[ Current Location: Mike Wheeler's Basement ]
[ Time: 8:14 PM ]
"Something is coming..." Mike whispered, leaning over the table, his eyes wide behind the Dungeon Master screen. "Something hungry for blood."
I sat on the beanbag chair, my legs cramping. We had been here for ten hours. Ten. Hours.
My bladder was full. My butt was numb. And I was pretty sure I had consumed enough Coca-Cola to kill a small horse.
'Okay, Vivan. Stay focused. This is the moment. The canon event.'
"A shadow grows on the wall behind you," Mike continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic hush. "Swallowing you in darkness. It is almost here..."
Will, Lucas, and Dustin were hanging on his every word. I was hanging on to my sanity.
"What is it?" Will whispered, trembling.
"It is..." Mike slammed a heavy lead figure onto the board. "The Demogorgon!"
The boys screamed. I flinched, mostly because Mike spat a little when he shouted.
'The irony,' I thought, rubbing my temples. 'We're playing a game about a monster right before the real one shows up to ruin our lives. Great foreshadowing, universe. 10/10 writing.'
"We're in deep shit!" Dustin yelled.
"Will, your action!" Mike shouted.
"I... I cast Fireball!" Will yelled, grabbing the dice.
"You need a thirteen or higher!" Lucas screamed.
Will shook the dice. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. But I wasn't looking at the dice. I was looking at the blue screen floating next to Mike's head.
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): Useless.
Esdeath: Prey.
Boa Hancock: Ugly (probably).
'Okay, calm down, Vivan. You are a sophisticated soul. You can handle being cyberbullied by a fictional dominatrix and an architectural scam artist.'
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to figure out how to stop broadcasting my internal panic.
'System? Mute? Settings? How do I stop the thought-typing?'
[ System Notice: Thought Transmission acts on "Intent". To speak, focus your will on the chat. To think privately, do not intent it. You can also turn it off and chat manually. ]
I tested it. 'Optimus Prime is a glorified toaster.'
The chat remained silent.
'Success.'
"Seven!" Will groaned. "I rolled a seven!"
"The Demogorgon got me!" Will slumped back in his chair.
"MIKE!" Mrs. Wheeler's voice boomed from the top of the stairs. "It is a school night! Wrap it up!"
The spell broke. The boys groaned, gathering their things.
My stomach did a backflip. This is it. We were leaving.
I stood up, grabbing my jacket. My hands were trembling slightly. I needed something. Anything. I couldn't go out there with just a d20 dice and a bad attitude.
'Lloyd. I need Lloyd.'
I focused my intent on the chat while pretending to look for my shoes.
Vivan Frostwell: @Lloyd Frontera (Admin) You said you sell things.
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): Oh? The broke newbie speaks. Did you find a penny under the couch cushions?
Vivan Frostwell: I need a weapon. Now.
Esdeath: Oh? Is the little prey in danger?
Ryomen Sukuna: Boring. Die entertainingly.
Vivan Frostwell: @Lloyd Frontera (Admin) I don't have points. But I have knowledge. I know things about... engineering. Future engineering. Concepts you haven't seen.
I was bluffing. I knew how to restart a router and use ChatGPT. I wasn't an engineer. But Lloyd was a civil engineer/architect. He liked building things.
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): Future engineering? Hmm. Tempting. But unverified. The System says I can't be "harmed," which means you can't scam me. But I don't work on credit.
Vivan Frostwell: Look, I'm about to be attacked by an interdimensional monster. If I die, you lose a potential customer. Think of the long-term profit!
Sosuke Aizen: Manipulating based on potential future value. Crude, but effective on the greedy.
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): ...You have a point. A dead customer pays no fees. Fine. I have a "Beginner's Shovel" from my early days. It's +5 Durability and has a "Smack" enchantment.
Vivan Frostwell: I'll take it!
Lloyd Frontera (Admin): It's a loan. 50% interest. Payable in 3 days. Or I repo your kidney. (System enforced).
Vivan Frostwell: DEAL!
[ System Alert: "Lloyd's Trusty Shovel" has been transferred to Inventory. ]
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. A shovel. I had a shovel. It wasn't a lightsaber, but it was better than a math book.
"Vivan?" Will asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "You okay? You look pale."
"Just... the pizza," I lied, forcing a smile. "Too much pepperoni."
We walked up the stairs and out the garage door. The night air hit us like a slap. It was cold, November cold. The kind that seeps into your bones. The streetlights buzzed overhead.
"See you guys tomorrow!" Dustin yelled, taking off down the street.
"Don't let the Demogorgon get you!" Lucas shouted, turning left.
"Peace!" Mike waved from the driveway.
That left two of us. Me and Will. We lived in the same direction—past Mirkwood.
We pedaled in silence for a while. The only sound was the whir of our bike chains and the crunch of dead leaves. The darkness seemed to press in on us. The trees towered overhead, blocking out the moon.
Mirkwood.
"It's really dark tonight," Will said, his voice small.
"Yeah," I croaked. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Flicker.
The headlight on Will's bike blinked.
My stomach dropped.
Flicker. Buzz.
Then, the streetlamp above us sizzled and went dark.
'Here we go.'
"Did you see that?" Will whispered, braking.
"Will, don't stop," I hissed, pulling up beside him. "Keep riding. Fast."
"But—"
"RIDE!"
I slammed my foot on the pedal. Will, startled, followed suit. We tore down the road, tires crunching on gravel.
The air grew heavy. Static electricity prickled the back of my neck. The silence of the woods wasn't empty; it was waiting.
Then I heard it.
A wet, guttural growl.
It didn't come from the woods. It came from everywhere.
Will screamed.
Ahead of us, in the middle of the road, a shadow detached itself from the darkness.
It was tall. Lanky. Humanoid, but wrong. Its limbs were too long, its skin pale and slimy looking in the moonlight. It had no face.
Will slammed his brakes. His bike skidded. He went flying over the handlebars, tumbling into the ditch.
"Will!"
I screeched to a halt, my sneakers tearing up the asphalt. The creature—the Demogorgon—turned its head toward Will.
It opened its face.
Petals of flesh peeled back, revealing rows of needle-teeth. It roared, a sound that vibrated in my bone marrow.
'Run. Run, you idiot. You're not the main character. You're the NPC.'
My legs wanted to pedal. My brain screamed at me to turn around and leave Will Byers to his fate. That was the plot. That was how it was supposed to go.
But then I saw Will's face. He was scrambling backward in the dirt, terrified, freezing up.
'Damn it. Damn it all to hell.'
I jumped off my bike.
"Hey!" I screamed, my voice cracking humiliatingly high. "Hey, you overgrown salad!"
The Demogorgon paused. It turned its flower-face toward me.
[ System Alert: Hostility Detected. Enemy Level: Mid ]
I reached into empty air.
'Inventory: Equip Shovel!'
Weight materialized in my hands. A rusted, dirt-stained shovel with a wooden handle that looked like it had seen better centuries.
The Demogorgon took a step toward me. It was huge. Seven feet tall easily. It smelled like rot and sulfur.
I held the shovel like a baseball bat, my knees knocking together so hard it was audible.
"Stay away from him!" I yelled, though it sounded more like a plea.
The monster roared again and lunged.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just swung Lloyd's rusty shovel with every ounce of hysterical strength I possessed.
CLANG!
The metal blade connected with the side of the Demogorgon's open face.
To my absolute shock, the monster's head snapped to the side. It stumbled, letting out a confused screech.
[ Critical Hit! (Weapon Bonus: "Bitch Slap" Effect Applied) ]
'Wait... it actually worked?'
I stared at the shovel.
The Demogorgon shook its head, slime flying everywhere. It looked back at me. And this time, it looked pissed.
"Uh oh," I whispered.
"Vivan?" Will whimpered from the ditch.
"Run, Will!" I shouted, backing up, holding the shovel out like a cross against a vampire. "Go home! Run!"
Will scrambled up, grabbing his bike, looking between me and the monster.
"GO!"
Will turned and pedaled, disappearing into the dark toward his house.
I was alone.
Just me, a shovel, and a monster that could rip through concrete.
The Demogorgon growled low in its chest, stepping closer. It ignored Will. It wanted the idiot with the gardening tool.
'Okay, Lloyd,' I thought, my hands sweating profusely. 'Does this thing come with a refund policy?'
The monster crouched, ready to spring.
I braced myself, raising the shovel.
'Come on then, you ugly bastard. Let's see who breaks first. My shovel, or my spine.'
The world seemed to slow down.
And a notification pinged.
[ New Quest: Survive the Night. ][ Reward: 10 Points. ][ Failure Penalty: You die (again). ]
"I hate this game," I muttered, and swung.
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