Soulweaver 1: Just ‘Another’ Day

NOTE: Welcome to the start of my story! I've been working on this for about half a year, along with 3 others who've invested hundreds of hours of their lives into it. I'm incredibly excited, and hope you will be too! I am releasing these chapters a week and a half before they hit RR, so if you have any feedback at all, please please please leave comments! Seriously. I really want your feedback, good and bad (but keep it constructive :-P )

Synopsis:

What do you do when the god who summons you won’t say why?

Greg walked into a bar hoping to wash away the sour taste of a bad day at work. What he got instead was a god offering him the opportunity of his dreams—with a catch. A ticket to choose among classes that could make him the strongest being alive. If only he could pay the price.

Thrust into a world he knows nothing about, Greg will need power on another level entirely. The kind of power only gods possess. The kind that empowers anything he touches.

After all, everything is a resource when they can level.

^The last line is still a WIP

- - - - -

Today was not a good day. It was the kind of day where you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and everything just seems to snowball after that. The kind that called for a stiff drink.

Granted, it didn’t take a special occasion for my manager to chew me out, but today was worse than most. Turned out he didn’t appreciate me messing with our inventory management system very much—should’ve known a control freak like him would give me shit for that.

I work at one of those retro gaming places. The kind that services the dinosaurs who insist on physical media in a digital age.

Anyway, my improvements would’ve used seasonal sales data to determine exactly what games to stock when. Even the intern admitted how much better of a system it was.

And it worked! I made things better. But what did I get for my effort? A tirade about how it wasn’t my job and that I just needed to smile and sell and not meddle with shit above my paygrade.

Uh, huh. Well, screw you too.

Optimizing was in my blood. I had a lot of pointless records in games to prove it. Speedrunning, impossible challenges, you name it.

Turned out none of those were very marketable skills. Who would’ve figured?

So, yeah. It was that sort of day and the average bar just wouldn’t do. I needed a new place. Somewhere no one would know me. Some place I could be alone.

An hour of aimless wandering later, my aching legs brought me to this hole in the wall—a place called Cosmo’s B & G.

Absolutely horrible for a bar. On point for an eighties disco hall. Exactly the kind of place I was looking for.

The bar was on the corner of a street, right in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Even before I entered, I could tell it’d be a total dive. Grungy, dark, and with shitty new age playing in the background.

Bells chimed as the door shut behind me, and I noted that the establishment wasn’t as deserted as I thought it’d be. Mostly men in their thirties, forties, and fifties. A couple of girls, but none my age.

I took a seat at the counter and relaxed in its fluffy cushion, happy to finally be off my feet.

“Hail friend! You’re right on time!” the overly jovial bartender said.

“Didn’t realize I was expected,” I said sarcastically.

The white-haired bartender replied with a wry smile. His eerie gray eyes regarded me with an almost predatory intensity, and his hair was greased to hell and back—dracula style. Except white, instead of the vampiric black.

I didn’t mean to stare, but the guy was… different, and not just because of the eyes and the hair. His brilliantly white, crisp suit was so clean it nearly glowed.

Now, I’ve seen a lot of bartenders. Some, at the fancier joints, liked to wear tux vests—more like their bosses forced them to—but I’d never seen anyone wear a jacket before. Especially not a white one, and definitely not at a dive bar.

“There an event going on or something?” I asked, wondering if it was 80’s night or something. None of the patrons wore anything even remotely from that decade, though.

The bartender nodded in understanding. “There sure isn’t! I’m Cosmo, by the way. Welcome to my humble establishment! It’s not much, but you gotta admit, it sure is cosmic, am I right?” he said, winking theatrically.

Ah. An eccentric. That was likely his normal outfit, too.

“Nevermind,” I said, plopping my driver’s license on the pristine counter. “Just get me a beer.”

Cosmo stared back at me, making no motion to grab my drink. “A beer. You’re serious?”

“Uh, yes? Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a bartender question my choice of drink before…” I said somewhat irritably. It wasn’t like I was asking for milk.

“You came all this way… for a beer? Greg, you don’t want a beer,” Cosmo said, shaking his head. “You need something stronger.”

I frowned, fingers still on the license I’d snapped onto the counter. “How do you know my name?”

Cosmo, as he called himself, cocked a brow. “Doesn’t take a mind reader to know you’ve had a hard day, Greg. Work a month or two behind a bar, and you’ll get just as good skimming licenses, I promise.”

I had laid it down. But Cosmo’s gray eyes had been boring holes into my head this entire time.

“Y’know what? Forget it,” I said. He was right. If anything, it proved just how stressed I really was. “Pour me something. Anything.”

“You got it, boss.”

I looked around the establishment while I waited. There were a couple of guys at the counter a few stools down. A half dozen more were seated at the booths along the back wall. chatting. An ancient jukebox sat on the back wall, along with a pinball machine. ‘The One to End Them All’, it was called. Its art featured a young guy in fancy armor standing on a pile of dead monsters, wielding a sword and shouting up at the sky.

Overall, the place had a cozy warm vibe and smelled of pine. You’d think the low ceiling and dull lighting would make for a dour setting, but they didn’t.

The tables were all wooden—real wood, not the particle board junk you find everywhere. The chairs, too. Not fancy, but solid wood, well built. Beautiful in a simple way. The bartop had to be the most spotless, shiny slab of black walnut I’d ever seen.

In fact, after looking around, I realized I couldn’t spot even a speck of dirt anywhere. Not on the floor, nor on any of the tables or chairs.

The drink came sliding over. A whisky. Single malt. Expensive-looking, too.

“On the house,” Cosmo said with a wink.

Well, I wasn’t much of a whisky guy, but damned if I’d pass up a free drink! I felt a little bad for judging him so harshly now.

The alcohol started working its magic, and I sank blissfully into the warm embrace of self pity. Who cared what Brian thought? My improvements worked, dammit, and that was all that mattered. Why didn’t anyone understand that?

For the thousandth time, I wondered what I was doing with my life. Was a shit nine to five job that barely paid the bills all I had to look forward to? No adventure, no sense of achievement?

I wasn’t asking for much. Just a chance to put the skills I knew I had to good use. To give my all for something real.

“You remember that guy I was telling you about?”

The bartender—Cosmo—was leaning over his counter, animatedly chatting up a patron. A big bearded guy with a leather jacket. A biker, most likely. I bet he rode a Harley.

“He’s perfect. I’m telling you, he’s the one!”

“Uh, huh,” the biker gruffed back. “What’ll it be this time, a rock? You do realize that thing is still out there, getting stronger by the day, right?”

“What, that old thing?” Cosmo said. “Naw, that won’t harm a soul. Anyway, get this. High school dropout. Twenty-two years old and hasn’t held a stable job even once. Just bounces around. No real friends. Not unless you count everyone he meets at the bar, and let’s face it. Most of them are so shitfaced they don’t even know his name.”

I wished they’d keep it down. I just wanted to drink in peace.

“Yeah? What about their family?” the biker asked. “Wasn’t that your holdup with this idea?”

“Ah, his dad’s a deadbeat. Kid practically hates him. Mother died young. Big sister is, well… Let’s go with estranged. And his high school buddies all went off to college. Trust me. He’s got nothing. No hope. No future. He’s as good as it gets.”

Now that I could relate to. But that just showed how ordinary my life was, didn’t it? Stories like mine were a dime a dozen, even down to the details. Nothing special at all.

“I dunno, Cosmo. You’re talking about a real person here. This is different. This… isn’t like you. What’s your angle? You really think he’s got what it takes?”

“Hey, even I need my entertainment sometimes! Besides, have you seen the records he’s set? Speedrunning games, beating them with ridiculous handicaps? That’s gotta be tough enough. Hey, you wanna know something truly hilarious? The poor sod’s gonna walk into that game shop tomorrow and learn he’d just been fired. He really oughta be getting a raise, but he did it without permission. So… yeah. Intern’s gonna get his job instead.”

My hand froze, drink halfway to my lips. I set the glass down heavily with a clink. My hand… was shaking.

What the hell? One or two coincidences, I could believe, but this? What were the chances?

Cosmo just described my exact day. Play by play. This was too weird. How much alcohol was in this thing?

A voice in my head warned me of danger. That it’d be best to leave. It was a small voice, though, and the instinct to have more of this delicious whisky prevailed.

I admit I may not have been thinking entirely straight. Feeling a sudden compulsion to stand, I got up and made my way to the pinball machine.

Setting my glass down on the machine, I rummaged through my pockets before realizing I didn’t have any coins. A shame—the game looked to be on the more interesting side, as far as pinball machines went.

“Mind lifting your glass for me?” Cosmo said, suddenly standing beside me.

When did he walk over? I never even noticed. Shit… am I really that buzzed?

“Er, sorry?” I said.

“Your glass. Mind lifting it?”

“Uh, okay?” I said, thrown off balance.

I lifted my glass off the machine, and Cosmo neatly swept away the condensation that had built up under it, placing a cork coaster under the drink.

“Sorry,” Cosmo said. “Old habit. So, how’d you like a new life?”

The transition in his words was so sudden that I just stared blankly.

“What?” was all I managed, setting the glass back down. My other hand instinctively clutched the machine.

“A new life! Y’know, better than the shitty one you’ve got?”

The hell was going on? Had he really been talking about me earlier? Was this some elaborate prank?

I blinked, and suddenly, the whole bar went quiet. The white noise of chattering people had vanished and the guys seated at the bar were gone.

No. I spun around, taking the whole place in. Everyone was gone. The bar was deserted. Empty. And all in an instant.

What in the actual fuck?

I hadn’t heard a single person leave. The chimes on the door never rang. No sounds of shuffling  chairs or glasses being put down.

“Who are you?” I asked, panic piercing through the haze of my buzz. I instinctively gripped the side of the machine like it was a lifeline, too shocked to even think about moving. “What’s going on here?”

“I mean, how many people do you know who can do all the stuff I did?” he asked mockingly.

I didn’t reply.

“I’m a god. Thought that was obvious.”

“R-Right. And I’m Merlin, master wizard.” I retorted, glancing at the door.

Cosmo looked at me with an expression of such utter confusion, he either had to be the world’s best actor, or he genuinely didn’t get it. Which only made the situation weirder.

“But… I made everyone disappear—wait.” His eyes widened. “You’re one of those people, aren’t you? I admit I read about this in your world, but meeting one in person… Wow. Yeah. This is awkward. You really think this is a hoax, don’t you?”

I backed away from the machine, finally breaking through my freeze response.

This was really happening. This guy was going to kill me.

I’d known such things happen, of course. It was a rough world, after all. I just never thought it’d happen to me.

“You can have my wallet,” I said, reaching slowly into my back pocket and throwing my wallet at Cosmo’s feet. “Not much in there, but it’s yours.”

The bartender looked at the leather wallet like it was from another planet.

“I… really don’t know where you’re going with this, Greg. I’m not going to rob you.”

Shit. It was worse.

“You picked the wrong guy to kidnap, you know? My dad doesn’t have the money. Wouldn’t pay out even if he did. You’re wasting your time. Just… just let me go.”

“What if I said I could send you to the world of those games you always play? The ones with the levels and classes and magic that you humans are so fond of.”

Alright. Yeah. He’s crazy.

The knowledge made it easier to accept the situation.

I took a deep breath. It’d been some years since track and field in high school, and I sure as hell hadn’t maintained my runner’s legs, but I knew the moves. Cosmo was still leaning on the pinball machine. I’d been edging to the door. I knew I could make it to the door in time.

You got this, Greg.

“Alright, why don’t we—” I bolted for the door.

Ten feet. Five.

I didn’t bother to glance back at Cosmo, or see what he was up to. He couldn’t stop me now. This was the home stretch.

My hand closed around the tarnished brass knob. It turned easily—not locked. How could it be? All those people had just used it to leave, after all.

I had this. Once I was out into the street, I could lose this guy. I was sure of it.

The door opened, and a hurricane blasted the room.

A great vortex pulled at me, and it took all I had to stop myself from getting sucked in.

Because on the other side wasn’t a residential street. It wasn’t a street at all.

It was the inky blackness of space. Outer space. I could’ve sworn I saw the faint outline of a galaxy in the distance.

Napkins and silverware all blew into the air, rushing for the door. Even the chairs.

It was one of those fine wooden chairs that sent me sailing over the edge.

I gasped for breath and immediately began to suffocate. My arms and legs flailed, but there was nothing to grab onto.

“Well, I thought you might want to chat at the bar, but we can talk here, too, if you like,” Cosmo said, appearing in front of me.

Had I been in a more coherent frame of mind, I might’ve questioned how he could talk in the vacuum of space. As it was, I just heaved helplessly in front of him.

“Ah, right. You need air to talk. Actually, you’re gonna die pretty soon, so I think I’ll just send us back.”

Cosmo snapped his fingers, and I was suddenly back inside the bar.

My legs promptly turned into Jello and I flopped to the ground like a wet noodle, gasping for air.

Cosmo hardly noticed. He was staring forlornly at his bar.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’ll be to clean all this up?

“W-what-wha—” I blurted, hyperventilating.

Cosmo snapped his fingers, and I suddenly reappeared at the bar top, seated comfortably.

“Right,” he said. “So, I’m a god. Like I said. Believe me now?”

“Uh-uhhh—” Instead of words, only gibberish came out of my mouth.

“Don’t worry, Greg! You’re safe. God’s honor,” he said, halfassing a salute.

“I’m sure this has all been a bit strange for you. So why don’t we chat about something you are familiar with. Class selection.”

I stared at Cosmo blankly, my brain denying this reality.

Even so, a small voice at the back of my mind perked up in excitement. Class selection?

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