Nightmare Realm Summoner

The hour and a half passed quickly. They spent some time discussing what the trial might be, but there was no way to guess for certain. Their time ended up being better spent relaxing and recovering their stamina.

Before long, Alex’s monsters had all run their timers out and were ready to be called upon once more. Claire and Alyssa had both completely recovered their own energy and had just taken to sitting quietly, meditating to still their minds before the fight.

Even Shawn had joined in. The massive giant sat across from them, his back leaned against the judge’s stand. But, as the time ran out, his eyes drifted open once more.

The giant rose to his feet, and the three of them did the same. There was an instant where they all stood, surrounded by the emptiness of the huge courtroom and restrained by the lingering silence in the air.

“You are prepared to face the trial?” Shawn asked.

All three of them nodded. Even if they were going to go up against Shawn himself, Alex was pretty confident they’d at least be able to put up a good fight when they worked together — and that went doubly so now that his monsters had come back to life.

“Then we will begin,” Shawn said. “For those of you who survive long enough to receive a reward, we will speak again.”

Wait. Why does it sound like—

Shawn clapped his hands together.

There was a deep thrum, like the very world had transformed into a strummed guitar string. Alex’s vision warped. His stomach lurched and color splashed across his vision, painting it in red and black hues.

And then the courtroom was gone.

Alex stood alone upon a hill of soft, black sand that shifted around his feet, small rivers of it cascading down along the dune beneath him. Similar dunes rolled out around him for a few hundred feet before coming to an abrupt stop before a sea of glimmering red stars.

Dull green light pulsated deep within the sand like veins of molten mountain dew — which really wasn’t anywhere near as appetizing as it should have been to someone who had spent a few years in a computer science degree.

A constant hiss tickled Alex’s ears as sand cascaded down the edges of the circular slice of desert, falling into the sky and vanishing from view.

There was no sign of Claire or Alyssa anywhere.

They were gone.

“Oh, shit,” Alex said. His words sounded hollow in the reddish night sky hanging above him.

It wasn’t a group trial. They were facing it individually.

His teeth clenched, but he didn’t let his guard down. This didn’t change anything. Claire was more than capable of handling herself. Alyssa — well, she’d have to pull through. She wasn’t a pushover if she’d managed to land on the Local Leaderboard. There was nothing he could do about her now. Wasting time worrying about anyone else would only put him at risk.

Alex scanned the sand. There were no System messages to warn him of exactly what the Trial would entail. It could have been anything… but given the fact that this was some kind of way to prove his worth, he imagined it would probably involve something trying to kill him.

That tended to be how things worked.

I have to ask, though… what does this have to do with rot? That first room definitely fit the theme. But both that mossy area and this sand doesn’t seem to have any correlation at all. Given the Rotkeeper guy literally has rot in his name, something tells me he sticks to what he knows.

So where does sand fit into the equation?

Not too far away from Alex, a dune shifted. Sand cascaded down its sides. The glowing green lines running beneath his feet pulsated, sending waves of light traveling toward whatever was moving beneath the dune.

A hand exploded up from beneath the sand. Yellowed, cracked fingernails dug into the sand for purchase as a sickly body followed after it. Greyish-black flesh hung in ragged tatters from the body of what had once been a man.

Sand stuck to seeping wounds covering the monster’s body in thick clumps. Its jaw hung askew, large chunks of flesh missing to reveal the aged bone beneath. The only spots of color upon the wretched creature were its eyes. Two dull, hollow orbs of vomit green twisted within its skull, transfixed solely on Alex.

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Gray Rotling (Initiate 5)

Fucking zombies. Of course. Are these the ones that shamble, or—

The zombie’s head snapped to the side. Its body jerked, lurching like a puppet on the strings of an impatient puppeteer. Then it doubled over. It lurched forward as if snapped down the middle. The monster landed on all fours, eyes never once leaving Alex.

A chittering click like the beat of a large insect’s wings came from deep within its chest. The monster twitched and lurched, but it remained in place for a moment as it studied Alex.

Goddamn it. Well, I guess I figured out where the rot bit came into play.

Then, without another sound, the monster burst into motion toward Alex. Its limbs moved in an odd mixture between a hose’s gallop and a sick cat’s stumble, lurching for him in a terrifyingly fast zig-zagging pattern.

Alex summoned his monsters with a thought.

The zombie leapt at Alex, its unhinged jaw clicking open as a ululating scream erupted from deep within it —

Princess’ huge hand slammed down on the monster’s back. The zombie’s scream vanished as it was driven into the ground with a loud crunch, hitting the sand with such speed and force that the dune did nothing to soften its landing.

Greenish blood splattered from its corpse. The Rotling twitched once. Then it went still. Alex’s other two monsters looked down at the dead monster, as if waiting for it to stand back up.

It never did.

“Well,” Alex said. He took a step away from the splattered monster — just in case — and glanced around the sloping dunes around him.

What exactly is the point of this trial? That monster wasn’t that strong. An Initiate 5… especially when Shawn was Expert, that doesn’t sit right. There’s no way they’d be going easy on me. The whole point of this thing is to test if we’re worthy of the Rotkeeper guy’s legacy. Why would you toss a weak enemy at somebody proving their worth? You shouldn’t give a shit about anything other than results.

Green light pulsed beneath the sand once more. Another hand exploded up from a dune to Alex’s left as another zombie started to drag itself free from its rough prison.

Glint darted for it instantly. The Glasmir drove his hands down into the sand as the zombie pulled itself up, sending glass claws carving through its skull before any information about it even had a chance to manifest itself.

The zombie collapsed, falling limp halfway out of the dune.

Alex’s eyes narrowed.

Something is definitely up here. What the hell are they testing? Because it sure as hell isn’t my combat ability. Not yet, at least. I’m missing something.

Alex glanced around the platform. More ripples of green light marked other zombies as they begun to dig themselves free.

He sent his monsters after the spawning creatures with a thought. There was no need to let himself get surrounded while he internally debated. All three of them darted off, slaughtering the monsters as they arose in the world’s most gruesome game of whack-a-mole.

The zombies continued to come. They also continued to die.

There was a chance this was some kind of endurance-based test. Maybe he was just meant to survive as many waves as possible.

But if that was the case, why would they go with such weak enemies? That’s not a very good test of real skill. This isn’t a video game. It’s a trial. One made by someone who actually seemed pretty damn devoted to his cause.

Beating pathetic enemies like this accomplishes absolutely nothing. It certainly doesn’t prove that I’m worthy of some ancient legacy. That means the real test is something else. I’ve missed it. So what would some bloke called the Rotkeeper value? What’s the actual test supposed to—

Alex paused. His eyes drifted down to the corpse of the first zombie. Of the Rotling.

“Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me,” Alex said.

There was, predicably, no response.

He looked down at his hand. If he was right — a gamble was in order. But it wasn’t a gamble that he was willing to take if everything here was actually real.

That, of course, was the real question. This world seemed real enough. It felt real, but was it? Shawn had sent everyone here with a clap of his hands. Alex didn’t know what the literal difference in power between an Adept and an Expert stage was… but instant relocation to a whole new world felt like a bit much.

Alex raised his eyes. Glint turned on the spot, racing back over to join him. The Glasmir reached out with a single claw and pressed it into Alex’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

It didn’t hurt.

Not at all.

Alex started to laugh. That answered both of the questions he’d had at once. Now he knew why the zombies were so weak. The answer was so simple that it was actually funny. He banished every one of his monsters with a wave of his hand. They vanished, transforming into streaks of light that flew back into his Spatial Mirrors.

There was nothing left to stop the zombies rising from the sand. They all lurched toward Alex. This time, nothing stood in their way.

“Come on, then!” Alex called with a wry grin. “Bite me!”

He stood in place, hands stretched out to the sides in welcome, and waited.

The Rotlings didn’t make him wait for long.

The nearest one raced toward him with a clicking hiss. It leapt at Alex, grabbing onto him with clammy, gray hands. And still he did nothing. Alex just stood there, looking into the sickly green eyes of the monster as it hissed and snarled.

Almost as if it were waiting for him to try and fling it off.

“You waiting for something?” Alex asked with a wry smile. “Go on.”

God, I really hope I’m right. It would be terribly embarrassing if this was how I died.

The Rotling bit down on Alex’s neck.