Adamant Blood

Mark found himself in a white room.

Addashield was a part of the room, and not quite. Addashield floated, cross-legged, and a flowing wind surrounded him, masking him to most sights, erasing him from sight and revealing him at the same time. It reminded Mark of looking at someone through a window with slatted blinds.

And then there was the goblin.

A young one that must have just been born from the corpse of some monster, for it was still covered in bloody mucus. It was still disoriented from its own teleport, too. It lay on the ground ahead, scrabbling to get to its feet, and it would soon rise to its feet and be ready to eat and spread.

Goblins were nasty beasts. If they attacked a weakened person, or if the goblin was strong, then the person would balloon with parasitic infection and then pop, spilling more goblins into the world. Even with that sort of power, they were on the low end of threats on Daihoon.

They couldn’t infect you in the Tutorial, though, but only because they were truly weak here in the Tutorial. They probably could infect a person just fine, even here in this space, but those that they infected never made it out.

Addashield’s voice spilled through the air like a hidden wind, “Kill it.”

Mark heard those words just fine, but the goblin gave no reaction.

Mark took a step forward, the shaking in his hands, the weakness of his steps, all fading. Nerves stilled. Mark knew what must be done.

Social interactions were tough. Battle? Battle was easy. Theoretically. Mark had never actually killed anything before. Cleaning fish to eat them did not count, and the False Tutorial only felt real. It wasn’t real, real. This was real, real.

The goblin jerked as it heard Mark’s footsteps.

Mark heard that older goblins could talk and interact with people in order to truly harm a settlement, or a city, but the young ones were feral monsters, just like the monster now rising before Mark.

It was about the size of a child and deeply green with lighter green stripes on its head and body. Big ears flicked this way and that, searching for other threats, but Mark was the only threat here, and its big red eyes focused on him. It blinked out the goop in its eyes, and then it screamed and ran at Mark, exactly like a monster.

Mark punted the beast into the far wall.

It had tried to grab onto his foot but it failed completely, its coordination little more than base instincts. The monster slammed into the white wall with a wet splat and a bounce. It struck the ground with no bounce at all, and it barely moved once on the ground.

Mark walked over and stomped on its head.

It was now one very dead goblin.

Blood and birthing mucus scattered as frail bones broke. The goblin died, and Mark stood solid upon what was left of it. And then the body began to ebb away. It was not like the hardlight, holographic constructions of the False Tutorial. This had been a real being. A real life. And now the Tutorial was unspooling its entire existence. Flesh became memory and color that flowed into the white floor, and then away. It had become pure mana. Prismatic mana.

Mark wasn’t wholly sure how life worked out past the Tutorial, but he was 18 years old, he watched popular movies and shows some of the time, and he had once been a kid in school right alongside everyone else. Curtain Protocol was real, with most people simply never talking about magic at all in order to keep their children safe, and able to choose their own magic paths in life, but Mark knew some things.

The Tutorial was, at its core, a preparation ritual.

The walker would enter the trial. The trial would gather small resources from wherever it gathered those resources; like plucking a freshly-spawned goblin from its birth and plopping it right here. In the killing or surpassing of those resources, the ritual would turn those resources into pure power. Completing the ritual would allow the walker to Awaken a Talent. Not a Knack or a Knowing, or any weak thing like that. But a true Talent, which some people called Powers.

Or the walker would die trying.

Mark’s pants remained bloody and his shoes covered in pink mucus, but the bones and body of the goblin were already gone, turned to mana to empower the ritual to come.

A door opened up on the side of the white room, and Mark strode forwa—

Addashield zipped through the opening first, saying, “Fool boy. I will scout for you. I told you this much.” Addashield went into the next room, looked around from his floating, half-invisible shell of a spell, and said, “Monster killing room. Two goblins. Spear and mace.”

Mark smiled a little bit and walked through the white arch, into the next room.

The room was about the same size as the previous one, maybe 5 meters by 5 meters. Same white stone, too, with light coming from everywhere. On the left and right were two goblins. Both of them looked older than the previous one. The left one had a spear that had clearly seen better days. The right one had a mace that looked freshly stolen from some poor low-knight, or something like that. Mark wanted the spear to be a good spear, but he wasn’t going to go after that weapon at all, not when the mace was in such a better condition.

Both goblins were also trapped in a stasis spell. It looked like ribbons of prismatic light, gently twisting around them, not actually touching them at all. Both goblins looked furious. Both were bleeding from wounds on their heads and other body parts.

And then the stasis spell broke and both goblins continued the roars that had been stuck in their mouths for however-long. They rushed forward, flinching a little as they realized something weird had happened. But then they saw Mark, and advanced maddeningly.

Mark was already aiming toward the mace goblin.

The thing about monsters is that they were always more dangerous than they looked. The mace goblin proved this instantly. His eyes went wide and then narrowed as he saw Mark coming his way. He was a smart kinda monster. He realized that he was being targeted, and he also saw the goblin on the other side of the room. Mace-goblin turned defensive.

Mark tried to reach the mace goblin, but mace-goblin backed up, running away.

Spear-goblin was a dumb shit, mindlessly running at Mark, roaring, spear gripped in both hands to run Mark through. That spear was not meant for his tiny body. He was half the size of that spear.

Mark thought he had been prepared for a life or death battle, but Mark found himself switching targets with some difficulty. He was absolutely sure that the mace-goblin would attack when the spear-goblin's attack failed. Mark adapted his stance.

With shoes solidly on the ground, Mark waited till the last moment to grab the spear goblin’s weapon. Hands on the shaft of rough-make wood, Mark pivoted, swinging the goblin’s spear outward, and the spear-goblin held onto his spear, not letting go, because spear-goblin was stupid.

Mace-boy launched forward the very second Mark was occupied, his mace aimed at Mark’s legs.

Mark twisted out of the path of mace-goblin, slamming spear-goblin onto top of mace-goblin. The mace went wide. Spear-goblin held onto his spear for dear life, like a cat clinging to a branch, even as he collided with mace-goblin.

Mark kicked the confused mace-goblin and the spear-goblin both, sending them away from the mace. They were adult goblins so they didn’t get sent far, but it was enough.

Mark dashed after the mace and grabbed it off of the ground.

Mace-goblin was standing over spear-goblin, hand on the spear, by the time Mark secured his new weapon. With a feral, hateful grin, mace-goblin pulled the spear out of spear-goblin’s body, and spear-goblin turned to motes of rainbow light. Mace-goblin had killed spear-goblin.

Mace-goblin was now ‘spear goblin’.

And Mark had a pretty good mace. It was a rod of solid metal, a forearm long with a tough leather handle. The ball at the end had some small metal spikes. This was more of a bashing weapon than a cutting weapon. Mark smiled. This was a good weapon.

The goblin smiled, too. He said something in a feral tone. Mark didn’t understand it, but it did freeze him in his tracks. A talking goblin? Ah. A really smart goblin, then.

He was taught not to care about what he might see in the Tutorial, but it still suddenly weighed on him that this was a real person in front of him—

“He didn’t actually say anything,” Addashield said. “He probably learned that making mouth noises caused people to hesitate. It’s a common tactic that is genetically bred into them through various environmental factors, because, as you see, it worked.”

The goblin made more mouth noises, upturning the last syllable to make it sound like a question.

“Ha!” Addashield said, “He’s a smart one. Probably born from a goblin implanting seeds into a human. Probably from one of the mountain tribes. Enemies to humanity. They mostly fight against others like themselves in the Tutorial. This is probably his last room. If he should kill you, he will Ascend. You’ll kill a lot of his kind in the future.”

The goblin walked forward while Addashield was talking, spear gripped lightly to the side, eyes focused on Mark, not on his weapon. He said small words that were not words. Mark was ready for the sudden lunge and spear thrust, whenever it would ha—

Eyes alight with desire, mouth moving, the goblin tightened his grip and thrust, digging his feet onto the stone at the same time. Mark knocked it aside with the mace. The goblin pulled back and then thrust forward again. Mark advanced inward, parrying the blow and then punching the goblin in the face with his other hand, with a fist. The goblin went down, but he turned that fall into a roll, keeping his spear at the ready.

Mark advanced, twice as big as the goblin, the mace giving him even more range. The goblin roared fury, stabbing and stabbing, none of his blows coming anywhere near hitting because Mark had range on him. A lot of range.

Mark swung at the spear with his mace and the shoddy thing broke, the metal tip flying wide. It wasn’t even a spear tip. It was just a hunk of metal wrapped with vine-twine around the end of a mostly-straight length of wood.

Now that his fingers wouldn’t get cut by grabbing the weapon, Mark did exactly that, grabbing the weapon. The goblin did not let go. He tried to fight. Mark brained the goblin before he could react fast enough to realize he should have let go of the spear. The goblin sprawled, insensate, its red eyes wandering slowly back and forth as it laid on its back, trying to understand what was happening.

Mark advanced.

Thud. Once more. Smack. Again. Crack.

The goblin died, though it had taken more effort than Mark would have expected. The little monster turned to ribbons of rainbow light that flowed into the white stone floor, and the light above.

Mark took a minute, his gorge rising. He breathed hard, pulling back from puking.

He maintained.

The archway to the next room beckoned. Addashield was already through to the other side.

Mark saw a river-like area beyond the archway. Mark walked into that next room and saw a rather standard location-based trial. He had even studied for this one. It was a river, two sandy banks, and a lot of scattered boulders here and there, both in the water and outside of the water, on the banks.

The river itself looked deceptively shallow, but it was deep enough and fast enough to sweep or sink Mark to his death. It was also a transference room.

The proper exit held on the other side of the river, far up the shore; an archway of white that was currently shut. If Mark got to the archway on the other bank then he’d go forward, but if he got swept away then he’d follow a different trial path. A longer one. If he drowned, then he was just dead.

There was probably a monster in the water, too, though not always.

The ‘room’ was understood.

What was completely outside of Mark’s expectations was the ‘room’ itself, and that’s what caused him to gasp a little.

Addashield watched Mark, his eyes peeking out from between the blinds of his invisibility spell.

The room was like the focused part of a much, much larger picture. That’s what Mark first thought. The river was 30-ish meters wide. 30 more meters of rocky, sandy riverbank sandwiched the rushing waters. The river itself was maybe 100 meters long. So a rough circle of space, centered on a river. An archway held behind Mark, though the door there was already closed, while another archway held on the other side of the river bank.

Beyond this space was an out-of-focus picture, becoming much, much more unfocused the further one looked. There was no actual wall. The river came into focus inside this space, and left focus when it left. About a hundred meters of river looked like normal waters.

Addashield said, “It’s a real place taken out of time and space and used for the Tutorial. The fading on the edges is a result of the unthreading of the space, taken for use here and now. It can be threaded back into position after you’re done with the trial. There’s a fish monster at the beginning of the river, so don’t try getting into the water there. Start in the middle if you plan to swim, and swim fast. I’ll let you know if the fish comes after you.”

Mark almost mumbled that of course there was a monster in the river.

Mark looked at the river and walked down to the very beginning of the rushing water. A set of boulders sat close to the beginning of the river section. The river was slower behind those boulders. So yeah. Something should be living down there. Mark couldn’t see it, but he did not doubt Addashield’s words.

Mark had some choices, then.

First off, he was swimming. No way around that.

So what to do with the mace? It was heavy. He could swim with it, and defend himself, or not do that, and go for speed. He wanted to keep his mace. Swimming or rock-hopping to a better place to start the swim with the mace was a bad idea, because the rocks by the shore were not plentiful enough to allow him to forgo swimming entirely. So he needed to throw it across the river and pick it up over there.

Easy enough. Decision made.

Mark went back to the middle of the river and then he gripped the mace in his hands… in one hand. Yes. A one-handed throw…

Ah.

It would be monumentally embarrassing if Mark missed the 30-ish meter throwing distance, so he didn’t just throw it across the river. He had plenty of shore on this side, though, so he did a few practice throws, and he was glad he did. 30 meters was a lot of distance to cover with a throw with a weapon he had never thrown before.

As the mace slapped into the ground, on his first practice throw, Addashield chuckled once.

“Good thing you practiced. That wouldn’t make it across at all.”

Mark almost wanted to banter with the guy, but he had been warned off of that. So Mark walked the 20-ish meters to the mace, picked it up, and tried again. His second throw was better. The mace sailed a good 35-ish meters before it plunked into the rocky riverbank. He grinned. That was plenty enough to clear the river—

Ah. Wait. His clothes.

Mark took off his long-sleeve shirt and tied it around the mace. He’d keep the pants and shoes and everything else.

He was pretty sure he could make it four boulders into the 30-meter wide stream, which meant he’d have 20-ish meters to swim, and the shirt would slow him down in the river too much, so he wasn’t going to wear it. With the shirt tied up around the head of the mace, Mark gave it another practice throw and found his distance acceptable.

Mark aimed his next throw across the river, took a running start that ended at the water’s edge, and flicked the mace as hard as he could. The weapon sailed, tumbling end over end, and crashed into the rocky shore a good several meters past the water’s edge. The shirt muffled the crack of steel against river rock. It was safe.

Now. Did all that noise wake the fish?

Mark went to the front of the river and looked at the calm space behind the rocks; the monster’s shelter.

Addashield said, “It woke up, yes, but it’s not getting out of its hiding hole for anything other than flesh.”

… Eh!

Mark surveyed the river once more. Except for at the very start where the rocks formed a shield for the monster in the center, the center of the river was empty of rocks. The sides had some boulders here and there, to about 5 meters out on both sides. Mark found some rocks that led out about seven meters, a little left of center.

And then he went rock hopping.

It was kinda fun, really. Hop onto one rock, then onto the next. And then he was staring at a good 23 meters of mostly open water. Since he was wearing shoes, pants, and an undershirt, he’d be slowed down a little, but it was a small price to pay in case the fish was a lot faster than Mark wanted him to be. He’d given up enough protection in support of speed by throwing his long shirt across the way, with the mace.

Mark breathed deep. The waters ahead were empty of rocks, while the river itself was clear, blue, and deep, with green grasses flowing in those depths. Visibility was great in this area; probably for the monster’s benefit.

Mark braced himself, and then he dove forward. The water was cold, but not terribly so.

He swam for it, swimming as fast as he possibly could, arms wheeling, feet kicking, not bothering to take another breath because the fish was probably right there behind him. He scrambled fast, swimming forward but also going with the flow, but not too much, lest he fall out of the river zone. He swam in front of a boulder and kicked off of it to get across faster. Before he knew it he was hauling himself out of the water—

The water churned behind him, bright yellow fins the size of a shark’s slapping this way and that, turning the clear water into white water. Mark did not see the fish’s face, or maw. He didn’t have to. That fish was a fucking man eater.

Holy shit.

Mark’s heart beat hard.

Mark was already out of the river and back on dry land. The fish monster slapped at the shore, but Mark watched from far away.

He had ended up about 10 meters from the edge of the space, where all the world turned foggy and unclear and the river rolled on into a different path of the Tutorial, so he hiked back to the middle of the ‘room’ and grabbed his shirt-wrapped mace. As he walked, he calmed. He breathed deep.

Mark took off all his clothes and spent a minute wringing them out, before he put them back on, asking no one in particular, “What the fuck is with a fish like that in the fucking third damned room? My god. That cannot possibly be fair.”

Addashield snorted. “It mostly would have harried you enough to throw you down the edge of the river and out to another Tutorial path. It probably wouldn’t have been able to kill you. It’s just an overgrown leech. Teeth more like dull knuckles than sharp and useful.”

Mark shuddered anyway.

Dressed in damp clothes, Mark gripped his mace and began walking toward the archway, sitting between the clarity of this space and the unfocused rest of the world beyond. Mark saw some sort of arena on the other side.

Addashield was already through to the other side. “Oh! Looks like you’re skipping some rooms. This is a boss room already. The normal path was probably down the river.”

Mark flinched in his steps.

Ah.

So.

Hmm.

Mark kept walking forward, wondering about what other gear he could have gotten if he would have allowed himself to be chased down the river, but also thrilled that he could finish the Tutorial faster. No matter what could have been down that other path, he would have been bludgeoned by the fish and probably nibbled, and left bleeding. A wound taken early in the Tutorial could easily spell death later, for any number of reasons.

With sure steps, Mark entered an arena space about 20 meters across.

The floor was stone covered with a thin layer of sand. The arena walls did not exist, instead it was just stone stadium seats about 8 deep, that came all the way down to the sands. Sand was everywhere, really, even on the seating. The world beyond the stadium was unfocused, just like the river scene in the previous room. The archway to the previous room was gone.

There were no people or monsters here. Just sand.

Addashield said, “One enemy.”

Mark saw it quickly, even before Addashield got out the first word.

It was invisible.

The sand scattered here and there as some maybe-bipedal monster rushed forward from the other side of the arena. It was fast.

Mark kicked sand at it, briefly revealing a humanoid shape that sputtered and backtracked, kicking up sand as it flinched backward, to the side. That told Mark a few different things. It had eyes or other sensory organs that didn’t like sand getting in them, so it wasn’t an elemental. It also had something like two arms and two legs and a body. It might have an invisible weapon, but probably not. It probably wasn’t an overly smart monster, like the goblin had been; it had attacked instantly.

It was a monster that made itself invisible, or it was born that way, and it attacked directly.

There was also some sort of silence magic happening, because Mark couldn’t hear anything. He could barely hear the sound of sand moving as the creature retreated to the stadium seating, where stone rose above the sands and there was no way to spot the creature at all.

Addashield said, “I can’t tell you where it is when it’s actively hiding. If you know where it is then the god who runs these Tutorials will know I am here. I have a deal that allows me to be here, but he still doesn’t like it. He will invalidate your Tutorial. Don’t die.”

Mark wanted to argue over the ridiculousness of those two statements taken together; ‘I can be here’ and ‘He will invalidate your Tutorial’. He did not argue, though. He waited for the monster to do something—

Sand pitter-pattered behind him.

Mark turned, eyeing the sand—

There!

Mark waited until the monster was within 4 meters and kicked sand at the rapidly advancing footsteps—

A scream that was half a roar. The monster raced to the side.

Mark raced faster. He rushed and swiped his mace through the space where—

He hit something, but there was almost no resistance at all. A glancing blow.

The monster turned, its feet or whatever splashing sand this way and that.

Mark blindly chopped with his mace and this time he hit something hard. Something shattered, like glass, or like a bubble popping. A creature stood revealed, and yet Mark was even more confused than before. It was a skeleton-like thing, shaped fully like a human’s skeleton, but the bones were all wrong and there was some sort of mirage to the whole thing that hid it from sight, that tried to wrap around the skeleton again.

Mark bashed and bashed, and the skeleton tried to defend itself, to retreat, but Mark hit it harder. The skull was bone shards and the arms couldn’t move anymore, but it wasn’t until Mark broke the spine, behind the ribs, that some vital force died. The skeleton suddenly discombobulated, every bone scattering a little, as though tension had been released.

As the creature started to dissolve into rainbows, Mark caught sight of its lower jaw. That jaw had fangs. The upper jaw might have had fangs, too; it was already gone, so Mark couldn’t tell. Other than that the bones were all sorts of fucked up, like they were growing crystals or spurs, or some shit like that. The whole skeleton had some sort of orange slime mold on it, too.

Mark stared at the dissolving monster. “Was it trying to bite me? Was that a fucking… I know the name. Not a vampire. Something… Fuck. I forgot.”

Mark knew the monster. It was a slime variant. It crawled into skeletons and it puppeted them. Skeleton slime? Sure. That worked.

Addashield was already through the next door. “Looks like waves of monsters next! I bet you’re over halfway through~”

So that was a weird inflection in Addashield’s voice.

Mark followed Addashield into the next room, not quite sure about the archmage’s state of mind, for him to talk all like ~this~

It was a little disturbing.

It was fine.

Mark would save Addashield from his demon and then go on with his own life, into the broad, broad world beyond.