Nightmare Realm Summoner

Aaron hated his class.

A great number of things had gone wrong since the start of the apocalypse. More than he had any desire to count — but he was pretty sure that one of the biggest mistakes he’d made was his class selection.

I thought I was so smart. I was convinced that the best option was to go with the most unique class. One that felt like it would give me an advantage that nobody else would have. Even if the world was ending, I wanted to be a little unique. But at least a goddamn warrior gets to do something.

I just got scammed.

”You can’t just run!” Alex called.

Aaron took that advice to heart and dove forward. Wind howled over his head as the huge, wooden paw of a Lumbear streaked past his head. He hit the ground in a roll and sprang to his feet, still running.

The Novice 9 monster behind him let out a roar. Its steps thundered in pursuit behind him. Aaron risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. The monster was easily six feet tall. It loped after him, shaking the dirt with every step, hatred burning in its beady black eyes.

I don’t know what twisted bastard felt that a normal bear wasn’t scary enough and decided to make the damn thing out of fucked up wood, but I hope they step on splinters for every day of the rest of their life.

”Fight back!” Alex yelled. ”Why are you running from a Novice ranked monster?”

”Because I can’t fight back!” Aaron yelled, diving forward again. He came up and wrapped around a tree. The Lumbear plowed straight through it, shattering the trunk with an earthshaking crash. The tree pitched back and smashed to the ground amidst a huge cloud of wooden fragments and dust.

”You charged a Field Boss!” Alex snapped. ”You have a sword! Use it!”

”I was overzealous!” Aaron called back. The Lumbear burst from the cloud of fragments, massive claws digging through the earth as it thundered toward him and forced him to sprint off in a new direction.

Shame and embarrassment burned in Aaron’s heart. He caught glimpses of everyone else in the forest around him, fighting their monsters.

Not just fighting them. Beating them.

He’d spotted May killing a demonic looking bird several minutes ago, but here he was, still running from the first monster he’d met. His own little sister was a better warrior than he was.

It wasn’t a question of bravery. Aaron would have been more than happy to turn and stand his ground if he had the slightest way to actually fight back. He didn’t have any training with the sword at his side. It was about as useful as a big stick in his hands — except there was a chance he could cut himself with it.

I guess it’s even less useful than a stick, then.

Damn the System. I can’t believe I got taken for such an idiot.

Aaron dove again as he heard the Lumbear gaining on him. A rock caught him in the shoulder and sent pain arcing through his body, but he thrust himself up and kept running. It was the only thing he could do.

No matter how much Alex shouted at him to fight back, Aaron couldn’t do anything. His class was completely worthless.

The Gambler. What a joke of a class. No offensive abilities. I haven’t even gotten the other two auxiliary skills that Abby said everyone is meant to get. My Soul Manifestation only came with one auxiliary skill, and it’s fucking useless.

A tree shattered behind Aaron as the Lumbear plowed through it. Fragments of wood sailed through the air, ripping his shirt and cutting into the skin beneath it. Several of them lodged into him his back.

His teeth gritted.

He ran.

This is my fault. I thought I was special. I spent so much time playing games with mom that I convinced myself that I was actually amazing at them. Convinced everyone I was.

They never found out I always cheated. I suck at every single game I’ve ever played. I can’t read people. I can’t execute complicated strategies or think ten steps ahead. I just cheat.

Guess the System called my bluff.

”I can promise you that you’ve got less stamina than the bear,” Alex called. ”You need to turn and fight, Aaron. You’re making things harder for yourself.”

”I can’t fight!” Aaron yelled, but he knew Alex was right. His breath was coming harder and harder with every step. There was only so long he could run in circles and do nothing.

”Nobody starts off knowing how to fight! You have to send it!”

”You can do it!” Abby called, adding her own voice to Alex’s in support.

Shame flushed across Aaron’s features. She was supposed to be training, not watching him embarrass himself even further. His hands tightened at his sides — but embarrassment wasn’t going to kill the Lumbear.

His class didn’t have any auxiliary abilities. He only had two things to work with. His Soul Manifestation. His completely useless Soul Manifestation, and the worthless skill that came with it.

[Gambler’s Heart] (Novice 1) – Tough odds make a tougher player. Adverse effects are immensely more likely when playing games of chance, but games that you win have significantly improved outcomes.

The Soul Manifestation might not have been completely terrible if he had a way to get the Lumbear currently running him down to stop in its tracks, sit down at a table, and play a good game of cards. Of course, the odds were somehow no longer fair and he’d almost certainly lose — but at least he’d have a chance of winning.

Whatever that would entail. Maybe it would just have to leave a few extra poker chips on my mutilated corpse.

Unfortunately, Aaron was fairly certain the Lumbear had little interest in playing any game with him — and his class’ only active ability wasn’t about to help him with that.

[Pick a Fate] (Novice 1) – Choose a target and enter a magically empowered game of chance with them, setting the stakes and strengthening both boons and punishments that result from the game.

The ability was worse than useless. It was horrible. Aaron hadn’t thought so at first, of course. He’d been optimistic that, if he could actually manage to win a game, the benefits would be immense. Maybe the ability would just straight up kill his opponent.

There was just one problem.

His Soul Manifestation hadn’t been lying about those odds.

It had been playing with him from the start. While everyone else had been forced to wait all seven days before the System offered them their classes, for some reason, it had offered Aaron his class the same day it had announced the end of the world.

He’d been so smug choosing Gambler. Like he’d been some form of chosen warrior that the System had taken a liking to. As it turned out, it had just been having a laugh at his expense.

Aaron had used his powers once since the Apocalypse started.

The first time he’d called on them had been in his families’ restaurant, two days after the System’s announcement. It had been when a robber was pointing a gun at his father. He’d planned to force the man to play Russian roulette, with the robber taking the first shot.

Turned out, if he didn’t specify the game, the System chose one for him. A quarter fell from the robber’s pocket. Aaron’s eyes had traced it until it had nearly landed on the floor, where it was clear it would land on heads.

He made the call.

The quarter bounced in a way that should have been impossible.

A one in a million landing that had it landing perfectly on tails.

The gun went off.

He’d lost.

The robber had run, stammering that he’d never planned to pull the trigger. That it had just been a threat, and his finger had only slipped, as if pushed by an invisible force. He hadn’t meant to kill anyone.

And he was right.

The first time Aaron used his powers, he’d killed his own father.

His magic was cursed. He hadn’t used it since. It was a punishment for thinking that he was better than anyone else. If he’d just gone with a normal class — if he’d just taken the advantage the System had given him and taken a normal class without risking it all for a weird one, he could have saved his father.

He could have been able to protect May.

He could have fought back against the Lumbear breathing down the back of his neck.

”Come on!” May’s voice rang out. ”You can do this, Aaron! Fight it!”

Damn it. I don’t need May seeing this as well.

Despite himself, Aaron glanced in her direction. His eyes went wide in horror. A huge black-feathered bird streaked down toward her back from the tree tops — and she didn’t see it. The world felt like it dragged to a snail’s crawl.

Orchid was thrusting her staff forward, gathering magic, but she’d been distracted by May’s yell of support and wasn’t going to be fast enough to intercept the monster.

Aaron didn’t even have time to call out a warning. It would take too long. By the time May went to move, the monster would have already be raking its claws across her back. Nobody was going to be able to intercept it in time.

His hand moved on its own, grabbing a quarter that sat in his pocket.

The same quarter that had fallen to the ground of the restaurant.

Energy burned at Aaron’s fingertips as he drew on the cursed magic within himself. He would lose. Aaron knew that — but if he could buy even a second by distracting the bird, it would give Orchid a chance to save his sister.

And it’ll buy the Lumbear time to reach me as well.

Aaron ignored that thought. All that mattered was stopping the bird, if even for just an instant.

He ripped the coin free of his pocket and flipped it, activating his magic. Golden letters exploded through the air, carving themselves into existence, and the world ground completely to a halt as the coin spun, the only thing still left in motion.

Game: Coin Flip

Stakes: Speed

”Heads,” Aaron said.

His eyes could pick up on details that he never could have seen before. The coin fell back toward his hand — and Aaron knew without a flicker of a doubt that it was about to land on tails. Time stood frozen and he stood with it, unable to do anything but watch as fate sealed itself before him.

No. Not like this!

His body burned in agony as he desperately tried to do something — anything — to stop fate from playing out… but he was just as frozen as the rest of the world. His power was nothing but a curse. He was horrible at every single game he’d ever played and he’d known it.

Aaron’s eyes traced the coin as it fell toward his hand. There were only two flips remaining before it landed.

His teeth clenched.

Pain pierced into the back of his head like an ice pick.

”Fuck you,” Aaron hissed, forcing the words through stiff lips.

Magic exploded through his arm. His hand twitched. It moved upward by less than an inch as he stole a second from a frozen world. Not nearly enough to make a real difference in a fight — but just enough to do the only thing he’d ever been half-decent at.

Aaron cheated.

The coin smacked into the back of his hand in the middle of a flip.

It was heads.

He’d won.