Pushing Back Inevitability: Pushing Back Inevitability

By Tall Owl

The God of War from the world of Efra, Roki, sets his eyes on Earth and begins the process of invasion. The dormant gods of our world stir for the first time in millennia to call forth mortals to push back against the inevitable. Lawrence Able is a failed writer; still living at home with his parents. He is by all accounts, a loser, yet still those fickle gods find some ember of potential in him and send him an invite in the form of a popup on his computer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tall Owl
• Release date: Jul 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223066873

Book preview

Hidden Words

While writing this, my Patreon patrons had an opportunity to suggest words to hide within the stories. Now, these aren’t words that I just inserted into the story, these are words that are hidden within other words. Kind of like a word search. These are the words, and the chapters you can look for them in:

Chapter 14: Scholar

Chapter 20: Equinox

Chapter 24: Acquisition

Chapter 29: Heresy

Chapter 35: The Game

Chapter 1

Ashudder shimmies across my spine as the winds outside roar. I push myself away from the desk, and away from the glow of my computer screen. I yawn. Midnight was approaching, and the new moon solstice night stood black and eerie. The distant glow of Christmas lights dangling off the edge of roofs were the only source of illumination as thick and heavy clouds cluttered out the stars.

Rain begins to fall; tap-dancing across the terracotta shingles. I watch the passage of one day into the next — one season into the next, and welcome it with another yawn. I slide my tongue between the spot where my front tooth had once been and sigh as I slide the window shut. I catch a glimpse of myself in the second before the red curtains close. A glimpse that burrows into my memory. My brown hair was as thin as mist, revealing the pale scalp underneath, and my neck bulged from fat. Dark circles wrapped around my light blue eyes that my glasses sat awkwardly over. My head snapped to the side as I sigh and curse as I push my tongue through the gap where my front tooth had been once more. It had become a habit since it fell out last spring.

Still, the shudder remains. As if a pair of invisible eyes were locked at me from somewhere. I glance around the dark room. Shadow — the stray black cat that occasionally came in when it was cold or when it was raining, looks up at me with her bright agate gaze from her spot atop my pillow. My dog, Clio, rustled beneath the comforter laid over the mattress and box-spring combo laid on the floor in the corner by the window. I chase the foolish notion of spirits lurking in the shadow or curious gods in their etheric realms. This was an age of science and reason. The blaring light of the Enlightenment had cleansed the spirit haunted world, after all.

I pulled off my glasses and placed them back on the top of the bookshelf, and turned back to my computer. On the screen; over the document I had just been typing in, was a popup. I sigh. I was careful with the sites that I visited, and I never browsed without at least two adblockers. How did I get a virus? I take the few steps across the darkened, tile room, roll my chair toward me and sit.

If you had the choice would you fight for the safety of your world? Black text on a bright white background reads. The choices, yes, and, no, were highlighted beneath them.

I roll my eyes and sit on the rolling computer chair; the suspension squeals in protest as I push myself to my desk. At the very least, seeing where this thing leads would, for a time, quiet the anxiety screaming at me to continue working. The words were flowing like molasses anyways, and I was still stuck in bronze because of the unlucky influences of my teammates.

I move the mouse and click, yes.

My screen goes black for a moment, yet my reflection doesn’t catch on the screen. I blink and shake my head. By the time I open my eyes, I am greeted with another prompt.

Bold white letters in a calligraphic style scrawled across the top of the screen read:

Would you fight with magic, weapon, or with your wits?

I move the mouse again. As the cursor moves, the screen ripples as if it were moving through dark waters. The ripples spread beneath the words, and they bob up and down like string over water. I click magic. I always play a magic class.

Once again, the screen goes dark, and white letters once again write themselves out on my screen. The shiver returns.

Roki, the Wandering War God has conquered Efra, and has laid his eyes upon our world. He is mustering his forces for an invasion. In 24 hours, that invasion will begin. It reads.

I roll my eyes. Lore didn’t really interest me. I look for an option to skip, but there is nothing. I sigh and lean back in my chair and wait for it to end.

We, the gods and spirits of Earth have found potential within you, Lawrence Abel.

I sit up straight. How did this website know my name? Cookies? Keyloggers? I press the windows button to try to exit this program, then try the power button on the tower itself.

I sigh and lean back in the chair. What else could I do? Might as well go along with it before I wipe my comptuer.

It’ll be dangerous, and you could die. Knowing this would you still fight?

The words, ‘yes,’ and, ‘no,’ flash on the screen once again. I move my mouse. It is harder to move as if my body had been submerged in water. I click yes.

The words flash off the screen. In its place, another block of text begins to write itself out.

In order to help you start your fight, we would like to offer you the ability to choose three skills in your chosen field. We have outlined it in a format that you will be most familiar with.

Beneath this, a table began to draw itself out; like those skill trees that one might see in old-school RPGs. Countless ‘schools,’ of magic were written out over the top; anything that one might think of as magical was listed there; the classical elements of fire, water, earth, air and ether, hexes and curses, necromancy, conjuring, herbal, alchemy; anything and everything one could think of as magic.

I go to healing. I enjoy having some level of self-sustainability in games. The only one that I could click was, ‘Lesser Heal.’

A short description of the spell popped out as I hover over it with the cursor.

Through the power of Jehova, heal wounds and cuts. Besides that in the smaller text was the fraction 1/999. Was this one of those games where using a skill slowly increases its efficacy? I enjoy those types of games. The grind was usually pretty meditative. I click it. The, ‘3,’ at the top of the screen turns into, ‘2.’

Next, I look for a damaging ability. I scroll until I see the elemental section again. The only fire skill I could unlock was a skill called, ‘Ember.’ I hover over it, and the description reads as such.

Even the Giants of Muspelheim begin their lives as humble ember. 1/999

I look to the water section. I hover over the skill at the top of the page; Splash. A certain Pokémon comes to mind as I scroll past it right to the air section, where the spell, ‘gust,’ was the only one that I could unlock.

The Sylphs beat their wings through you. 1/999.

What good would a gust of wind do? I go to the ‘earth,’ section. ‘Ensnare,’ was the name of the spell that I was able to choose.

At a command, the servants of Gob, the king of the gnomes, reach out and trap your enemies. 1/999.

A snare would be a good thing to have. I drum my fingers across the top of my desk. The dull drum of the wood stops as I click on the skill. The, ‘2,’ become a, ‘1.’ I go back to Fire and click on ember. There. My initial three spells were chosen. Something to be able to heal myself with, something to keep the enemies at bay, and something to do damage to the enemies.

Are you satisfied with these three skills?

I click, ‘yes.’

The screen goes black again before words write themselves once more.

As thanks, we, the gods and intelligent beings of the world, would like to grant you the opportunity for a small miracle. If there was one thing about yourself you would change, what would it be?

PLEASE NOTE: by accepting our offer of a miracle, you are agreeing to fight in this war.

I skim the text as I push my tongue through the gaps where my teeth had rotted out from years of neglecting a serious gum disease.

A new set of indestructible teeth, I say out loud jokingly as I finish with the top part. I barely have time to read the, ‘please note,’ section before the text vanishes.

If that is what you wish.

The words flash again on the screen.

Huh?

The heaviness that had been covering me suddenly increases, as if I had just been thrown into the ocean. Suddenly I feel if my jaw was being crushed. I nearly vomit as I fall off my chair and to the floor. Clio gets up and rushes to me whining.

My gums rip apart, as one by one, my teeth begin to fall and rattle against the tile. I nearly swallow some of the back ones and was forced to spit them up. Sticky blood oozes from my torn gums and pools in a puddle. I want to pass out. I want to die. What did I do to deserve this pain? Answer a question on a stupid online game? I fall. Clio barks and Shadow scratches at the window and meows to try to escape. The whole process took ten minutes, and I move. Was it over? My tongue rolls over my still sore gums; feeling the small bumps where my teeth had been. The taste of copper rolls down my throat.

More importantly, was this all real? Had I just agreed to take place in a cosmic war?

The pain starts up again.

Fuck! I scream and slam my head against the bloody floor.

It starts from the top back right bridge of my mouth, and works its way to the back left, and then back again through the lower bridges. Brand-new teeth grow out of my torn gums. At some point during this process, the world turns black, as my head smacks against the tile.

Chapter 2

Consciousness returns hours later; as the first inklings of the morning begin to pierce the veil of curtains; casting red light into the room. Clio lies beside me and stirs at my sudden movement. The smell of hops permeates my nostrils as a beer can rolls beside my head beneath my computer dusk. What a dream.

Clio, move, I whisper as I gently tap the brown-furred dog.

Clio grumbles and whines as she saunters back to the bed and burrows beneath the comforter. I push up to my knees; my face peeling off of the tile as a sticky, red-brown substance adhered to my skin. It comes off in large flakes as I scratch at it with my pointer finger. A large molar dug into my cheek, I pull it off and roll it in between my finger and thumb.

Ceramic? I hoped.

Unconsciously, my tongue feels around my mouth. It finds no gap. None of the old ones, nor any new ones. Realization strikes me like thunder on a clear day; I scramble to my feet. My desk rattles as my head smacks against the underside I pull myself from the darkness and run to my restroom.

Once in front of the stained and smudged mirror I pull apart my lips with my fingers. Where my front tooth had cracked and fallen out, I now had a brand new, sparkling white one. I hook my finger to my cheek and pull; every single tooth that I had lost was there. It wasn't a dream?

Fear pounds inside of my chest like a war drum. Fear and something else that I am unfamiliar with. Anticipation? Excitement? I don't know. I push open the door to my room; as the cheap aluminum knob bounces off the round protector. The black mirror-like screen was gone, and the computer lay sleeping. On top of my keyboard, however, there were two things; a twig about the size of my forearm, and a square...thing.

It feels like both metal and stone at the same time. I turn it over in my hand. It catches the light and reflects back a spectrum of red. In the middle of it was a timer: 17:23:41. The 41 changes into a 40, and then into 39. The words, Time until the invasion begins, sit right above the timer. The 'screen,' bends and morphs at my touch, as if it were made from a type of gel.

What is this? I mutter.

As if responding to my question to no one in particular the 'screen,' changes. The timer vanishes, and the text changes.

This is a shard of the Bifrost; shattered during Ragnarok by Fenrir.

Well, I see it's a timer, but can you do anything else?

Shadow meows loudly from the pillow as I sit on the edge of the bed. She circles me and hops up onto my bookshelf.

This can tell you information about yourself, and the world around you.

I push myself off the bed and slide open the window. Shadow squeezes through the gap and hops down to the small table on the other side; weaving around the flooded pots of dead plants. Her tail curls around the corner of the turn as she vanishes. I look down to the Shard. As the white light from the cloud-filtered sun seeps beneath its surface, it shines like a sliver of rainbow. The calligraphic text reflects this change as well.

What can you tell me about myself? I ask it as I sit back down.

Once the curtains flutter shut, the screen returns to the red-spectrum hue. The words vanish and in their place is a table draws itself out:

NAME: LAWRENCE ABLE

AGE:30

OCCUPATION: UNEMPLOYED

LEVEL: 1

EXPERIENCE: 0/100

STATS:

STRENGTH: 10(-3)

STAMINA: 10(-5)

PERCEPTIVENESS: 7

INTELLIGENCE: 13

CREATIVITY: 15

ENDURANCE: 12 (-7)

MAGIC: 0 (+2)

COMBAT SKILLS:

MAGIC

LESSER HEAL 1/999

EMBER 1/999

ENSNARE 1/999

MEDITATION 6/999

CLOSE QUARTERS COMBAT

JAB 10/999

STRAIGHT 12/999

HOOK 9/999

GRAPPLE 14/999

Oh, so it's like a game? I ask it.

Clio crawls out from beneath the comforter and rolls over and stretches out her back.

Yes, the Gods have chosen a form of advancement they believe you'll be most familiar with. For some, it is in the form of a journal that gradually fills out, for others, it is in the form of a voice in their minds. This, 'game,' form, however, seems to be the most popular.

The text writes itself out.

What's with the negative modifiers?

Your weight.

So if I lose weight, will the modifiers disappear?

Yes.

How about the +2 on magic?

Because you chose magic initially.

Does that mean I can do magic?

Yes.

Then... I