Blorbo sat idly inside the wagon, metaphorically slumped over in despair. The sounds from inside the hut were muffled by the thick wooden walls, leaving him with no entertainment whatsoever. No grushkins running around doing something stupid. No Ducaz trying to sell Anders a horse. Not even Lena loudly mispronouncing things and accidentally summoning divine candy-based abominations.
Just silence.
A stray breeze rustled through the trees, shifting the cloth covering the wagon just barely.
Blorbo stared.
The breeze stopped.
He continued staring.
A single leaf drifted down from a branch above. It twirled in the air before finally settling onto the ground.
Wow. Riveting.
Maybe if he stared hard enough, a quest might pop up.
A grushkin popped his head outside of the door.
Oh. Something interesting!
He looked around, then popped his head back in.
Never mind.
Surely this would be the most uninteresting day of his new life.
The space before him torn. A portal of darkness appeared.
What.
There was no dramatic thunderclap as an oval-shaped void of complete, perfect darkness yawned open, peeling the space apart like a sheet of paper.
From it, a figure leapt.
A robed man with a hood over his head.
The Four-Gloved Mage.
The same one who had subjected Lena to the most tedious financial torture Blorbo had ever witnessed.
What…
He landed in a crouch in front of the wagon, making no sound. The horse wasn’t even alarmed by his presence. Somehow, his robe still billowed in perfect ripples despite the complete lack of wind. His gloved hands gripped the edge of the fabric portal as it rapidly stitched itself shut, sealing the darkness away as if it had never been there.
The Mage remained poised for a moment, then gracefully stood upright, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves. “Ah! What a successful demonstration of ze silent void traversal,” he mused. Then he froze for exactly three seconds before turning his eyes to Blorbo. “It is hard catching you alone, you know. Zat A-ranked Mage had keen ears, so it was quite a hassle.”
Blorbo suddenly got the very distinct impression that the Mage was looking at him. Not just at him—through him.
I’m just a table. I swear. A completely normal, boring, definitely-not-sentient table.
“Ah! I am not to disturb ze natural progression of ze system user more than I already have.” He produced a quill from within his robes and began aggressively stabbing the air above Blorbo.
What did you just call me? A system user?
He KNOWS about the system?
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
With each jab, ink bloomed in the air like invisible parchment had been unfurled, forming a perfectly legible ledger of…
… Absolutely nothing. The words he wrote disappeared a blink after being formed.
How much do you know? Tell me!
“Ah, zut alors!” The Mage clicked his tongue, shaking the quill like one might shake a faulty pen. “Your system has been rather… inefficient at its task. We must give you an unfair advantage. Judgment Day is coming soon.”
Judgment Day?! Nah, man. I’m done. I don’t need to know more. I’m fine with being a normal, underachieving table—
“Ze finest system user shall rise against ze God-King of the Thousand Realms. It is a must.”
THE WHAT.
I DO NOT WANT TO RISE AGAINST THE GOD-KING OF THE THOUSAND REALMS.
Ah, you harlot-buttock…
The Mage continued stabbing his quill at the air, scribbling things Blorbo couldn’t even pretend to read before they vanished. Every stroke felt like nothing, but also like reality itself was being rearranged.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“No, no, no,” the Mage muttered, clicking his tongue. “Zis will not do! If you are to rise against ze God-King, you must be prepared! You are far behind schedule.”
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I DO NOT WANT TO BE PREPARED. I AM JUST A TABLE. GO PREPARE SOMEONE ELSE.
[NEW QUEST: Trial of Ascension]
Objective: Prove yourself worthy of system advancement.
Reward: ???
Failure: The system shall compensate accordingly. Won’t you, system?
Accept: YES / [NO]
Ah-ha! A NO option! Blorbo mentally slammed that sucker so hard his metaphorical fingers shattered.
[Error: Denial rejected.]
NO NO NO NO NO—
[System Override: Quest Accepted. The command has been manually overridden.]
“Oh, très magnifique!” The Mage clapped. “Ze process begins! Do not resist. It will only make ze pain worse.”
Before Blorbo could process his imminent suffering, a sudden crash echoed from inside the hut. Loud voices followed—Anders’ gruff barking, Lena’s startled yelp, something being knocked over.
The Mage paused, tilting his head. “Ah. It appears ze rabble are returning.”
YES. THAT’S RIGHT. PEOPLE. REGULAR, FUNCTIONING PEOPLE WHO CAN FOCUS ON LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE BUT ME.
The Mage let out a prolonged shhhhh, then pressed a gloved thumb against Blorbo’s surface.
Blorbo stiffened. What are you doing what are you doing what are you doing—
A flood of information surged into him like a dam breaking. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It was like being force-fed an entire encyclopedia in one bite.
[You have gained: Epic Level Passive Skill – Skill Appraisal of the Darkness Realm – Level 1]
WHAT.
[Skill Appraisal of the Darkness Realm – A passive ability that allows you to instinctively recognize any and all skills, spells, and abilities within your perception range, along with their Rarity and Approximate Rank. Warning: Knowledge overload is possible. Upgrades will increase your length and knowledge storage capacity.]
YOU CALL THIS A USEFUL SKILL?!
What was he supposed to do with this? Yell out “oh wow, that’s a rare spell you’re casting, Lena!” except—oh wait—HE HAD NO MOUTH?!
I still have yet to learn anything! Whatever you told me just gave me more questions! At least instead of giving me an entirely irrelevant Appraisal skill, you can, like, upgrade my existing Appraisal so it works when I actually want it to?
The Mage, seemingly pleased, dusted his hands off and stepped back. “I am generous, no? You shall need zat skill, in time.”
The Mage exhaled. “Alas, our rendezvous must end.”
Without another word, he flicked his wrist. The void split open again—silent, seamless, swallowing up the space behind him like ink bleeding into paper.
With an elegant step backward, he vanished into the darkness.
The portal snapped shut. It was gone. Then the door to the hut slammed open.
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Daniel Newwyn
