Chapter One: Jason's "Choices"

  System Initializing...

  With a deep breath, Jason closed his eyes and felt the tingling sensation as his mind connected to the world of Terra Mythica. A flood of black pixels engulfed him, but through it, he could see a stream of text moving across his vision. He raised his hands, and they materialized in front of him, flickering with old, low-resolution pixels. As he waved them around, he couldn’t help but smile at the nostalgia. This must have been an intentional effect they put in.

  Analyzing DNA...

  His anxiety spiked.

  Doing what now? Shit. What if the system can tell that I’m not him? Will it call the cops? What if I get thrown out before I even start?

  The pixels shimmered and twined, conjuring a mirror out of nothing. As he approached, his reflection began to form, but the face staring back wasn’t his own. It was Alex, his twin brother. Though others struggled to tell them apart, he perceived the subtle differences as vividly as a painter sees hues in a sunrise. The familiar features gazed back at him, a sharp pang of regret twisting in his chest.

  Synching... Attempt 1..2..3..4..5..6…

  He could feel his heart hammering in his throat. His digital heart? Each second an eternity.

  He reached out, fingertips grazing the cold, reflective surface of the mirror. There was a moment of resistance before his fingers slipped through, not entirely solid. The mirror image flickered, wavering like a candle flame. When it smoothed, the face look back was replaced with his own, his stormy grey eyes gazing back at him.

  Jason’s breath trembled, misting the pixelated air with each exhale. Barely nineteen, his body was lean from missed meals but honed by constant motion. His dark hair fell in untamed strands around his eyes.

  Synching...Attempt 20..21…

  Deep breaths. Come on, come on, come on.

  Compatibility error...

  His muscles froze and he couldn’t breathe. That can’t be good. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  Deviance at .37%...

  What does that even mean? His mind raced through possibilities.

  Can the system detect my real identity? If I log out now, would it know it was me? Do these things even have GPS tracking?

  Fatal Error...

  Jason’s stomach dropped. This was it. He was caught.

  Diagnosing… error…. Error…

  A stream of unintelligible symbols flash rapidly across his view field, too fast for him to read.

  Error…

  “Shit. Exit. Close. Logout! No, no, no.”

  He tried to reach up and remove the device manually from his head, but his hands grasped at nothing. His physical body wouldn’t respond. Desperately, he moved his virtual hands instead.

  Suddenly, the world went completely black. No screen. No text. And worst of all, no logout option.

  Jason yelped as the next words appeared.

  System override successful… User accepted.

  Jason gasped for air, his chest heaving as he released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. A wave of relief crashed over him, but it was quickly swallowed by a nagging sense of apprehension. The system had begrudgingly accepted him, but what did that mean? “System Override? How? Who?” He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.

  Welcome Traveler

  The screen repeated, this time with a gentle chime.

  Memories of the events that had led him to this moment flooded his mind, causing a pang of grief to crash over him. He fought to suppress it, knowing that he couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him. There were feelings he would have to confront eventually, but not now. Not yet. Right now, he had to push through and pull this off.

  The text vanished as a blinding light engulfed him, pulling him away from the sterile digital world of the initialization phase. His senses were overwhelmed all at once. The light was so intense he had to squeeze his eyes shut, his head spinning with the sudden shift.

  Opening his eyes, Jason found himself standing in the dimly lit room, the air thick with an ancient, musty scent. A single pedestal stood in the center, bathed in an eerie glow, with a book resting upon it. Each step echoed in the silence.

  His fingers brushed the cover of the book, sending a ripple of energy through his body. He opened it, and as he did, shimmering lines of magical script began to etch themselves across the page. The next notifications weren’t bold, like the last.

  Traveler’s Handbook

  A dazzling show of lights erupted from the book, wrapping around Jason in a luminous cocoon before fading and leaving a warm, comforting weight in his hands.

  “What the…?” He yelped.

  Please be patient while your Handbook calibrates to your soul.

  Don’t Panic

  In filigree script the words formed in light upon the page, and then quickly vanished.

  Soulbound

  A running record of your existence. All that you have learned, all that you know, and all that you are.

  Jason flipped through the pages, marveling at the sections labeled for maps, quests, status effects, attributes, and a page that displayed a figure resembling himself, down to the last detail of what he was wearing. Most of the pages were blank, however, waiting to be filled with the story of his journey.

  Another burst of light enveloped him, binding the book to his very soul. He experimented, willing the book to disappear, and it did, vanishing from his hands only to reappear in his mind. He could call forth parts of it without opening the physical book, like a blank map that flashed into his consciousness.

  A system notification chimed, acknowledging his understanding of the book.

  You have successfully attuned to the Traveler’s Handbook.

  You have learned more about yourself.

  Gain +1 to Spirit Constitution.

  As the notification faded, the room around Jason transformed. The walls peeled back, revealing a vast, otherworldly hallway that stretched beyond sight. Before him stood an endless row of ornate doors, each one unique, adorned with intricate engravings.

  Jason faced the row of doors, each more elaborate than the last—gateways to the realms of Terra Mythica, where the only certainty was uncertainty. These weren’t leading to honeymoon suites; they were portals to lands beyond imagination, where the odds of finding a mint on the pillow were slim to none.

  He hesitated, his gaze drifting over the intricate carvings and glowing inscriptions. The doors demanded attention, every detail screaming, “Look at me! I’m the portal to untold wonders and probably a few unspeakable horrors.” He wasn’t just admiring craftsmanship; he was staring down the handiwork of gods.

  A soft glow pulsed from the doors, warming the cool air around him as if they sensed his presence—or maybe they were just impatient for his decision. Each light was a whisper, a dare, but those whispers were trapped behind locks—big, ugly things that clearly stated, “Not today, buddy.” These were the boundaries of Terra Mythica, and they weren’t letting just anyone in.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  But Jason wasn’t just anyone. One door would open. In his pocket, he held an invitation—golden, shimmering, and addressed to... well, not him, technically. The weight of it pressed against him, a constant reminder that he was trespassing in a destiny meant for someone else.

  First in the array of doors was Asgard, with a door forged from shimmering metal, engraved with scenes of mythical creatures and majestic halls.

  Then came Avalon, with a door of polished wood and emerald inlays, with carvings of knights, fair maidens, and ancient trees, exuding an aura of timeless magic and serene tranquility.

  And the Celestial Court, with a door of jade and gold, carved with dragons and phoenixes, surrounded by a halo of divine energy.

  They continued as far as Jason could see, each sealed tight. All except one.

  Finally he had found it, the door to Mount Olympus. It was a grand door of white marble and shimmering gold, adorned with scenes of gods and goddesses in majestic poses, surrounded by celestial clouds and lightning bolts, standing upon the vastness of a mountain so grand it touched the heavens. The effect was mesmerizing, and he found his eyes drawn to the door with an inexorable pull that none of the others had. And just as he had hoped, and feared, the door to Mount Olympus stood unbarred, a glow emanating from it, brighter than the others, inviting him forward.

  You have been accepted on scholarship into the tutorial of Mount Olympus University.

  This is a four-year tutorial.

  After completion, other realms will unlock.

  Please provide your access codes.

  Access codes? Jason’s mind raced back to the acceptance letter he had received, recalling the strange mental phrase inscribed on it. He remembered memorizing its strangeness and without further hesitation, he spoke the phrase.

  “Ducks shake hands when no one is listening to Shakespeare,” he said softly.

  Nothing happened. He recalled that he needed to envision it, not just say it. It was a mental phrase after all. He pictured a duck shaking hands with another duck, Shakespeare in the background being totally ignored. There was a loud click! The door to Mount Olympus glowed brightly, opening before him. He stepped through, the light engulfing him in a brilliant flash.

  On the other side, Jason was greeted by a shimmering interface displaying a list of character options, each one pulsating softly. As he examined them, he noticed something uncanny: each race had his face, but with different levels of muscle and form.

  First was the Centaur, his own face atop a powerful, equine body, muscles rippling under a glossy coat. Then came the sturdy Satyr, with his face on a more compact, muscular form, legs ending in hooves. The imposing Cyclops appeared next, his own features with a single, intense eye and a body built like a tank. Other mythic options followed, all variations of himself.

  Jason tried to select the Centaur, but nothing happened. Confused, he moved on to the Elf, a lithe version of himself with pointed ears, then the Dragonborn, a more muscular and scaled rendition, but each attempt was met with a frustrating buzzer sound.

  “Why can’t I pick a race?” he muttered.

  A prompt appeared as a cold, mechanical voice echoed through the void, sending a chill down Jason’s spine.

  Initiating Player Assessment to determine race and starting attributes.

  Please stand by.

  The chamber around him shimmered and morphed, the sterile walls dissolving into towering shelves of ancient tomes. Each book was bound in cracked leather and adorned with gold leaf, relics of eras long past. The scent of aged parchment and dust filled the air, a testament to the room’s long-forgotten wisdom. At its center stood a grand, oaken table, bearing a curious wooden device. It was intricate, constructed of dark wood with a hundred blocks, each etched with a unique symbol.

  A large wooden board stood beside the table, its surface smooth and polished. Six empty slots, in the shape of the wooden blocks, sat below it.

  As he approached, an elegant script materialized, shimmering with a magical glow.

  “I am not alive, but I grow; I don’t have lungs, but I need air; I don’t have a mouth, but I can drown. What am I?”

  Jason frowned, his fingers tapping on the table in a rhythm that matched his racing thoughts. How do I answer? The walls of the chamber pulsed, subtly at first, then with increasing insistence. The shelves of ancient tomes pressed inward, the wall moving closer and closer.

  “How do I answer?” he asked aloud, his voice trembling.

  His eyes darted over the blocks. He found one depicting flames and smoke.

  “There! It’s fire.”

  He placed the block into the first slot, and a soft click resonated through the chamber. The walls paused momentarily, then resumed their ominous advance.

  The board shimmered again, presenting a new challenge:

  “I am taken from the earth, placed in a wooden case where I am never truly free. I am used every day, and with each use, a part of me dies, yet I serve until nothing remains. What am I?”

  His mind raced. What could it be? The walls inched closer, the air growing thin. “Lead!” he exclaimed, choosing a block with the shape of a pencil etched in.

  Another soft click. The board shimmered once more.

  “I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest man cannot hold me for long. What am I?”

  Jason’s patience wavered. Frustration grew.

  What is this trial? What is the point of this?

  He felt suffocated as the walls came ever closer.

  Memories of his foster parents came unbeckoned - the warmth of their kitchen, the comforting aroma of freshly baked treats. Baking had always been his solace, a ritual demanding precision and patience. He recalled their gentle guidance, anchoring him in the present, curbing his tendency to either shut down or explode. Alex had been the calm one, the steady force in the storm. But Jason, he was always the storm itself.

  Jason remembered a time when they let him help. He couldn’t have been older than seven and he’d accidentally poured salt instead of sugar into the banana bread. Food was scarce since the War. He was on the verge of crying, shouting, or throwing the pan in frustration.

  “If you ever feel lost and overwhelmed,” they had told him, “or have an urge to run or react, just stop for a moment. Take a deep breath and make a cup of tea. Then, tackle the problem one piece at a time.”

  Remarkably, they ate that cake, salty as it was. It tasted terrible, but in that moment they carved out a slice of happiness together. A tear traced its way down his face. He hadn’t thought of that moment in years.

  He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He didn’t have any ingredients for tea, so the breath would have to do.

  And then he saw it - a picture of someone breathing on one of the blocks. The answer to the riddle.

  “Breath!” He took the corresponding block and placed it in the third slot with a click.

  “I can do this. Alex would tell me not to give up.”

  With renewed determination, he scanned the blocks. The board shimmered again:

  “What has keys but can’t open locks, space but no room, and you can enter but not go outside?”

  He hesitated, the walls now brushing his shoulders. Then, clarity struck. Easy.

  “A keyboard.” He slotted the block into the fourth slot.

  He channeled the same patience and care he used in baking into solving the puzzle.

  The next riddle appeared:

  “I can fly without wings. I can cry without eyes. Wherever I go, darkness resides. What am I?”

  Jason’s heart pounded. Shadows twisted around him. Sweat dripped from his brow.

  “A cloud!” He realized. As he placed the block, the device glowed, the symbols aligning perfectly.

  No new riddle arrived.

  He watched, breath held, but the walls continued their relentless advance. Anger surged through him—there were six slots, but only five riddles. He clenched his fists as the walls pressed closer. Desperation clawed at his mind, urging him to panic, but he forced himself to stay calm. He scanned the remaining blocks and his eyes fell on a blank one.

  It didn’t make sense. Only five riddles had been provided. The walls were nearly upon him now, squeezing the air from the room. With a mixture of frustration and determination, he grabbed the blank piece and placed it in the last slot.

  The walls halted their advance, and the sound of grinding stone filled the room as a door at the far end creaked open. The door beckoned him to the next trial.

  Wisdom, Intelligence, and Luck Calibrated

  Initiating Strength, Dexterity and Constitution Assessment

  The world around him shifted into an abyss of shadows.

  A panel in the middle of space opened slowly, a blinding light pouring out and cutting through the void. From the panel, a white rabbit emerged. It seemed innocent enough, a fluffy bundle with a twitching nose, but Jason sensed the sinister truth.

  If there was one thing that Jason knew from old movies is that that was no bunny. That was a death machine masquerading in a cloak of cuteness.

  The bunny halted, its crimson eyes boring into Jason. In a heartbeat, it became a blur of fangs and claws, hurtling toward him. He threw himself aside, the creature’s teeth snapping inches from his neck. He hit the ground with a crunch, cracking black tile beneath him.

  Scrambling to his feet, Jason’s heart hammered. The bunny turned with eerie precision, its eyes alight with malice. It sprang at him again, and he lashed out, his boot connecting and sending the bunny skidding across the floor. But it twisted in mid-air, landing gracefully, its furry fury undiminished. It dove at him again, this time tearing a chunk from his leg and knocking him to the floor.

  Blood trickled from the gash in his leg, but there was no time for pain. Jason grabbed a shard of shattered tile, clutching it like a makeshift dagger. The bunny’s claws raked his arm, leaving deep, burning wounds. He gritted his teeth, the taste of iron mingling with fear.

  He stood and they circled each other, a deadly dance of predator and prey. Jason was obviously the prey. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming. The bunny’s relentless assault was taking its toll, but surrender wasn’t an option.

  With a last, desperate surge, Jason tackled the creature, pinning it beneath him. It thrashed and snapped, but he held fast, leveraging his weight to keep it down. Raising the tile high, he drove it into the bunny’s chest. It screeched, a nightmarish sound that reverberated off the walls.

  Blood sprayed as he stabbed again and again, driven by sheer survival instinct. At last, it fell still, its death throes echoing in the silence.

  Jason slumped beside the lifeless form, his body a canvas of pain and blood. A prompt appeared.

  Congratulations!

  You have defeated the Bronze One Rank monster, Wittle White Bunny Wabbit.

  He staggered to his feet, dragging himself toward the door. But just as he reached for the handle, a chilling noise stopped him in his tracks—a low, guttural growl. He turned, dread coiling in his gut.

  The bunny’s corpse twitched, spasmed, then convulsed violently. Its fur began to rot away, revealing patches of decayed flesh and exposed bone. Eyes that had once held malevolent cunning now glowed with an eerie, unholy light. The creature reanimated, its claws sharper, its fangs longer, and a foul stench of decay filling the air.

  A Zombunny?

  Jason’s blood ran cold. The zombunny lunged at him with renewed ferocity, an undead nightmare given life. He barely dodged out of the way. The creature’s claws swiped at him, catching his side and tearing through flesh.

  Pain flared, but adrenaline surged. Jason swung with all his might, catching the zombunny across the face. It howled, a sound of pure torment and rage. But the zombunny didn’t relent.

  Jason tripped backward, his breath ragged, his body trembling. As he pulled himself to his feet, a grim determination settled in his bones. If he could conquer this horror, he was ready for anything this twisted world had in store.

  Looking up, Jason saw the creature was gone, hidden in one of the many shadows of the room. Determined to end this nightmare, he stood, eyes scanning the room for any sign of the zombunny. But the chamber was silent. There was no sign of the creature anywhere.

  A chill ran down his spine. His instincts screamed at him to move, but he couldn’t see the threat. Then, a soft, sinister rustle came from above. He looked up to find the zombunny flying towards his face, its undead form descending like a harbinger of doom. Before he could react, its claws and fangs met their mark.

  You Have Died

  You Have Respawned

  The monster had vanished and Jason was alone again, fully healed, staring at a blue screen with white writing.

  Assessment Complete

  You qualify to choose from the following races: Human.

  Attributes and race are based on performance and current assessment of mental and physical tolerances:

  Strength: 9

  Dexterity: 11

  Intelligence: 12

  Wisdom: 12

  Constitution: 8

  Charisma: 8

  Luck: 10

  Achievement Unlocked - Entirely Average

  Congratulations, you are entirely average.

  Your total attributes earned combined are 70, averaging 10 per attribute (the earth average).

  Plus 5% chance you will be overlooked while in a crowd.

  “Well, that’s stupid,” he muttered. “Not much of a choice, then.” He selected human, feeling a surge of energy and light as the system processed his “choice”.

  Character Creation Complete.

  Please stand by while you are transported to Terra Mythica.

  As Jason waited for the Terra Mythica loading sequence to finalize, he couldn’t help but marvel at how far technology had come. During the Great War, an AI virus had spread through everything connected to the internet, leading to the largest technological purge in human history. To stop the virus, humanity had destroyed everything operating on binary code—computers, flash drives, and even old DVDs, just in case the virus had infiltrated them.

  Print media, vinyl records, cassette tapes, and surviving VHS cassettes were all that remained. For fifty years, computers were banned. Technology only made a comeback with the advent of Excelsior Tech, introducing a new system impervious to malicious AI. The Internet had been replaced by the Grid, accessible only through Excelsior technology. And all the old VHSs were uploaded.

  Jason compared the sleek prompts and immersive attributes of Terra Mythica to the old movies he’d watched on VHS. He didn’t have video games, but some movies had shown technology at its pre-war height. He remembered one where two teens created a living, breathing woman using a computer. Another depicted a kid almost starting a global thermonuclear war by playing tic-tac-toe with an AI. And then there was the historic recounting of people getting zapped into game machines to fight as digital gladiators.

  He thought back to the times he and his twin brother would watch the holodiscs together. They must have seen the masterpiece Double Dragon a hundred times. Now, here he was, immersed in a virtual reality that finally caught up with the incredible technology of the 1980s and 90s.