Since the beginning of time — and until the end of time — there will always be something that never fails to follow the essence of life:
The sweet, silent, morbid touch of death.
Now let me ask you a question.
What happens after that final breath?
After the maggots have nibbled on your flesh… after your brain decays?
Why should you be special?
You aren't some all-malevolent creature.
You are evil, and you are good.
Although none of that morality matters anyway.
Is it because you have the capability to question your own mortality?
To recognize the existence of an end?
Did you really think life after death would be paradise?
Like the ones written in mortal-made gospels?
—
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
Friedrich Nietzsche
HYBRIS:
I awake in a box.
A sturdy, cold, dark box that hardly traps my skeleton.
My body's erect with both of my shoulders slightly being squeezed due to my containment.
"What the fuck is this..?"
Still hazy — from what, I don't know — I slowly start to regain my vision as my eyes adjust to this profound darkness.
I can't see anything except the water vapor escaping my lips with each breath, and the sheet of cold metal practically hugging my face. I can't look down — something's pressed against my skull, keeping my head fixed. My arms won't move either. I can't even bend my elbows.
My… my feet?
My heart drops.
I can't feel them.
No wiggle. No warmth. No ankles.
Nothing.
My breathing quickens. A hollow panic starts to fill my chest.
What the fuck is going on?
Then I feel it — a brief gust of air from near my head. Breathing holes, maybe?
"HEY!"
I shout, then freeze.
Unsure if screaming is even the right move, I fall quiet, left with no choice but to wait in my anxiety.
Luckily, I don't wait long.
*DING*
My eyes, still darting in the dark, snap toward the sudden noise. A flash of light hits me like sunlight against newborn skin.
A screen. Floating just above my face.
Not a normal screen — something holographic.
Just white light at first. But nevertheless, it's definitely a screen.
*TYPING*
A sentence begins to form.
"HELLO"
*DING*
*TYPING*
"WE WELCOME YOU TO THE AFTERLIFE."
"Huh?"
I stared in stunned confusion, my eyes locked on the screen.
"The afterlife…?"
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"WE DEEPLY REGRET HAVING TO INFORM YOU OF WHAT COMES NEXT."
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"YOU UNDOUBTEDLY HAVE QUESTIONS.
WE WILL NOT BE ANSWERING THEM.
WE HOPE THIS BRIEFING OFFERS… ENOUGH."
My breath hitches. Panic swells like a balloon in my chest.
I squirm, frantic — like a rabbit in a snare — trying to twist free from the box's crushing grip.
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"INQUIRIES SUCH AS:
'HOW DID I DIE?'
'WHO WAS I?'
'WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER?'
WILL NOT BE ADDRESSED.
WE HAVE NO RECORD OF YOUR FORMER LIFE.
AND NEITHER DO YOU."
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"YOU ARE BORN AGAIN."
I scream internally.
With my jaw hanging, mouth open. I'm nearly drooling.
It feels as if my skull is being tugged back and forth.
I can't remember anything.
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"WELCOME TO TELLUS.
YOUR NEW WORLD.
OUR RECORDS SUGGEST MOST RETAIN FRAGMENTS — PERSONALITY TRAITS, MORALITY, FLAWS.
SOME REMEMBER FACTS FROM EARTH.
IF YOU WERE INTELLIGENT, YOU MAY BE INTELLIGENT STILL.
IF YOU WERE DERANGED, THAT MADNESS MAY FOLLOW.
BUT THESE ARE GHOSTS. SHADOWS.
THE BLUEPRINT.
YOU MAY FOLLOW IT — OR YOU MAY BECOME SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY."
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO HAS DIED ON PLANET EARTH ARRIVES IN THIS PLANE AFTER DEATH.
BE IT INFANT.
BE IT ELDER.
YES, UNFORTUNATELY, THAT IS THE CASE.
RIGHT NOW, THERE ARE BOXES CONTAINING INFANTS, THE MENTALLY ILL, CHILDREN, ET CETERA — ALL IN NEW ADULT BODIES.
IF YOU CAN COMPREHEND THIS, YOU ALREADY HAVE AN ADVANTAGE.
YOU ARE NOT HOLLOW."
I unwillingly smile at this fact— although it disgusts me to the core that that's my initial reaction.
Is this really happening?
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"YOUR GODS WERE FAKE.
GODS YOU COULD NEITHER SEE NOR TOUCH.
SUCH IS THE IGNORANCE OF THE MORTAL — FILLING THEIR MINDS WITH FALSE IDEALS SINCE BIRTH.
THIS IS THE MOMENT THE CHAINS ARE SEVERED.
AN OPPORTUNITY FOR GREATNESS."
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"THE MOST NOTICEABLE CHANGE FOR MANY OF YOU MAY BE YOUR BODIES.
YOU ARE NOW OF TELLUS BLOOD.
YOU HAVE BEEN REBORN IN ONE OF TWELVE POSSIBLE RACES.
YOUR GODS MAY HAVE BEEN FALSE — BUT YOUR MONSTERS WERE NOT.
BE IT COINCIDENCE
AS OF THIS MOMENT, 53,531,982 PEOPLE HAVE BEEN REBORN INTO 'MYTHOLOGICAL' BODIES.
A RECORD-SETTING NUMBER OF FRESH SOULS IN THE HISTORY OF THE SUMMIT.
THIS YEAR, APPROXIMATELY 28% OF FRESH SOULS ARE WEREWOLVES —
ALSO A RECORD FOR HIGHEST PERCENTAGE OF A SINGLE RACE IN SUMMIT HISTORY.
YOUR RACE WILL BE DISPLAYED NOW."
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"SATYR."
Satyr… the taste of the name stains my tongue—the swelling in my chest hasn't eased. But a sense of something has emerged…excitement? Hope?
Is that why I couldn't move my feet or feel my ankles earlier? Because I have hooves now?
*DING*
*TYPING NOISES*
"NOW.
WE HAVE TERRIBLE NEWS."
"OUR PLANET IS LARGE — ESTIMATED TO BE AT LEAST FOUR TIMES THE SIZE OF EARTH.
THE VERY FIRST PEOPLE OF TELLUS WERE FRESH SOULS, JUST LIKE YOU.
SINCE THEN, WE HAVE BUILT CIVILIZATIONS.
BUT EVEN WITH A WORLD THIS MASSIVE, TAKING IN MILLIONS OF SOULS IS A BURDEN.
WE OURSELVES HAVE A GROWING POPULATION.
WE WOULD STARVE.
AND THAT'S WITHOUT THE LOGISTICAL NIGHTMARE OF ACCLIMATING MILLIONS TO THIS REALM.
THAT IS WHY WE CREATED… THE TRIAL.
A SURVIVAL TRIAL.
ONLY THOSE WHO PROVE THEMSELVES WORTHY MAY STAY.
WE APOLOGIZE…
WE BOW OUR HEADS KNOWING THAT 99.999% OF YOU WILL PERISH —AFTER HAVING JUST ESCAPED DEATH'S GRASP, AND REACHING A NEW PLANE.
IF THERE IS A HELL BEYOND THIS ONE,
MAY YOU DAMN US FOR ETERNITY."
*Ding*
*Typing Noises*
"THIS CHALLENGE WILL BRING CRIMSON.
THE CREATURES HERE ARE STARVED, YOU THEIR PREY. FIGHT, RUN, HIDE, MANIPULATE, DO ANYTHING IN YOUR POWER FOR VICTORY, AND IN YOUR VICTORY YOU MAY SEE THE GREAT ISLES OF AXXII.
YOU WILL BE ON AN ISLAND WITH MILLIONS OF HIBERNATING MONSTERS WHO HAVE BEEN WAITING SINCE THE END OF LAST YEAR'S SUMMIT.
YOU WILL PROBABLY DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH.
BEING EATEN ALIVE
PIERCED BY WEAPONS FROM YOUR FELLOW TRIAL MEMBERS.
ET CETERA.
SO WE HAVE GIVEN YOU THE KINDNESS AND GRACE OF CHOICE.
IF YOU SPEAK THE WORDS
"ALL WILL RETURN AND END IN TIME"
YOUR BOX WILL BE FILLED WITH A POISONOUS GAS THAT WILL END YOUR LIFE, PAINLESSLY.
THOSE WHO WISH TO STAY DON'T UTTER A THING.
THOSE WHO ARE HOLLOW WE APOLOGIZE.
YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO DECIDE."
I say nothing.
The minute starts passing in the blink of an eye. I hear loud bangs from around me, corpses dropping like flies I assume. Making me wonder why I couldn't hear anything outside of my box prior to this. To instill anguish?
This is really really really fucked up.
They trap us in boxes, readying us for a slaughter.
Should I…
The thought instantly pops out of my head and I get too frightened at the idea. I decide to wait out the minute.
*Typing Noises*
*Ding*
"We will now have a moment of silence for the fallen. 14,540,322 fresh souls return to the end."
14 million…?
Goosebumps cover my skin
Fuck… I don't want to die.
I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die—
I can't catch my breath.
*Ding*
*Typing noises*
"Now. Please select a weapon. The four choices of weapons are:
Sword
Bow
Axe
Spear
Just say the name of the item and it will be selected.
They will be right outside of your box, so be sure to take it."
Millions just died and they just… move on?
Four images pop up on the screen, each one presenting the weapons just stated.
I swallow dry air.
"Spear."
*Ding*
*Typing noises*
"Now, these weapons will be very helpful, but they aren't the only means of protecting yourself. Some races have claws, size, fangs, and other unique attributes they can use to their advantage.
Although the ones who will stick out and triumph will be those who learn to dig their mind into magic.
Everyone here is capable — but it's extremely difficult to do so in the time you have.
Ready yourself.
Your boxes will open in 1 minute."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A timer appears on the screen, eerily counting down each second.
"30—29—28…"
Each breath I take grows louder, sharper.
The anxiety swells in my lungs like water. It doesn't feel real — like I'm watching this happen to someone else.
But the coldness of this box can't be fake.
The pounding of my heart is too real.
The way my skin presses against this prison.
Fuck…
I'll grab the weapon the second this opens.
To ready myself for hell.
Fuck…
"5—4—3—2—1…
BEGIN."