01 – The usual introduction

>>Welcome to Universe 772518<<

>Level up!

>Choose one:

>Improve random skill (1 point)
>Improve chosen skill (2 points)
>Generate new random skill (1 point)

Martin C. Molotov woke up in the middle of the forest, dressed in garbs he did not remember putting on that morning. He tried to recall how he got there, but every query he sent to his brain found nothing. It was, he felt, probing into empty space that was not really empty, but it felt empty save for something indefinite, a sense of identity and a memory. He remembered a couple of things here and there. He remembered how his life was shit, 25 years lived to the worst because of how unjust society had been towards him.

He was not there anymore. It was like waking up from a dream, the memories mists dissipating under the heat of the rising morning sun. Soon enough they would be all gone, but there was a sense of peace about it all. A sense that it was better this way.

Suddenly he was aware of the fact that he was no longer forced to be an upstanding American citizen. Whatever being American even meant, he wasn’t sure.

His face cracked. The mask split open, and the manic laughter echoed through the forest and back to his ears. Unfocused eyes spun and spun around, wide open, seeing the trees go up and down, up and down as Martin ran, jumped, screamed. His voice trembled, throat hoarse and in pain. His muscles ached from laughing, crying, screaming of joy.

He sat, disoriented. He was spent. Now his mind was truly empty. Who was he? Where was he?

His brain felt like an empty white room, and there was a note inside. Instructions. A choice.

“Status.” He said, and he was almost surprised at the sound of his own voice.

>>Status<<

>Martin C. Molotov
>Level 1 Human.
>1 skill point available

>>Skills <<

• Master System 1

>>Skills Description<<

• Master System 1
  • Passive skill. Allows for leveling up once exp meter is full, and to choose between three level up options. Displays current HP, MP and SP in the form of persistent color-coded bars.

He nodded once, humming to himself. The choice was there, in the form of a skill point, staring at him. Improve a random skill or generate a new random one from scratch. The third option required him to have two points, which he didn’t have. And, right now, the first seemed a bit useless. The choice was easy.

The letters were dark, sleek text floating in the white landscape of his mind, that he could see whenever he thought about the system, his status, or the vague concept of whatever this thing was, regardless of whether his eyes were open or closed.

“Generate random.” He said.

>Generating—

Suddenly the text disappeared, the system glitching for a moment until new text was there. Its flavor was different, less artificial and sterile, more gothic. It felt human, in a way, ancient.

>>Choose starting skill:

There were two orbs of light, held in stasis by complex machinery of light and glass. The text seemed to come from the machine at the center, and light emanated from its translucent circuitry and entered the orbs, swirling and churning like a storm of power.

• Blueflame Ball 1
  • Azanthos looked upon the great crucible, where the vast sea of blue roared and foamed like a hungry beast, and plucked but an atom of that infinity. Master of the legendary Blueflame, he was the only one of his kind, for the crucible was never found again, and his fire was said to burn the hottest among all godly fires.
• Ghost Dash 1
  • There were three masters of the Ghost arts. Lanteus was the youngest, sent by the other elders on a suicide mission on the mountain of Altius. There, he found the answer to their age-long riddle, and the source of their power. Taking this power for himself, he returned to the elders, and killed them in cold blood.

The choice was between two vastly different powers. One was of destruction, of power and energy. The other was of deceit, disguise and the silent step of a killer in the night. Only one of them, however, called to him. And he touched the light, drawn as he was to it like a beacon.

>Generating new chosen skill…
>Skill: Blueflame Ball 1 generated!

Back he was in the white room. And his status was now changed to reflect the new skill he acquired, once again sleek black against pearly white, the epitome of digital, soulless, unadulterated power impossible for a mind of man to grasp. An interface, nothing more.

Was the machine he saw the source of this system? Was it something else, an interference?

It didn’t matter. The blueflame was now his, and he left the unpleasantness of the room to return back to reality.

He looked around again. The forest was unchanged to his eyes, save for details he could not make out nor remember that told him that time, however slowly, still flowed while he was in that room. And he too still existed in the waking world while his mind was elsewhere, he noticed, staring at the half-empty stamina bar at the top of his vision. It was a sick shade of green, with a slightly longer red one on top of it, and a tiny blue one below. If he wanted, he could summon another bar, that took up the whole bottom part of his field of view, slim and completely empty. Xp bar. These concepts made complete sense to him, despite his mind being empty of all other memories. And from those concepts, others stemmed up, appeared as if summoned or planted there by an external intelligence providing him with context and information.

He suddenly knew what to do. He set off, following the script he was given and that he intended to deviate from as soon as possible, but that would also provide him with the best opportunities if he was smart about it.

Smart. That was another thing. He was not like a newborn child, but had an intellect that was complete and rounded, mature like that of a person who had lived inside society rather than never coming into contact with it. And he was mad. Angry, and mad. For some reason.

There were many things about all this that he would call suspicious. “Sus,” he giggled, then stopped. He didn’t even know why he laughed.

He shook his head, and resumed walking. He didn’t know where the closest city was, but according to what he knew, he was bound to find one by just walking randomly in a direction. The system, he suspected the system was indeed the cause of his predicament and the unseen hand guiding his thoughts, would make sure he goes the right way.