Blackthorne: A Beautiful Nightmare

By Scottie Futch

A young man with a dark past has come to be filled with self-loathing. Scott Logan spends his days pretending to be a joyful person to mask his soul-crushing loneliness. Intimate human relations seem an impossibility to him, until one day the inexplicable happens. The entire world fell asleep at the same time. The Earth was set to be upgraded by those who supposedly ruled over it, and from that moment on The Dream was born.

Join Scott Logan on his journey into another world linked with his own, one where onions walk on two feet and force people to cry for them... and into a reality where the truth of his very soul is revealed.

This story is one of the more important tales in the Project Scott multi-verse. It is here that people eventually come to understand just why 'Scott' in any iteration seems to constantly be involved in weird shenanigans and draws in the attention of lonely people in need of cuddles and the occasional baked goods.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scottie Futch
• Release date: Dec 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463559314

Scottie Futch

I am a former soldier, but current lover of pop-culture. I like anime, manga, comics, animation in general, and zombies. I always have to mention the zombies! Anyway, I spent four years in the US army as an Advance Field Artillery Tactical Data System Specialist. This is a fancy way of saying, "Guy who coordinates the battlefield and makes coffee." I am irreverent in nature. I tend to laugh at the strangest things, and usually those things are inappropriate to laugh at. This sort of fascination with the inane leads me to write comedy stories, and off-the-wall adventures.

Book preview

Blackthorne: A Beautiful Nightmare

Volume 1

By Scottie Futch

Copyright Scottie Futch 2018

Smashwords Edition

License Note: This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author's Note: Hello friends, and welcome to my beautiful nightmare.

While not all of the mentioned content will occur in this specific novel, this series includes explicit violence, sexual elements, graphic depictions of said violence and sexual elements, and the occasional bout of feels. All characters portrayed in scenes of a sexual nature are eighteen years of age or older, and are adults of their respective race or species, though again that may not apply to the specific book that you are current reading.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

See You Next Adventure...

About The Author

Discover Other Titles

Learn More About Gamelit and LitRPG

Harem Literature

Chapter 1

A portly young man of twenty-two years, Scott Logan possessed both the sallow complexion and scraggly beard of a perennial shut-in. His was the appearance of a man who had largely given up on life.

Currently, his face lacked the typically haggard or blank expression that he wore when alone. Instead, his eyes were ablaze with wonder and his tone filled with a manic form of whimsy that caused random people to stare at him in open mouthed surprise.

Hello happy people! he cried while offering a ridiculous overly the top expression of joy. Welcome to Archers.

Mama, that man is wearing rabbit ears, said a little girl after pulling her thumb from her mouth.

Yes, he is! exclaimed the little girl's mother. She made a big fuss over the situation and acted like it was a wonderful thing to see a grown man wearing rabbit ears.

You must really love your job, said the woman as she pulled her child along. She offered Scott a smile that seemed warm on the surface, but held all of the authenticity of a chocolate coin wrapped in gold colored foil.

Ma'am, you have no idea how strong my feelings are for this job, said Scott while offering his best and most cheerful smile.

She nodded at him politely and tugged her child along. The moment no one was around Scott's face sagged a little. He glanced at the time on the nearby cash register then grinned. He only needed to put up with the asinine bullshit of his daily grind for five more minutes.

Time flowed quickly from one minute to the next. Scott's anticipation grew, but something horrible became apparent. Sadie, the woman who was scheduled to come in to take over the customer service center had yet to appear.

Three minutes past time for him to clock out, he radioed the store's team leader Ashton. Hey, boss lady. Any sign of Big— Scott caught himself mid-speech. He was about to say Bigness, a nickname that he had for one of his coworkers. ...Sadie?

Big... Sadie? she asked with a slight snort. The radio remained silent for a moment, but when she called back it was to give him the worst news imaginable. No, I haven't seen her. Is she supposed to be here today?

Yeah, like four minutes ago. I'm already running past schedule, he answered.

"You are? My little sheet thingy says that you're scheduled till six," said Ashton in a pouty tone of voice.

Scott blinked owlishly, his eyes going wide at the end. Why was she pulling the cute girl routine on him? Did she not realize how few in number were the fucks that he legitimately gave about her plight at the moment? Well, two people could play workplace power games. So, I'm getting overtime?

Wait, what? No. No. No... she said.

I'm just saying... You remember, right? I had to do a double shift the other day. I also stayed over to cover part of a cashier shift. I'm like ten minutes away from forty hours, he told her casually.

"Well. Crap, said Ashton. You should go clock out, I guess..."

Who's gonna watch the front-end? he asked her. Honestly, he did not give even half of a damn about that at the moment. It was still proper to ask her, however. Appearances were important, even when one did not care about them.

"It's only two hours. Guess I'll have to do it..." she said in a way that made it sound like she was pouting.

Scott restrained himself from saying the word, "Good. Instead, he radioed back, Alright, boss lady. I'll head out then."

Have a good night, Scott. Her voice sounded even poutier than usual.

Well, since you asked me to I'll do my best, he responded with all of the cheerfulness that he could currently muster. He might as well go out on a high-note, after all.

"Yay. That's the spirit..." she said hollowly.

He did his best not to laugh at her dispirited response. Nothing good could come of it, and he did want to escape his working day nightmare as soon as possible.

No time was wasted in rushing back to the employee area. He waved rapidly at the people working at the pharmacy, and then punched in the code to the backroom. Once inside, he raced to the time-clock and clocked out for the day.

Free of the restraints of his job, and the possibility of having to work later, he went to the locker that he used for the day and took out a change of clothes. He quickly changed into a normal outfit and removed the heinous work clothing that signaled corporate ownership of his soul.

He waved to various people and did his best to seem happy and well-adjusted up until he left the building. The moment he stepped onto the concrete walkway in front of the store his body drooped slightly and he released a tired sigh.

The light died in his eyes even as he acquired a blank expression that held only the hint of a smile, one that he forced himself to increase slightly for a time. The work day was over, he no longer needed to pretend to be someone else. For a time the world around him seemingly faded into nothing but white background noise.

Head down he walked away from the store front and began the arduous journey home. Along the way he sneezed loudly, twice.

Damn, it's getting worse, muttered Scott. The last thing he wanted to do was to get sick. The next few days would be blissfully work free since it was Thursday, but he had already reached the point where they would have to pay overtime.

Archers never paid overtime. Those corporate bastards would let half the store stay home rather than risk paying an employee more than minimum wage.

A few minutes later he sneezed for a third time, and felt the onset of a headache. A tired sigh escaped his lips. He noticed where he was then said, Guess I'll get something after all.

Decision made, Scott crossed the street and headed for the Supra-7. It was a convenience store that he frequented for various reasons, mostly due to the fact that the shelves stayed stocked as full as possible. The owner did not believe in only stocking the bare minimum to cut costs, a fact that caused the store to be quite popular in the local area.

Once inside he saw someone he knew. Scott threw his hand up and did his best to wave in a friendly manner. Hey, Danny.

Hey, man, said the guy behind the counter. Danny, last name unknown, was a young man Scott who saw frequently working as a cashier at the Supra-7. Local gossip and general suspicion claimed that he was related to the store owner, but Scott never managed to care enough to ask.

Pleasantries spoken, Scott headed to the medicine aisle and snatched up some cold medicine, and then grabbed a cold drink. At the checkout counter he was in for a mildly rude awakening, however. Scott stared at Danny. You telling me that this cold medicine went up two dollars since yesterday?

Yeah, it always goes up in the winter, said Danny. Though, that's a bit much...

Scott grunted and paid for his purchases. He was tired of greedy corporations sucking people dry. Humanity became shittier by the day as far as he was concerned.

Where's the apocalypse when I need it? asked Scott with a snort. He laughed to himself, a sad little noise that spoke volumes about his exhaustion.

I hear ya, man, said Danny with a laugh of his own.

Purchases in hand, Scott waved to Danny and left. The better part of half an hour passed on the way home before a strange scent caught his attention. He sniffed the air like a hunting dog for a moment then realized what was going on.

His nose crinkled in disgust. Damned chicken house...

He had left the city proper and entered the rural area near his house. In the distance, down a long dirt road, people were loading chickens onto the back of a truck.

Scott snorted a little then sneezed once for the effort. His eyes watering slightly, he still managed to speak his piece. Party's over. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

A cacophony of squawking echoed from the chickens as someone obviously did something to piss them off even more than the current situation did. Scott decided that it was their way of responding to him despite the fact that there was no way that they could have heard him.

Eh? Fuck you, ya squawking bastards. Call me when you're delicious, he said before he allowed himself a genuinely amused laugh. Not long after, however, a few of the chickens broke free and made a run for it. Despite their best efforts, though, most were rounded up quickly and herded off toward the truck that would take them to meet their ultimate destiny.

He spent a brief moment watching the scene unfold. The moment passed and he looked away. Something about the situation bugged him, but he was not certain exactly what it might be. It was a common sight, really. It happened every year. The chickens lived their lives and laid their eggs, and then at the end of the year they would be herded off to processing.

Eventually he moved on, but the unsettling sensation continued to plague his mind. After he reached his home, but before heading inside, the sound of a helicopter flying overhead caught his attention. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up. Military, huh? They're popping up a lot this week.

Once he managed to make it inside the house, he tossed his stuff on the couch and stripped down to his underwear. He lived alone. There was no one to judge him, and he refused to wear his work clothes for another moment.

The television blazed to life a moment later. Why's it on a show about plastic surgery? He checked the channel then grunted as he recalled the reason. It was one of the life science channels, last night he watched something about sharks.

Skin grafts for burn victims, eh? asked Scott while the off-screen narrator explained the process of replacing badly burned flesh with fresh new tissue.

He watched for a few minutes then switched over to one of the movie channels. He continued to flip through the channels until he found something that at first glance appeared to be a zombie movie.

This could be good, he said before he grabbed his drink from his bag and opened it up.

Rotting fingers tried to grasp a fleeing victim even as Scott took a large gulp of his drink. Hearing the moans of the infected, and seeing the hunger in their cold dead eyes reminded him of something.

He set the remote down and headed toward the kitchen. While the woman on screen ran for her fictional life, Scott pulled out a plate of left over barbecued ribs. The movie cut to a commercial while he heated his dinner in the microwave, but as luck would have it the advertisements came to an end just after he sat down to eat.

Hungry zombies tore into the stomach of their prey even as Scott ripped a rib from the meaty mass on his plate. Scott ate impassively while the zombies pulled intestines forth from their still screaming meal in a manner similar to how a circus clown might pull colorful scarves from their pocket.

He gnawed the bone while the zombies ripped open the ribcage of their prey. Scott never batted an eyelash. Though barbecue sauce dripped down his face to splatter obscenely onto his plate.

Scott became engrossed in the tale of terror and commercialism based satire for quite some time. Sadly, the movie finished long before his meal did as he chose to take his time and gnaw all the meat from the bone.

Ah, well. It was a nice apocalypse while it lasted, he said with a laugh.

He turned it back to the plastic surgery show after he realized that there were no more zombie movies on for the moment. Ah, now they're on fake boobs?

Once you have properly prepared and sanitized the area, you will begin the procedure by making an incision along the— said the voice over guy as the surgeon on screen began the grisly task of giving a woman fake breasts. However, he was suddenly cut off by a bright flash of light.

Just as sudden as the flash of light came, darkness followed. Scott collapsed sideways on the couch, remote in hand. He was not the only one to fall unconscious, however. On screen the live broadcast showed the surgeon falling down atop his patient, even as the assistants in the room all crumpled to the floor.

All across the world, and all at once, everyone fell unconscious. Regardless of who they were, or what they were doing, humanity fell asleep or remained asleep if they were already sleeping.

Scott awoke to the sight of nothing. Rather, he was in an empty black space. He called out, The hell? Where am I?

In response a small table appeared before him inside of a cylinder of light. Inexorably, he found himself drawn to that table. Unable to fight the pull, he was soon seated and faced with a choice.

On the table before him a single sheet of paper, a pencil, a cup, and several dice appeared. A voice spoke in the darkness. Update in progress. Please redistribute your attributes, and reallocate your skills in preparation for the upcoming world system upgrade.

Who? What the hell is going on? asked Scott in agitation. In that empty space, no one answered that question or any other that he asked. For quite some time he shouted, requested, and even begged for an answer. In the end, it proved useless to question the situation. Nothing existed there save for the table, its contents, and the confused young man who bore witness to them.

Time passed, or rather he believed that it did. It was impossible for him to know how long he existed in the total darkness of the place to which he had been taken. No matter how many times he screamed for an answer, or struggled to stand up from his seat, nothing new happened.

Eventually, he stopped struggling and gave in to temptation. The sheet of paper on the table caught his attention earlier, but it seemed pointless to focus on it due to his strange captivity. He needed answers, not to play a game. The paperwork provided was nothing more than a character score sheet such as one that might be seen in a role playing game.

Scott reached up and rubbed his eyes. His throat was a little hoarse from the shouting, and his ass hurt a bit from sitting on the uncomfortably hard chair for so long. Wherever this place was, it was obviously designed to force him down one route. He would have to play along and do as the sheet of paper instructed.

Who wrote these score values, though? He stared at the status sheet critically. On the surface it seemed similar to the standard systems one might find in games such as Dungeons and Dragons, or Pathfinder. Yet, his assigned values were garbage.

Seriously, why the hell is my strength a seven? Shouldn't I be a cripple or a scrawny weakling? he asked. The stat values claimed that a core between nine and eleven was considered average. Every even number above or below ten offered a modifier that would help or harm his existence.

See, that right there is bullshit, he said after he read a few of the brief notes on the back of the score sheet. Strength provided boosts to melee attack damage and ease of using heavy equipment, but most of all it determined maximum lifting and carrying capacity.

Scott snorted loudly. You're telling me that I can only lift thirty-five pounds over my head? Bullshit.

In truth, with the exception of intellect his stats were all cited as ten or lower. His luck was actually a six, which meant that he was two modifier points lower than a normal personal according to this system. Of course, that stat he believed. Given how things worked out for him normally, it seemed more like a review of his life to date than a numerical value.

Surprisingly, his question actually brought an answer from the voice that he heard earlier. Scott looked around alertly in an attempt to find its source.

The system that governs this world is now undergoing an update process. Your scores are an approximation of the abilities that you possessed based on the previous system. The mathematical formulas have changed, said the voice in a strangely sweet manner. He did not notice it before, but the voice held a soft almost musical feminine quality.

Scott tried to ask a question, but the voice continued, You must redistribute your scores in order to be able to have a reasonable life under the new system. Failure to do so will cause you to awaken with default scores.

Default score? He looked down at the paper and noted that the default score would be an eight across the board.

No more answers came to him, despite his constant inquiries. In the end, he opted to just go with it to see what happened. Whatever was going on, he could do nothing else but play along.

Scott read the brief explanation on the score sheet once more then picked up the dice. Six-sided die...

He placed the four dice into the cup provided and shook them vigorously. With a snort he tossed them out onto the table with far too much force. Fully expecting them to bounce off of the table, he was surprised to see them each hit an invisible barrier and bounce back.

High number, five, said the voice. You will now have five ability points available to modify the new ability score rolls that you receive. You will also have five talent points that may be used to upgrade your chosen talents.

Right... Scott shook his head slowly then snatched up the dice and rolled again. This time the number shown was a six. However, it was acquired by adding the three best rolls of the four die that were cast.

Above his stats on the sheet there was a section with ten headings. He was supposed to write down the numbers rolled and pick the top seven for reallocation purposes. Six would be used for his stats and the lowest of those seven would be used as a skill point bonus. Reluctantly, Scott wrote a six into the first slot.

The six mediocre rolls later, he nearly jumped for joy when he received a sixteen. Hell yeah! Finally something worth a damn.

Happily, he received two more good rolls as well. The final roll, however, was a three.

Once he finished rolling, several books appeared on the table. The overly sensual voice prompted him to read them.

Attributes for Dummies? Talents for the Talentless? Scott read the titles while trying not to laugh. The bastards that did this to him wanted to rub his ignorance in his face.

He cracked open the largest book, one regarding the core rules of the supposed new system, and began to read. As he did so, he felt a strange sense of Deja Vu. It was like he already knew what he would find inside. The more he read, the stronger that feeling became. The strangest part of the situation was that he knew for a fact that he had never known that information before. It was as though it spontaneously appeared inside his brain while he read the book!

Less than ten pages into reading, Scott stopped and spoke a random number. He then rattled off what he suspected he would find on that page. He skipped ahead over one hundred pages.

Damn. It wasn't perfect, but I got most of it right, he said. Somehow reading the first ten pages of the book granted him knowledge of things that he would not find for another one hundred pages. His memory was not one hundred percent accurate, but it was close enough.

He went back to reading from where he left off. By the time he reached page one hundred he could almost perfectly recite information that he had never seen before that would not be found until page three hundred. It did not matter to him what page he chose, he could see it clearly inside his head before he even read it.

Scott spent quite some time jumping back and forth in the book while he guessed at the information that he would find. His guesses proved nearly perfect each time.

Congratulations. You've learned the core rules, said the sensual voice. It will be impossible for you to forget them regardless of your ability scores. Please read the remaining books.

The same phenomenon occurred with each of the other books. The shorter books were learned within less than a dozen pages, while most of the remainder took only thirty or forty pages to master.

You have to be kidding me, said Scott. The entire world would be entering a dream world in order to work toward developing their abilities and skills in anticipation of a total shift in the way reality on Earth worked. Death in the dream would be for real unless someone used a resurrection spell, similar item, or special tokens were used to buy resurrection.

A game? The whole world is turning into some sort of game... Scott shook his head, bewildered by the very thought of it. The rule books and system information did not call it a game, but what else could it be? There were stats, levels, skills, and even a respawn system.

Silence reigned for a while as he came to terms with things. Either everything he'd experienced was some sort of coma dream, or it was actually happening. If it was the former, then nothing mattered and this was just something his dying brain threw at him to keep him busy. If it was the latter, his choices would be extremely important.

A tag line from one of the books arose within his mind. What you once were is no more. What you choose to be is all that matters.

Scott tasted those words on his lips for a time. What did he wish to be? If given an actual chance to be whatever he wanted to be, what would he choose?

He frowned. It was obvious, actually. Save for a brief golden period back when he was a small child, and his father was still alive, life had decisively chosen to make him its bitch.

Day in, and day out, the same old grind, he said with a growl. The only people who bothered to try and get closer to him were also people solely looking to get him to do things for them. They either wanted him to take their work shifts so they could go fuck off somewhere, or asked for free food handouts.

People did nothing but take, and take. He wanted to be free of such things. More, he wanted the power to do anything that he desired.

Scott quietly admitted the truth to himself. He was something of a loser in life. In point of fact, it shat heavily upon him at every opportunity. At times it almost seemed like life was deliberately out to get him.

It was impossible to get close to people, to trust them. Trusting them only brought problems, or worse. No. If he had a legitimate chance to be rid of his old self and try to do anything else but be a cosmic butt-monkey, he would take it.

If this is true, then in about a year everything will be different. If I don't want to be someone else's bitch, I'll have to be too strong to mess with...

Power, unstoppable and undeniable all-around power. That was what he needed. How could he achieve it, though?

He searched his new memories. Magic was a thing now, apparently. However, it was heavily limited in that it drew on the life force of the caster. Using spells would allow for incredible potential, but it came at a high cost.

"Going full magic would make me beholden to others to keep me alive for a long time. Fuck that," said Scott. No, he would not choose to be a pure mage. However, magic would definitely be important in the future. Even the little tidbits of what he'd seen in the book showed the potential for supernatural power.

The more he thought about it, the more he began to categorize the choices available. He needed brutal power, lots of flexibility for growth, and enough life force to both cast spells and heal from his wounds quickly.

It came to him in a flash of insight. He needed a selfish new life that included skills and abilities focused on total dominance. Not a pure mage, and definitely not a pure fighter route. I need something that combines both with a focus more on magic early on.

His lips spread into a thin, grim, smile. "Oh, that could work..."

Scott immediately began making choices for his options. He placed his ability scores in the status slots that he believed would be most beneficial in the long run, and not just immediately. Once that was done, he chose his talents. Magical affinity and a talent that granted him improved vigor were the order of the day.

As far as skills went, the system was designed to work in three tiers. There were primary, secondary, and tertiary skill-tiers. He was allowed to pick skills that went into each tier and fill all of the available slots. After picking them, associated skill books appeared on the table. One by one he read through them, starting with the skill books for his primary skills as he was required to read them in order.

His primary skills were magic oriented, since they drew on his life force. It would be important to train them as rapidly as possible due to their cost of use. In his secondary slots he chose combat skills, and an ability that would allow him to use magic more effectively. The tertiary skills were used for support abilities and crafting skills.

After making his skill and stat choices, he was asked to create a name for his dream self. He thought briefly about it, and decided that he did not want to use his original name in the dream world. The last thing he wanted to deal with was people finding out who he was and hassling him in real life.

What's a proper name for someone like who I want to be? He considered a few choices, but in the end he decided to settle on something that sounded dark and edgy. A fitting name for what he chose to become.

Choosing a name, and finalizing his choices raised his level from zero to one. Upon doing so he gained more skill points and two more ability points. He spent them on his magic and blade masteries. Doing so allowed him to start off with two sub-skills, Longsword Mastery and Dark Lightning Mastery, at level one. The latter decision allowed him to learn the most basic dark elemental lightning spell, [Jolt!].

[STATUS]

Name: Scott Logan | Dream Form: Blackthorne

Level: 1 | Ability Points: 0 | Talent Points: 0 | Skill Points: 0

Life Force: 18

Strength: 13 [+1] | Agility: 12 [+1] | Vigor: 16 [+3]

Intellect: 14 [+4] | Charisma: 16 [+5] | Luck: 10 [+0]

[===]

[TALENTS]

Superior Magical Affinity | Minor Vigorous Body

[===]

[PRIMARY SKILLS]

Dark Magic - Rank: 18

- Sub-Skill: Basic Dark Lightning Mastery – Rank: 1

Conjuration Magic – Rank: 1

[Empty Slot]

[--]

[SECONDARY SKILLS]

Heavy Armor – Rank: 1

Blade Mastery – Rank: 20

- Sub-Skill: Basic Longsword Mastery – Rank: 1

- Sub-Skill: Basic Shortsword Mastery – Rank: 1

Arcane Ring Mastery – Rank: 1

[Empty Slot]

[Empty Slot]

[--]

[TERTIARY SKILLS]

Synergy – Rank: 1

Jewelry Crafting – Rank: 1

Enchanting – Rank: 1

Alchemy – Rank: 1

[Empty Slot]

[Empty Slot]

[Empty Slot]

[Empty Slot]

[===]

The sub-skills were most useful for their additions to his fighting power at the moment. Spending skill points on them would be wasteful as they required twice as many points to increase their rank when compared to their basic skill.

Whenever he gained a level he would acquire two ability points and twenty skill points as a base. Intellect modifiers would provide additional skill points, and also added new skill slots to use, but otherwise he would only be able to upgrade his skills through usage. According to his new knowledge that could be a lengthy process, though the intellect modifier would help.

His talents point were spent primarily on upgrading his magical affinity talent. It provided various bonuses, not the least of which was a boost to the intellect and charisma modifiers. Those bonuses would be quite important since the maximum ability score that he could gain through spending ability points was twenty. At least, that was the maximum that he could acquire during this phase of his life. After he left this tutorial area, things would be different.

If he wanted to increase a stat he would need to spend ability points equal to the base state modifier. At nine-to-thirteen points that would only be a one point requirement. After fourteen points it started to increase as the fourteenth point in a stat granted it a plus two modifier.

Isn't it weird that charisma is the primary magic stat? he asked lightly. Intellect mostly focused on skills. As far as the system was concerned, charisma was strength of spirit.

Charisma is both an attractive quality that can inspire devotion, and a divinely granted power or talent, said the voice. In the original context it often led to the development of powerful command oriented talents and overall leadership capacity.

The voice paused briefly and then continued, In the new system it also relates to the ability to control supernatural forces and can be seen as similar to strength of spirit or willpower in that regard.

Ah, I see... said Scott. He knew that charisma was cited as something that paladins had that related to leadership and their magical abilities in some games. It made a weird sort of sense.

The table and its contents disappeared a moment later. He was drawn to his feet and then his chair disappeared as well.

Your reallocation has been completed. The character file changes will go live in twenty-four hours. Thank you for your support, and have a nice existence, said the voice.

Oh? So what happens, now— began Scott. He was cut off before he could complete his question, as another flash of light flared in his field of vision.

With a start his eyes shot open and he sat up on the couch. His heart hammering in his chest, he looked around bleary-eyed while trying to comprehend what had just happened. On the still-playing television a similar situation occurred as the surgeon and his assistants began to stir.

Scott sat motionless for several minutes. The return to reality proved to be a strange experience. He still remembered the information from those books, and the sight of people staggering around on television while they tried to piece together what just happened to them was too compelling to allow him to look away.

It was not until a strange squawking noise reached his ears that Scott snapped out of his semi-trance. He went to the door and looked out to see what was going on.

Chickens...? he asked, his eyes widening in the process.

Thousands of chickens, if he were to guess the numbers, roamed the streets. They clucked and they squawked. Some of them fought for love and glory, while fat hens sat nearby and watched in feminine curiosity as they awaited to receive the invitations of the winners.

The hell...? he asked, slowly. Where did all of these chickens come from?

He walked outside and looked around, then immediately realized that something far worse than a chicken uprising had occurred. Down the street one of the neighboring houses was partially burnt. The entire left-side of the two story home had fallen to the ground. The expensive car in the burnt out garage was now nothing more than a smoldering hunk of metal. Even at this distance, it was easy for Scott to see that the tires had melted and the car rested on its rims.

Shit! he called out. He disliked people in general, but he was not an asshole about it. Just like any reasonable neighbor, he rushed down the street to see if anyone needed help.

The fire seemed to be out, but the area was still hot. Scott called out, Hey anyone in there?

The chickens clucked loudly in the background, even as Scott ran to the front door and tried the handle. It was hot to the touch comfortably, but cool enough that it did not burn his hand.

Inside the house, he was assaulted by a wave of heat, but no flames. The fire died out completely some time ago.

It did not take long for him to find what, rather who, he was looking for inside the house. When he did, Scott immediately felt his bile beginning to rise from his stomach.

He threw a hand to his mouth and staggered back. In the burnt out garage he found the corpse of a charred human being. There was no way for him to tell if it was a man or a woman, or even if it was actually one of his neighbors for that matter.

Near the charred body, he saw what appeared to be the burnt remnants of a propane torch. The flame had long since gone out, but it had done its work all too well.

Was he welding something in here when this happened? Looks like he used to be wearing goggles. It was impossible to know for certain, but the fact remained that most of the actual fire damage looked to be in this area. The melted goggles that were supposed to protect his eyes made it plausible.

Scott fought down his urge to vomit and checked the rest of the house. He found a woman and a dead infant upstairs.

He stood there for a moment, his shirt covering his nose. The sight of the woman and her child lying next to each other was incredibly disturbing. They didn't look injured, but after a quick check their bodies were far colder than they should be. He felt no heartbeat, and they did not stir. If they weren't dead, they were close enough to it that he could not tell the difference.

Smoke inhalation, or heat from the flames? He did not know which of them had taken their lives. Either way, the family was dead.

Well, fuck... said Scott. He did not know his neighbors well, or even their names for that matter. Yet, the sight of them lying dead in their own home was too much for him to ignore. He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed them for a moment while trying to rid himself of the unwanted images.

There were only five houses in the area, and two were empty. Scott went to see his other neighbor, but noticed their car was gone. He knocked on the door, but after a while he assumed they were gone.

After wading through the chickens, he returned home and immediately called 911. His eyes narrowed when someone else responded, We're sorry. All circuits are busy at this time. Please hang up and try your call again.

Shit! What's going on? he asked in annoyance.

He glanced over at the people on television. They were sitting around discussing what they'd seen instead of attempting a surgery. The cameraman had not cut to commercial or anything of that sort. At first it seemed odd, but as Scott listened he began to piece together the reasoning for the show to continue. They had the time-slot booked and the surgeon refused to continue the operation due to what occurred a few minutes prior.

This show's filmed in California... said Scott. The same thing had happened to people on live television even though they were an entire continent away. Was there actual truth to what he'd witnessed in that strange dark area?

Several minutes passed in silence before Scott decided to get dressed. There was no point in sitting there when he needed answers. Running around town in his underwear would be foolish, so he opted for a good set of boots and casual clothes.

Chickens squawked at him as he walked by them. Several ran around in circles playing grab ass with each other. It was a golden era for chicken kind, the glorious revolution was at hand and with the flames of revolution came freedom for the tasty masses.

Down the street he eventually happened across the chicken house and saw the truck loaders standing around. The distance was too great to know what they were talking about, but it was obvious from their animated expressions that they were having a heated discussion. Someone had serious explaining to do in regards to the chicken liberation.

Viva la nuggets? asked Scott with a flat expression.

Eventually he grew tired of watching chickens wander around like they owned the place, and he moved on. Soon he came across other people wandering the road. A few looked askance at him, but said nothing. Their eyes wide in surprise and fear, they kept close to their little groups.

Scott wandered into the outskirts of town then stopped dead in his tracks. At the next intersection he saw several cars piled together in a broken and mangled heap. Bodies of the dead and injured were dragged up on the sidewalk, but no emergency personnel were on the scene.

In the distance, sirens blared, but the sound seemed to be receding. The first responders were not coming to this tragic scene, but to some other area of town.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the air. Scott raced forward to see what had happened, only to stare open mouthed at the answer. Down the street he could see the wreckage of a military helicopter. Concrete and other debris fell down atop it even now. A quick glance upward revealed the fact that a large section of a tall apartment building was demolished.

Did the helicopter fly into it? he asked slowly. No, it must have crashed at high-speed to do all that...

He'd just formulated his thoughts on the matter, the helicopter pilot crashed into the building during the time when people fell unconscious, when a sheriff's car pulled out.

A loud horn blared followed by a loudspeaker announcement. It is not safe to be in the streets. Return to your homes and await further instructions.

Scott trotted over to the cop car. The officers inside waved him away, but he shook his head and shouted out, We've got injured and dead.

The officers spoke back and forth briefly, then one rolled his window down and called back, The medical teams are doing what they can, but there's a lot of it to do. We'll do what we can here till they arrive.

Not long after he announced that tidbit of information, another police car pulled up and a few men got out. They went over to the people gathered near the dead and injured.

There's three more dead at my neighbor's house. The place caught on fire, said Scott.

Anyone in need of medical attention? asked the officer.

No, they were dead. I just couldn't get through to tell anyone, he answered. Even their baby didn't make it.

The officer rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and then shook his head. "Damn..." he said in a low growl.

Scott gave them the address to his neighbor's place then decided that it would be best to go home. It was a madhouse in town right now.

He spent the rest of the night holed up in his house. No one came to check on the dead family down the road until the wee hours of the morning. A police officer came to his door to check on him, and Scott informed the man that he was fine.

The conversation continued for a short time. He learned that there was a standing order for people to stay in their homes for the next twenty-four hours. Water and electrical services may be intermittent, and he should let them know if he had any medical issues that required either.

After discussing his needs, or lack thereof, the officer left. Scott watched as he walked over to the next house and knocked on the door. Are they really going house-to-house checking on people?

It was strange to see such a thing, but then the reason behind all of the deaths and injuries was stranger still. They had never gone to these lengths after a bad storm, but this situation was more like the aftermath of an invasion than a hurricane clean-up effort.

He spent the day watching news broadcasts, and looking for signs of legitimate information. All manner of insane theories were tossed out onto the air waves to explain what had happened.

Despite the fact that everyone who survived the event possessed intricate knowledge of the new system to come, professional science types pulled a Sarah Palin and refudiated such things as nonsense. They disavowed and refused the concept to such a degree that it was impossible to stress how little they accepted the premise without combining the words refuse and repudiate into a portmanteau of utter rejection.

Scott listened to one well-respected scientist claim it was mass hysteria, despite the fact that people who were on opposite sides of the planet experienced the event simultaneously.

His favorite brain-trust individual was the one speaking now. He could not help but snort when the man spoke again to defend his position. The reporter interviewing the award winning scientist asked, "So, it really is your assessment that this happened because of space gas?"

It's the truth! Gases entering our atmosphere must have built up for a lengthy period of time and caused everyone to hallucinate, said the scientist. No other logical explanation exists.

Man, the only space gas involved is right there between your ears fella, said Scott with an amused snort.

The science type on the screen continued to stress the dangers of extraterrestrial gas emissions, while Scott turned to look at the time. They said twenty-four hours... Soon the world would know for sure if the weird announcements in that event were true, or if alien farts were coming to kill them all.

Chapter 2

Grass was a common sight in most places, but something glorious in this strange land. The endless grassland stretched out well into the horizon beyond. As Scott watched the gentle swaying of that dream-like vista, he listened to the music that played in the background. It was a jubilant, ephemeral, sound heard with perfect crystalline clarity.

It was almost a sin to speak in this wild place while such music played, but then he had long since given up caring about a concept as useless as sin. So. This is the dream world, huh?

In his young life he had dealt with myriad difficulties and personal horrors that most people would never have to experience in any form. Tired of the world and everything in it, Scott nearly gave up his last shred of hope that anything good could come from such a pointless thing as life on Earth.

Everything changed three days prior, when for the first time he had become truly excited by something other than a new video game to steal his time away. As ridiculous as it might sound, the entire world fell asleep in unison.

The global phenomenon now known as the First Dream occurred without warning. No matter where they were, or what they were doing, everyone had fallen asleep. Several hours passed while the world slumbered on. Planes fell from the sky. Cars ran off of the road. Fires that sprang up continued to burn unabated, and surgeons even fell asleep atop their patients in the operating room. Tens of millions of people died that first day.

Scott did not much care about that. The world had done him no favors, and if anything its existence did nothing but steal time from his quiet life as a suburban hermit.

During those difficult hours for humanity, the modern zeitgeist was changed in its entirety. The spirit of the 2020s would no longer be that of a world on the verge of incredible scientific breakthroughs in computer and space technology. Slightly over three days after the dream began, the world had already started a grand shift in the expectations of the future.

The First Dream signaled a time of discovery for the human race. Compelled to change themselves, to become more than what they were before, humanity must follow new roads to its supposed bright future.

In fact, everyone was forced to recreate themselves anew. Levels, stats, skills and spells; these were the rule of law in the dream world. The dream operated exactly like a role playing game. It could be said that the entire world was on the cusp of becoming a full-immersion game system that everyone logged into upon falling asleep.

No one knew the reason why it happened, save for the strange knowledge that the otherworld books offered. No one knew how such a change was possible. Yet, it was the truth. When someone went to sleep, they would enter into an alternate reality that was both fantastic and impossible.

Now that Scott finally joined the rest of his fellow humans in this dream world, he was ready to begin making an attempt to live the life that he always wanted. His greatest personal desire was to be free of it all. He wanted to be beholden to neither the rule of law, nor the constant chattering of the inane and insipid people outside of his door.

He began to check his equipment. This world was like a game, and like a game he was gifted with starter equipment. While he did not enter this world properly on the previous night when the dream went live, he did revisit the dark room the night before that for a final gift, starter gear. He had seen his equipment at that time, and even had it fitted to his body, but he no one answered his questions about the gear he received.

Scott tapped his copper cuirass then unsheathed his copper sword. He placed his weapon back into its sheathe then considered the situation for a moment.

Better check their stats, he said lightly.

[Copper Sword of the Dreamer]

Equipped: Hand[1] | Weight: 3.5

Weapon Type: Short Sword | Attack Power: 4 | Quality: Standard

Structural Force Limit: +1 | Durability: 20/20 | Hardness: 8

Equipment Requirements – Strength: 9 | Agility: 9

Special Options: None

[===]

Nothing new there, he said.

Copper weapons were much stronger than ones made of wood or common stone, but compared to iron or steel they would be destroyed quickly in a fight. A hardness of eight was decent against fleshy creatures and cutting up meat, but against something like a steel breast plate a normal copper sword would lose two points of durability every time he struck it with sufficient force.

It would be much worse if his strength were higher. The structural force limit was only plus one. If he increased his strength to fourteen, he'd lose more durability than normal with each full strength strike. He would be forced to only strike with light hits for fear of breaking his weapon. Even those strikes would add up over time to reduce the durability of his weapon.

Sword's good, but better check my armor, he said before looking down at his cuirass.

[Copper Cuirass of the Dreamer]

Equipped: Accessory[1] | Weight: 18

Armor Type: Heavy Plate | Armor Class: 6 | Quality: Standard

Agility Reduction: -3 | Durability: 20/20 | Hardness: 8

Equipment Requirements – Strength: 9 | Agility: 9

Bonus Armor Class: +3

Special Options: None

[===]

Plain in most respects, his armor was embellished with shiny pink copper pauldrons and a gold colored ornament on the chest. There were ornamental chains that would encircle his upper arms on each side, hooked to his shoulder protection by another bit of golden ornamentation.

You don't look like you're made of copper. His words were an understatement. The chest piece of his cuirass shined brilliantly as though it were made of stainless steel. He eyed the golden parts for a moment then nodded. Plated for aesthetics?

It was entirely possible in his mind that those who started the weird dream business wanted the people to have fun. His armor was supposedly good for someone who was level one and just starting out, but it looked like something that a powerful warrior or a knight might wear.

I think I recall something about starting equipment matching skills and stats. My charisma is really high in comparison to most, I'm sure... Did the system decide that I would rather look flashy and impressive than to be strong? In truth, he had downplayed the need to strength and agility in favor of his charisma. Anyone would have thought similarly if they were to view his status information.

He turned his eyes from the fantasy world equivalent of ornamental wall armor and considered more necessary items of interest. That agility penalty will be a pain in the ass until I train the burden down, said Scott while he looked at the statistical information.

Heavy armor automatically reduced agility by two points for the first piece and then by an additional point for every ten pounds of armor weight. Choosing to equip it into one of his three accessory slots dropped his agility penalty by one point in regards to the cuirass itself, but the weight was high enough that any additional armor would likely add another agility point penalty.

The beginner clothing he was granted was quite fanciful. There were chains and embellishments that followed the theme of his cuirass. Of course it matches, my charisma demands it...

Scott chuckled to himself while he looked over his clothing options. Despite their appearance they only offered durability and no other stats. Even minor attacks would shred them, provided that they were stronger than the bonus armor class he acquired from equipping his breastplate. He could wear or wield anything he liked, but there would be penalties for using items if he lacked appropriate skills.

Armor's true penalty was that unless it was equipped as an accessory item, it would only provide protection for the location on his body where he wore it. Further, he would be unable to access the special options and would not receive any skill bonuses associated with it.

Weapons held similar concerns. He could attempt to wield anything that he liked, but there would be accuracy and damage penalties that reduced his total ability. Further, he would not be able to use the special options some weapons possessed.

During the First Dream he opted to choose skills that he was certain would allow him to become self-sufficient over time. He chose mostly magical and combat skills, but he also chose a few interesting production skills.

Upon acquiring those new skills he acquired the knowledge of how they were used. It was as though the information was directly downloaded into his brain. He only knew the most basic concepts and capabilities of his skills, but he would be able to learn more in time.

Skills and spells, the most important aspect of his new dream life, he needed to check them in order to see if they still worked in the way that his memories claimed.

After a moment of careful consideration, he decided to test his magical abilities. Scott raised his right hand then began to speak in a measured and confident tone.

~Anger of the disquiet soul, become my weapon and strike down my enemy. ~

Jolt! he cried.

He remained in place with his hand outstretched for a brief moment. However, nothing happened.

What? he asked after another few seconds passed without any sort of interesting effect occurring. Scott looked around but saw nothing to indicate that he'd even casted a spell.

Why didn't it work? He delved into his memories regarding magic. The basics where there, but it was not like he had been granted a step by step tutorial on magical spell casting.

It took him a few minutes to piece together what he needed to do. Scott tried once more.

Once again he raised his hand and pressed his palm forward. He concentrated on his breathing. He focused on a singular image within his mind, one of light