
That made Chelsea pause, after which she shyly played with her auburn ponytail while a mild blush dusted her cheeks. But her moment of bashfulness was short-lived as she cleared her throat and gleefully asked, "Are you saying I'm good looking?"
"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder."
"That a fancy way of saying you think I'm good looking?"
I groaned, but found I couldn't stay irritated with Chelsea for long. With a resigned chuckle, I said. "Yeah, I think you're cute, though I have to question your taste in men."
I mean, seriously: calling me handsome? I've been called many things: beanpole, Slender Man Jr., and Mr. Everest ("Seriously, are you ever going to stop growing?") amongst other things, but "handsome" was never one of them.
Chelsea gave me a puzzled glance before muttering under her breath, "…can't tell if he's humble or bragging." Aloud, she asked, "So, do you enjoy taking naps in the middle of nowhere, my good-looking sir?"
"Believe it or not, I've no idea where I am or how I got here."
"Ah, say no more. Happens to my older brother all the time. He and his friends will spend a whole night drinking, and usually need a search party to find their sorry rumps the following morning. Although"—she leaned towards me and took a cursory sniff—"you don't reek of alcohol like he always does."
"I'd say my circumstances are a bit different," I said a bit defensively. Damn it, I haven't even enjoyed my first bottle of booze yet! So don't go writing me off as a alcoholic already!
"Well," Chelsea timidly twiddled her thumbs, "if you're lost, my village is nearby."
"… do you make it a habit of inviting people you don't know to your home?"
"Only the really handsome ones, which means you're the first," Chelsea winked.
I felt she needed to get her eyes checked, but if I really was in the world of Fire Emblem then chances were prescription eyeglasses didn't exist here. Hold up, didn't Miriel—one of the Shepards—have glasses? Guess I stood corrected.
Honestly, what I really wanted was to throw myself at the ground (again) and thrash about while whining how none of this should be possible, but not in front of an audience. I'd fully freak out after I was alone.
"After you," I acquiesced.
Chelsea beamed before grabbing my hand and practically dragging me away.
As we walked, my energetic guide talking a mile a minute, my thoughts inevitably wandered towards my messed up situation.
I, a high school Senior, somehow found myself in a video game. God, it was like I was the protagonist in one of those fanfictions I liked to read on occasion. But that's the thing: I like reading about them, not participating in one!
Screw this, I wanted to go home! The Fire Emblem world didn't have electrical appliances, videos games, my favorite TV shows, or even freaking toilet paper! I enjoyed the conveniences of modern day society, damn it! If I was going to be sent into a video game world, why couldn't it have been someplace like Cyberpunk 2077? At least they have the internet, along with a whole host of other terrible things.
Stop. Just … just breathe. I couldn't let my panic propagate out of control. Chelsea gave me a worried glance, and I tried to reassure her with a smile; a strained one.
At least I had the GAMER system on my side, a mysterious power that would let me level up and grow stronger like a video game character. That had to count for something. Hell, to think I'd live to see the day where I had my own stat screen.
Then I realized something that nearly made me crap a brick.
In the GAMER fics I read, didn't the main character normally come with the super great ability known as [Gamer's Mind]? The amazing skill that let them calmly and logically think through any and every situation, regardless of how perilous or daunting? Basically, to view the world as a game. So why did I almost have my own panic attack seconds ago?
I brought up my STATUS screen with a flicker of thought and glared at the holographic words and numbers that popped up.
It wasn't there.
The must-have skill, [Gamer's Mind], wasn't there!
Oh crap, oh crap! I was so screwed! You can't just drop a modern day person into a medieval setting and expect everything to come up all sunshine and daises! Even if this game was rated T for TEENS, the protagonists and antagonists led armies that killed one another! I, on the other hand, had never even punched anyone before! The most I'd done was play Slap Bet with my friends!
I was totally screwed.
[Ding!]
I barely flinched as the damnable noise echoed in my head again.
[You have chosen to receive the skill <Gamer's Mind>! Confirm?]
... what?
WHAT?!
Explain, damn it!
[Ding!]
[As a newcomer to this world, you are granted the limited opportunity to receive one PERSONAL SKILL of your choice for free! Do you wish to receive <Gamer's Mind>?]
I snapped my eyes back towards my STATUS window. There it was! Underneath my current stats!
PERSONAL SKILL 1: [Awaiting Selection]
Holy crack! I could choose any skill? Hell, could I make one up?
[Indeed! Will you receive <Gamer's Mind>?]
I almost blurted "YES PLEASE!", but held it in with titanic force of will. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Why waste my one chance on [Gamer's Mind] when I could have any overpowered ability I could humanly think of?
Wait, wait, wait … if I can have any skill …
Then I want a skill that'll send me back home!
[Ding!]
[Error! Transdimensional transportation abilities exceed the current SYSTEM's capabilities! Please choose again!]
I almost collapsed; almost. I actually half-expected this. Such a convenient skill would've made things too easy, wouldn't it?
Still, it looked like the SYSTEM had a hard limit, so I couldn't ask for any world-destroying powers. I suppose asking for the Infinity Gauntlet (plus Stones) and snapping Grima, the big bad, out of existence was off the table.
You know what? Screw this, and screw you SYSTEM!
[Ding!]
Oh for crying out loud, what now?!
[You have chosen to receive the skill <Screw You>! Confirm?]
… and what kind of skill was that?
[<Screw You>! Skill Description: Wow the world with your outstanding sexual prowess! Guys and gals will become putty in your artful hands and the masterful use of your peni—!]
I closed the screen with an angry slash of my hand. This damn SYSTEM was trolling me! It had to be! I might as well start calling it ANTHONY 2.0 instead!
"Suffering another bout of insanity?" Chelsea asked me. Unable to see the SYSTEM's screens, she had no idea of my inner turmoil.
"It'll pass," I said with a wry smile. "Honestly, I'm more worried about you."
Chelsea cocked her head. "How so?"
"You're the one leading an obviously insane guy to your place."
Chelsea considered this, and giggled. "Wow, you're right! I really should be dropping you off at a Ylissean garrison! Instead, I'm taking you home! Ahh, woe is me! How could my father have raised such an unfilial daughter?"
"I'm sure he did his best."
"That he did. Too bad he ended up with me!"
I couldn't help but laugh lightly at her antics. The heavy stone of despair lodged in my stomach lightened ever so slightly.
Boy, was I thanking my lucky stars that I'd been found by Chelsea. What if I'd been spotted by a bandit? I would've been mugged and killed within minutes of entering this world!
Or worse, I could've been discovered by Chrom! Don't get me wrong, Chrom—one of the main protagonists of the game—is a good guy, but associating with the Prince of Ylisse was a one-way ticket to entangling myself in the Awakening plotline. That would involve fighting in kill-or-be-killed conflicts.
Pardon me if I wanted to stay as far away from the coming wars as possible.
Speaking of Chrom, what was the blue-haired dude up to right now? Had he bumped into Robin yet? Well, doesn't matter to me. From playing the game, I knew the good guys would prevail against evil in the end. Happy endings for everyone! No need to risk upsetting the established storyline.
"Look!" Chelsea snapped me out of my musing. "We're almost there!"
Off in the distance, I saw an honest-to-God medieval village. There were dirt roads, wooden houses with thatched roofs, domesticated cows and sheep milling in their pens, and townsfolk dressed in uncomfortable-looking plain clothes.
Speaking of clothes, I only just noticed I was outfitted the same way. I wore stiff leather boots, rugged pants courser than sandpaper, and a simple brown jerkin. I already missed my T-shirt and jeans. Chelsea's attire was similarly dated, although she wore a long-hemmed dress.
"It's quaint," I said politely.
Chelsea snickered. "That your nice way of saying my hometown is boring?" I sputtered up a mess trying to apologize, but she merrily waved me off. "Looks like someone's from the big city. Ylisstol?"
"Much farther away," I sighed.
That only piqued my companion's growing curiosity. "I'd love to hear all about it! C'mon! Let me introduce you to my father!"
Chelsea redoubled her grip on my hand and hauled me towards her home. Along the way, we passed by a clear creek running along the edge of the village. When I gave the calm waters a passing glance, my heart nearly stop.
I saw a reflection. More specifically, my reflection, as who else could that person walking beside Chelsea be?
The problem? That person couldn't possibly be me!
The gobsmacked man staring back at me from the water's surface had light-colored—practically gold—hair, blue eyes so clear they were unblemished sapphires, and a medium yet sturdy build that screamed years of practical combat experience.
Yet despite this "stranger" not bearing even a passing resemblance to my original self, I recognized who this was.
It was Link, the Hero of the Legend of Zelda series, one of my favorite games.
Sweet Jiminy Cricket, I was inhabiting the body of the Hero of Hyrule!
Chelsea, noticing I'd come to an abrupt stop, saw what I was so engrossed with, and faux-groaned, "Please don't say you're a narcissist on top of an insane cultist. There's only so much crazy a girl can take."
Letting her playful mockery go through one ear and pass out the other (I saw my ears were rounded instead of pointed), I raised a trembling finger at my reflection and stammered, "Is … is that really me?"
Now Chelsea stared at me with genuine concern. "You must've had one heck of a night out."
I didn't have an answer to that. Hell, what could I say? I was trapped in a game world while occupying the body of an entirely separate game character! Could my life get any weirder?
Seeing how my mind basically shut down, Chelsea shrugged before resuming our trek to her village.
~
Here I was, trying to sleep in an empty sheep pen. The smelly hay was horribly uncomfortable. It'd be a miracle if I got a wink of sleep tonight.
I vaguely remembered being introduced to Chelsea's dad, some dude reeking of herbs and suffering from perpetual bedhead. Don't think he liked me, because he didn't even bother getting out of his seat to greet me. I couldn't blame him, seeing how I was just some stranger his daughter brought home with her.
They shared their dinner with me, and while I appreciated their hospitality … the food sucked. All they had was dried bread harder than rock, boiled vegetables, and some fruits Chelsea picked from bushes growing in their backyard.
Really hammered in how I was a long way from home. Still, I didn't want to come off as ungrateful so I ate with a smile and thanked them for the meal.
"Psst! Psssssst!"
I craned my head towards the pen's entrance. Chelsea was there, with her familiar smile.
"Still awake?" she asked as she flopped onto the stack of hay next to mine, scattering strands of straw every which way.
"Can't sleep," I said, brushing several of the loose pieces from my face.
"Ah, I get it. Can't catch a wink without your nighttime medicine?"
"For the last time, I'm not an alcoholic."
"That's what they all say."
"Just how many alcoholics do you know?"
"A lot, though most of them are my brother's friends."
"I didn't see your brother today," I noted.
Chelsea shifted in her bed of hay to get comfortable. "He and dad don't get along, so he lives in the next town over. It's a week's walk from here, but you might see him if you stick around."
"You sure you want that?"
Chelsea shrugged playfully. "I mean, for an insane Plegian cultist and alcoholic, you're a pretty nice guy. Not nice enough for my dad to risk you sleeping under the same roof as me, but still nice."
"Well, I'll try my best not to convert you into a fanatical Grimleal," I joked.
That earned me a happy laugh.
A beat of silence passed between us, until Chelsea—in a much more serious and genuine tone—said, "Thanks for being here."
"Um … you're welcome?" I was unsure what I'd done to deserve such gratitude.
Noting my confusion, Chelsea explained, "I … erm … don't have many friends here. I mean, this place is my home, and I love it to death … but the feeling's not exactly mutual. Most everyone else my age find me to be a bit … much, and all the elders keep saying the only thing I really need to worry about is snagging a good husband."
Something I expected from a medieval society.
"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're great," I said, meaning every word.
Chelsea's face almost split from her smile.
Feeling a bit embarrassed seeing someone look at me with such sincere gratitude, I flippantly added, "So, a husband, huh? That wouldn't happen to be the real reason you got to know a nobody like me?"
Chelsea blinked, then fell back into her haystack cackling. "Sorry, handsome, but no matter how good looking you are you're not getting under this dress that easily."
My face and neck heated up at her implication. "T-That's not—!"
"Teasing, just teasing!"
Huffing, I grabbed a fistful of hay and lobbed it into Chelsea's face. She accepted my declaration of war with her own clump of straw. Soon, the sheep pen became ground zero of our juvenile hay war.
But at the end, I wound up sleeping peacefully.
~
The following days were some of the most trying of my life. I was a fish out of water, and every time I really thought about where I was I'd find myself gasping for air. Acclimating was harrowing, as I was forced to confront all the little things I'd taken for granted. There were no comfortable clothes, no convenient sources of running water, no hot water, no toilets, and so on and so forth.
The first time I took a dump here was … an unforgettable experience. Let's leave it at that.
Honestly, I would've loathed every second if it weren't for Chelsea. Her positive energy had a way of brightening my day, making me feel like I wasn't doomed or alone. It'd only been a few days, but I was more than happy to call her my friend. Since I was basically living at her place, I tried to help out where I could. Her dad was the village's apothecary, meaning he was the one you came to if you needed a vulnerary. I asked if he wanted my help concocting a few, and he scoffed before throwing a thick tome at my face, saying I wasn't much help if I couldn't even read his hand-written instruction manual.
Jokes on him! I had the benefit of a modern day education! Plus, all the writing was in English! I didn't question my good fortune, merely embraced it.
Then came the unexpected side-benefit.
[Ding!]
[You've successfully expanded your knowledge with new intelligence! +1 to MAGIC!]
That was the pop-up the SYSTEM provided when I finished reading the book. Opening my stats menu, I saw the SYSTEM wasn't trolling me. Sure enough, my magic had jumped from a 1 to a 2.
That's when I remembered: one of the staples of GAMER fics was the ability to increase your attributes through certain actions. Like how working out could increase one's strength. While my stats were closer to a Fire Emblem character's than a typical GAMER's, it seemed this trope still held true.
I couldn't deny it; seeing that bit of improvement made me feel giddy. On top of that, it finally hit me: this world had magic! A world were mages and sorcerers existed, flinging fireballs and calling down bolts of lightning on their enemies! Could I do that too? Hot damn, I sure wanted to try! I might be stuck in a world I didn't want to be in, but that didn't mean I had to spend all my time brooding!
But first, I put what I just read about medicine into practice. Borrowing Johan's apothecary set, I tried crafting my first vulnerary.
[Ding!]
[Your dexterous use of your hands in a new craft has made you more skillful! +1 to SKILL!]
You know, maybe things weren't so bad after all.
~
"… the current Exalt is how old?" I asked again. I was helping Chelsea hoe her family field for potatoes, and asked what she knew about Ylissean current event.
"Exalt Emmeryn recently enjoyed her 15th summer this year," Chelsea answered as she tossed her potatoes into the sack she'd brought along.
It'd been a while since I last played Fire Emblem Awakening, but I could say with 99% certainty that Emmeryn, older sister to Chrom and Lissa (and ruler of the halidom of Ylisse), was not a 15 year old teenager during the events of the game.
"Doesn't Emmeryn—?"
"Exalt Emmeryn," Chelsea corrected.
"—Exalt Emmeryn have siblings?"
"She does! Prince Chrom and Princess Lissa."
"And … how old are they?"
"Prince Chrom was born six years after Exalt Emmeryn"—so he's NINE years old right now?!—"and Princess Lissa came into this world the same year the Mad Exalt drew his final breath."
"… so?"
"So she's five summers old."
Oh God, I didn't arrive here during the start of the game! I was in the past! Worse, I'd no idea when Awakening cannon started! How old was Chrom when he first bumped into the amnesiac Robin? I had absolutely no idea!
Another stray thought almost made me collapse out of sheer dread. Make no mistake, I wanted to return to good old Earth, and at the moment my running theory was that I'd be sent back after the game's storyline concluded. But if I was in the past (far in the past, judging from Chrom's current age), then I was going to be stuck here for a long, long time.
"Hey," Chelsea patted me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my spiraling funk. She was concerned. "Are you okay? You did that thing again. You know, when you look like you're worrying over a thousand things at once."
I tried to give her a smile; it came out as a pained grimace. "Sorry, sorry. I've … just got a lot on my mind."
"Want to share? It might help." Chelsea offered softly.
I shook my head. "It's … not something I think I can tell anyone." Blazing cockroaches, I barely believed the crap that was happening to me. Chelsea was kind, and pretty open minded, but the last thing I needed was for my single friend in this ridiculous world to believe I was truly crazy.
Chelsea pouted, but thankfully didn't push. She knew I needed space, and she gave it. When the wars that would inevitably tear this continent apart started, leading to the death of thousands, I swore I'd do my damndest to ensure she and her father lived through it.
~
It's been 14 days. Two whole weeks since I was ditched here.
Because I was stuck for the foreseeable future, I tried to level up; become stronger so I could protect Chelsea and her dad when crap hit the fan.
I didn't have much luck.
Judging from how similar my SYSTEM was to the Fire Emblem game mechanics, the only way for me to gain the necessary experience to level up was by defeating/killing people, and like hell I was going to start a random murder spree in the middle of Chelsea's hometown. I tried increasing my stats through mundane means (working out, studying, etc.), but after the first few times those gains petered off. The SYSTEM was forcing me to branch out and uncover new ways to buff myself, meaning I couldn't do the same exercise over and over again to gain unlimited power.
It was bullshit! Grinding was a staple of the GAMER system!
Oh wait, my own SYSTEM was a goddamned troll that relished in my suffering.
Yes, I'm feeling stressed out, and agonizing over things I couldn't change wasn't helping my mental wellbeing.
So with a groan of resignation, I flopped against the small knoll overlooking the village, which I learned was named Suncrest. While I was slowly coming to appreciate the tiny town, its isolated location and limited culture meant there were very few opportunities for me to increase my attributes.
Once more, I tried brainstorming over what my first Personal Skill would be. Yeah, that's right: I still haven't chosen a skill. I only got one shot at this, so pardon me for taking my time! After a lot of experimentation, I learned the truly overpowered options were out. Stuff like [Kryptonian] (would've basically made me Superman) and [Hellwalker] (Doom Slayer, baby!) were unfortunately "beyond the SYSTEM's current capabilities." Seeing that same message over and over again made me want to tear my hair out in frustration.
Since I couldn't attain unlimited power, I shifted my focus to survivability. Here, the SYSTEM was more accommodating. While I couldn't flat out ask for [Immortality], I could get the next best things. Currently on my list of contenders was [God Hand] (Heracles' Noble Phantasm from Fate/Stay, granting 12 spare lives), [Horcrux] (Voldemort, but to be honest I really wasn't keen on this option), and [High Speed Regeneration] (Arrancar from Bleach) to name a few. I could even ask for Re:Zero's [Return By Death], but was super reluctant to go anywhere near that ability. I was afraid I'd also inherit Subaru's tragically bad luck and be forced to restart the same day over and over and over and over again while Fate took a Taco-Bell-binge crap all over me.
The mere thought gave me a bad case of the shudders.
"Uh oh, you've got that face again."
Craning my head, I saw Chelsea had snuck up on me while I was unaware.
"Figures you'd know. You spend more than half your time staring at this mug," I said lightly.
"Me and every other eligible lass in town," Chelsea scoffed as she sat beside me. "You sure you're not some runaway noble who came to this forgotten corner of Ylisse to start your own harem, Handsome?"
"I'm sure, and I keep telling you my name is—"
"Handsome, because that's what you are."
I scoffed. Sure, Link was handsome, but I was only borrowing his face.
"So what's up? Does Johan need my help again?" I asked. I was a half-decent apothecary now, if I do say so myself.
"Nope. Just wondering when you'll be leaving."
That brought me up short. "Uh … leaving? What makes you say that?"
"You've got a new look on your face, one I recognize: wanderlust. You're leaving, very soon I'd bet."
"That's … um … I'm not?"
"You are," Chelsea said, drawing slow circles in the grass with her finger. "You're not the first, you know. It happens. Every now and then, a neighbor's son wants to know what lies beyond our village's borders … to see the world beyond. They wear the same face you have on now."
"You sound like a bit of an expert on this."
"Naturally. It's a face I see every time I see my reflection."
I sat up. "Are you leaving?"
Chelsea smiled sadly. "I wish I could. Dear Naga, I wish I could. But you know I can't."
I nodded slowly. "Your father."
Her father, Johan, was paralyzed from the waist down by an injury he incurred after being ambushed by brigands. His wife later left him, and his eldest son moved away to an adjacent village. Chelsea was the only family he had left to care for him.
"Why do you want to leave?" I asked. She never stopped going on about how much she loved her home.
Chelsea hugged her knees to her chest. "Ever since father taught me how to read, I've felt so … so restless. I've read about Ylisstol and its sprawling markets, filled with every flavor of food from across the world! About the arenas and tournaments of Regna Ferox, clashes between champions battling for glory and honor! About the ginormous skull of the deceased Fell Dragon sitting somewhere in the Plegian deserts, and … and so much more. But I've never seen then. There's just … just a huge difference between reading about something and experience it for myself!"
"I know what you mean," I chuckled, thinking of my own circumstance.
"And there's an entirely different continent, Valm, to the west of us! Right across the sea! Imagine the differences! The possibilities! Can I really say I've truly lived if I spend my whole life cooped up here?"
I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Hearing you say it makes the world sound magical."
"Because it is! This is our world, the world we were born in! Why shouldn't we enjoy all it has to offer?" Chelsea cheered.
I always found her boundless optimism infectious. Yet even so, she was mistaken about one thing: this wasn't my world. I didn't know who brought me here, or for what purpose. I was just … just … I didn't know. I still needed time to sort through the mess in my head.
But Fate waited for no one.
We heard it at the same time: a distant scream. We spun towards her home, and saw a group of rugged outsiders storming the streets, setting fire to the houses with torches, grabbing whatever they deemed valuable (be it gold, food, or women), and … and cutting down anyone who dared to display a modicum of resistance.
It was a bandit attack. Chelsea's home was being raided by bandits.
I nearly collapsed from the dread clenching my gut. If I wasn't watching people I'd come to know and appreciate die in droves before my very eyes, I might've laughed at the sheer cliché this world threw in my face.
"Father!" Chelsea cried. Unlike me, she wasn't paralyzed in terror; she was desperately sprinting towards the village in fear for her family.
I couldn't.
I was scared. Terrified. From my vantage point, I watched as a brute brained Norris, the village's butcher, with his own meat cleaver, watering the ground with blood and gray matter. If I went down there, I could die …
… die …
… die …
… Die.
God, I was horrified. I couldn't breathe no matter how many deep breaths I took; couldn't stop shaking no matter how hard I tried. Whatever paltry bravado and courage I'd scrounged up over these past two weeks was being squeezed out by a cold vice of dread.
Considering whose body I was occupying, it made me feel all the more pathetic.
But Chelsea was down there. My friend and her father.
"… god damn it"—I felt my left foot step forward—"God damn it!"—it was followed by my right—"GOD DAMN IT!!!" I screamed as I charged headlong into the burning town, my heart hammering as the air was soon overcome with the sickening reek of ash and blood.
I ran past burning homes, across roads now littered with the corpses of townsfolk I knew by name. Ewan, son of Reginald; Amy, daughter of Isabella; Dario, second son of Aubrie. So many lives, so many names, all nothing more than glassy-eyed corpses.
Then I ran into trouble. Rory and Ava, children of the town's butcher Norris, were encircled by a group of murderers, all dressed in shabby animal skins and waving rusty iron weapons while they taunted and mocked the teenagers with death and rape. Rory was trying his best to shield his younger sister, waving one of their father's butcher knives at the encroaching bandits, but I could see the gripping terror in both their eyes.
I didn't stop to think about what a bad idea this was. Instead, I sprinted straight towards the cruel bastards, leapt through the air, and connected the heel of my boot against the nearest bandit's skull with a solid wham!
It was one hell of a dynamic entry.
The asshole I'd kicked collapsed into an unconscious heap. Then, all the eyes in the immediate area locked onto me. The bandits were wary, while the siblings were hopeful.
After a second of stupor, one of the unshaved vagrants lunged at me with his iron axe, determined to introduce its chipped edge to my head.
I froze up like a rank amateur, not unlike a deer in headlights. Yet when the axe was a few inches away from braining me, the damnedest thing happened.
Time slowed down.
I kid you not, the iron axe trying to kiss my face was now approaching in slow motion. How? Why? Was this what people meant when they say they saw their lives flash before their eyes right before death? Couldn't be, I wasn't seeing any flashbacks.
But while time felt like it was chugging through molasses, it hadn't stopped. Even now, as I wasted what precious few seconds I had left in this life internally monologuing, the rust-covered weapon drew nearer and nearer, and like an idiot I didn't have the slightest clue what I was supposed to do next.
Yet my body did. My right hand moved entirely on its own, curling into a fist and slamming into the flat side of the axe, knocking the weapon right out of the bandit's crappy grip.
Time resumed its normal flow, and the disarmed axe lodged itself in the side of a nearby house. The asshole who tried to ventilate my skull gawked at me, as did his smelly compatriots, like they couldn't believe what they'd witnessed.
I didn't blame them; neither did I.
But my body didn't stop there. My left foot lashed out, ramming itself into the bandit's stomach with all 9 points of my strength. The instant he doubled over, eyes nearly popping from his skull, my right knee shot up and connected with his ugly mug, shattering his nose with a horrifying crack and making it erupt in a fountain of blood.
I then finished him off with a professionally executed back kick, the heel of my boot absolutely flattening the sorry bastard's face and turning it into a piece of modern art.
Holy shit … HOLY SHIT! My mind was racing at what happened. I didn't do that! I didn't do any of that! My body pulled off that kung-fu crap all on its own!
Then I remembered: this wasn't my body. This body belonged to Link, the Hero of Time, or the Hero of Twilight, or … or whatever iteration! While the mind occupying it belonged to me, a mere high school Senior, the body was that of a master adventurer, monster slayer, and all around badass hero. Ergo, it still retained Link's muscle memory.
A faint spark of hope danced in my chest.
"Kill him!" the ugliest bandit, with an X-shaped scar decorating his filthy mug, howled. His fellow peons snapped out of their stupor and scrambled at me while raging like the deranged lunatics they were, completely ignoring Rory and Ava.
I shouted at the two of them to hightail it out of here, barely hearing my own voice over my thundering heartbeat. Three of the brigands were racing towards me head-on, while Bandit-X hung back.
Link, please don't let me die!
He didn't.
My foot kicked up a clump of loose soil, tossing the cluster of dirt right into the closest asshole's face. Once blinded, I side-stepped the sloppy swing of his sword with ludicrous ease, then nearly took off his head with a powerful haymaker to his kisser. It was an instant KO, with the bandit's iron sword slipping from his unconscious fingers and flipping into the air.
My left hand snatched it up in an instant, using it to block an overhead strike from Bandit-2. Bandit-3 tried to separate my torso from my waist with his axe, but I stopped that by grabbing the axe's wooden handle with my right hand.
Having stalled their attempts to kill me, I stepped forward and slammed my forehead into Bandit-2's face. My head was surprisingly thick, as I knocked out several of the dirtbag's rotting front teeth. With Bandit-2 pushed back, my iron sword was free to slash down in a wide arc on Bandit-3's weapon arm, splitting open his wrist. He squealed like a gutted pig, releasing his weapon and leaving me free to ram the butt of the iron axe against his head.
Bandit-2 tried to shake the stars from his vision, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. My low kick connected with his right knee, shattering his kneecap into pieces and snapping his leg in the wrong frigging direction. As Bandit-2 went white from shock and pain, I granted him mercy and knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to his face.
Three down, one to go.
Breathing heavily, I faced down Bandit-X with a sword in my left hand and an axe in my right. The scarred bastard's inflated bluster fled in the face of a combatant.
His hesitation was my opportunity, and Link's body hurled our iron axe at Bandit-X with expert precision. Bandit-X clumsily knocked the thrown weapon away with his own, but in doing so left himself wide open. I'd already started sprinting the instant my axe left my fingertips, closing the distance and resting my sword at the lowlife's shuddering throat. With a twist of my wrist I could sever his carotid artery.
I could kill him … couldn't I?
The implication hit me like a runaway truck, causing my own feeble mind to retake control of Link's body and make it tremble from head to toe. Could I actually kill someone? Even if I was within the world of a game, the person in front of me was, without a doubt, a living and breathing human being. I didn't kill the other bandits; mutilated and possibly crippled for life, but they were still alive.
Then Bandit-X went for the low blow: begging for his life.
"P-P-Please don't kill me, oh merciful sir!" the blubbering bastard sniveled, fat tears spilling forth to soak his grime-stained face. "I-I 'ave a fa-family ta feed!"
Fuck … fuck! I could feel my expression contort into a pained grimace. Whatever flimsy resolve I'd been trying to muster was now thoroughly dashed. I knew this bastard didn't deserve whatever misguided mercy he was trying to elicit from me, yet I couldn't help myself; I'd never killed anyone before. I didn't want to start now.
I should've taken [Gamer's Mind].
[Ding!]
[You have chosen to receive—!]
Shut the hell up!
I lowered my blade from Bandit-X's neck, glaring with whatever hostility I could scrounge up as I choked, "You … just … just get out of here. I never want to see your face again."
"Y-Yes! O-O-Of course, milord!" Bandit-X bawled joyfully.
"I said get lost!"
"Ri-Right away!" Bandit-X cried as he scrambled to get out of my sight, leaving behind his fellow village raiders without a second thought. Should've expected there was no honor amongst wandering murderers.
Focus, damn it! Bandit-X and the other bottom feeders weren't my priority at the moment. I still had to find Chelsea and her father!
Thankfully, my head was no longer clogged with blind panic, allowing me to reorient myself. Instead of running around like a headless chicken, I got my bearings and headed straight for Chelsea's home.
I ran past more and more dead bodies, those of innocent townsfolk, along the way. Each sight made me sicker and sicker in my already queasy stomach.
Then I heard someone's gruff voice cry, "Die, you little whor—!" before they were cut off by the twang of a bowstring.
Racing around the next bend of the dirt road, I was amazed by what I found. Dozens of corpses littered the ground around Johan's apothecary, but none of them were townsfolk. They were all bandits, each felled by an arrow lodged in their eye sockets. Standing amongst them was Chelsea, armed with a simple iron bow and a quiver with only a few arrows left.
She'd nailed another bandit right between the eyes, felling her 16th kill.
And she did so with the determination of a Goddess of War, showing no fear or reluctance; only grim acceptance.
Hearing me approach, Chelsea whipped out, notched, and aimed a fresh arrow at me in a single smooth motion; movements born from countless hours of practice. It was a skill I never knew she had.
Her glare broke when she saw it was me, letting a weak smile take its place.
"You're here," Chelsea croaked.
Hearing her, I knew something was wrong. There was something … broken about her voice, like she'd lost a fundamental part of herself. That's when I stared past her, and saw the copious bloodstains splattered across the threshold of her father's store, her home.
I swallowed. "Chelsea … your … your father …?"
Chelsea merely shook her head, eyes blurring with unshed tears. Damn it, could I have helped her save her father if I'd come straight here instead of dicking around? I didn't know, I'd likely never know. All I could do was focus on who was still alive, and berate myself once we were someplace safe.
"Chelsea, we need to—"
"—I know," Chelsea cut me off, swiftly stamping down her moment of weakness. "There's … there's too many of them for just the two of us. We need … we need to flee. I'll grab whatever I can from my … and then we should"—Chelsea's eyes suddenly went wide, and she aimed her bow at me and fired.
Link's incredible dynamic vision saw the arrow fly past my head—missing by an inch—before burying itself in a bandit's throat; bastard tried to sneak up on me.
And he wasn't alone. There was a group of them, maybe eight or nine, and seeing the two of us standing amongst the bodies of their dead hobos friends whipped them into a rage.
"Gut them!" one of the lowlives shrieked.
Chelsea put her game face on and sniped them down, unable to miss at this range. I shoved the unease of seeing humans die into the deepest recess of my mind and met their collective charge head on. With Chelsea acting as my support and Link's martial skill at my disposal, breaking their ranks was child's play. I knocked them out by bashing their heads in with the flat side of my sword or debilitating them by breaking their joints with well-aimed kicks.
We demolished them in a handful of seconds, as these roaming thieves and killers were unable to mount any sort of resistance against our combined efforts.
As Chelsea shot her last arrow into a bandit's screaming mouth, I took my final opponent down with a harsh kick to their groin, followed by a right hook to their squealing face.
I was panting heavily now; the adrenaline of this messed up nightmare sucking away my stamina.
"We …" I gasped for air, desperately wishing to be anywhere but here "… we should leave, before anymore—"
Small hands suddenly shoved into my back, throwing me off balance. At the same time, Link's crazy Bullet Time senses kicked in, diluting the flow of time and allowing me to twist around as I fell to see exactly who'd pushed me.
It was Chelsea. But why?
In that moment, our eyes met, her brown connecting with my blue. As if her own sense of time was slowing, Chelsea gave me a true, earnest smile, like she was happy she'd done something in time …
… right before a sword burst from her chest.
My heart stopped beating.
My mind ceased thinking.
I … I …!
I stared dumbly as Chelsea's attacker ripped their blade out of her back, showering me in a burst of her warm blood before her still body collapsed atop of me.
I couldn't … this wasn't … how could this …?
"That's what the fuckin' bitch deserves. Who does she think she is, killin' so many of our boys?"
I dumbly looked up, while my arms unconsciously wrapped themselves around Chelsea, some vain attempt to deny reality in the hopes that my friend still lived. Yet I couldn't feel the slightest pulse in her rapidly cooling body.
And her attacker—her killer—was none other than the slimy bandit with the X-shaped scar in middle of his sneering mug.
The very same person I'd spared moments before.
The revelation broke something in me, obliterating it into so many irreparable pieces that I couldn't even recognize what I'd lost.
Chelsea's killer wasn't alone. He was among his fellow murderers, more than three dozen of them in total, all their weapons wet with the blood of Suncrest's people.
"That 'im?" one of them gurgled, gesturing at me with their axe.
"One an' only," Chelsea's killer sneered triumphantly. "Feed 'em some sob story 'bout me havin' brats, and he let me live! Bought it like a bleedin' fool!"
"Hey, ya never know!" another laughed. "We've hit plenty of small towns by now, and ya've enjoyed more than a few whores, reluctant as they were! One of 'em might be carryin' yer kid!"
"Ha! They just might! Guess we'll have to pay them another visit in the near future! Ain't that right, boys?"
His disgusting rambling was met with sick cheers from his fellow filth.
This …? This was the thing I spared? This monster, responsible for my friend's death?
Chelsea … Chelsea!
No, no, NO, NO, NO!
She couldn't be dead! She couldn't! She was my friend, my only friend in this messed up world! And she … she … I refused! I refused to accept this!
"SYSTEM!" I screamed, my frantic cry burning on pure desperation. "Give me a skill that'll save her! Give me a skill that'll bring Chelsea back to life!"
"Oi, look at that! I think the fancy lad's lost it!" Chelsea's killer laughed, eliciting a gargle of amusement from the other bandits.
I didn't care! Fuck what they thought! As I looked down at Chelsea's unmoving face, her lips forever stilled into her calming smile, there was only one thing I truly cared about.
Please, SYSTEM! Please do this for me!
[Ding!]
[The resurrection of another is beyond the SYSTEM's capabilities. Please choose again!]
The hole in my chest, my soul, torn open by Chelsea's unjust death, became as jagged as broken glass with every word I read.
"Fuck that! Fuck YOU!" I howled, holding Chelsea all the tighter. "You can grant skills that give ME multiple lives! Bringing Chelsea back should be fucking easy!"
[Ding!]
[The resurrection of another is beyond the SYSTEM's capabilities. Please choose again!]
"NO! DON'T YOU FUCKING GIVE ME THAT! SAVE HER, DAMN YOU!"
[Ding!]
[The resurrection of another is beyond—!]
I screamed.
I howled.
I cried.
The serrated edges of the hole in my heart grew all the more prominent. My friend was dead, killed by the very bastard I'd spared, making her death entirely my fault.
She died because I was weak.
"I think we've all seen enough," Chelsea's killer spat, the clump of phlegm landing on my face. I barely noticed. "Listen up, lad. I'm gonna kill ya now, and I'm gonna take my time. Ya humiliated me, and as far as I'm concerned tha's the same as spittin' on Naga's name. Then I'm gonna cut that bitch's body up and hang tha' parts fer all ta see. It's what she deserves fer messin' with my lads."
I stilled.
From the deepest depths of my heart, something stirred, incited by those loathsome words. It bubbled and surged before erupting to flash flood coursing through every vein, every corner of my body, with the excruciating heat of a hundred suns.
It was … it was …
… pure …
… unadulterated …
… HATE!!!
I screamed like a demon possessed, tackling Chelsea's killer and pinning him to the ground. Before the fucking mongrel could muster up a defense, I raised the sword in my white-knuckled grip high above my head, it's tip hungrily pointed straight down at his face.
Chelsea's killer paled as he squealed, "WAI—!"
I plunged my sword into his garbage-spewing air-sucker, using so much strength the iron weapon burst out the other side of the trash's head and lodged itself into the dirt.
But it wasn't enough.
It wasn't fucking enough!
I tried to rip the sword back out, but the flimsy iron metal was stuck so deep in the ground it broke as I twisted the handle free.
I didn't care.
Spurred by all my overwhelming hatred, I bashed the hilt of my bladeless weapon into the piece of shit's gurgling face, shoving it into his terrified eyes; and I didn't stop. I pulverized his obnoxious face in over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and OVER, and OVER, and OVER, and OVER, and OVER, and OVER, and OVER again until there was nothing left but mashed up pieces of flesh, chips of broken bone, and unrecognizable clumps of brain matter.
[Ding!]
[Enemy slain! +10 to EXP!]
He was dead; Chelsea's killer was dead. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. I remembered reading somewhere on the internet that all human lives were of equal value. Fucking bullshit. Chelsea's life was easily worth a hundred, a thousand, a million times more than this shitstain's splayed out beneath me.
So if I had to kill a million bandits to recoup this unfair loss, so be it.
I staggered to my feet, glaring at the remaining bandits—these absolute wastes of air and life—with hatred potent enough to kill gods. I saw their fear, their horror at what they'd witnessed. Trepidation that made their limbs lock up, while dread forced them to regret every life choice that brought them to this very moment.
I slowly counted them one by one: 37 in total, and not nearly enough to balance the scales …
… but it was a start.
I glanced down at bladeless hilt in my blood soaked hand, then tossed it aside; the cowards flinched at every motion I made. Could I slaughter them all with my bare hands? No doubt, but using a weapon was more efficient.
"SYSTEM, give me a weapon," I commanded.
[Please specify a weapon of your choice!]
"I don't care," I snarled, taking a single step towards the soon-to-be-cadavers. The lot of them took several panicked shuffles back. "I just want a weapon! Any weapon! EVERY weapon! JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING TO MASSACRE THESE FUCKING DOGS WITH!!!"
[Ding!]
[Understood! Searching archives for relevant skills! Compiling! Search complete! 103 options available with the SYSTEM's current capabilities! Option #1: <Projection, Trace Version!> Confirm SKILL?]
I didn't care.
"Confirm."
[Confirmed! Personal Skill 1: Projection, Trace Version! Please make the most of your selection!]
Both my hands became alit by circuit-like lines that ran up and down my arms, radiating an emerald light so intense they could clearly be seen underneath my sleeves.
The magic then coalesced in my palms, shaping the energy into the designs I desired. With a flash of light the arcane energy solidified, transforming into a pair of iron swords in my hands.
"I'm going to kill you all," I snarled at the gobsmacked bandits, gripping my Traced swords with such fervor the handles groaned in protest. "You hear me? I'M GOING TO FUCKING SLAUGHTER EVERY! LAST!! ONE OF YOU!!!"
~Current Stats~
NAME: ???
AGE: 16
CLASS: ???
LEVEL: 1
EXP: 10/100
HIT POINTS: 24 / 24
STRENGTH: 9
MAGIC: 2 (+1)
SKILL: 9 (+1)
SPEED: 8
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 7
RESISTANCE: 8
~Current Skills~
PERSONAL SKILL 1: Projection, Trace Version (NEW!)
PERSONAL SKILL 2: N/A
PERSONAL SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 1: N/A
SKILL 2: N/A
SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 4: N/A
SKILL 5: N/A
