A sudden bright flash snapped him from his thoughts. A crackling bolt of lightning split across the sky, snapping and branching off in too many directions.
The glare of it magnified by the rain that continually pelted his windshield. Big, fat droplets that were quickly scraped away by his wiper blades only to be replaced by more.
He had to quickly blink away the spots that now flooded in his vision. A deafening roar followed almost instantly. He gritted his teeth, his heart pounding from the sound. It had struck close. So very close. Not even half a mile by his old counting trick.
“Well damn, that's not terrifying.” He muttered as he reached over and turned down his music lower. He was only a few miles from town now, but the storm had picked up drastically within the last mile.
He took a measured, controlled breath trying to turn his focus back to the road.
“I can do this.” He muttered trying to pep himself up. He had to just keep going. Taking it slow and steady.
He knew the road well enough as he traveled it every day to work and back, but this storm made it hardly recognizable. Ahead, not too far away, the road would curve. Now, it was barely visible through the curtain of rain.
With a light press on the brake, cautiously, he slowed down even further as he began to round the corner.
Another flash of light illuminated the interior of his car, lighting up his vision.
But this time, it was headlights. And they were barreling towards him.
His stomach lurched as he watched the car veer into his lane. It was coming at him way too fast. His heart skipped a beat, and panic shot through him.
On instinct, he slammed down on his horn and jerked the wheel hoping to avoid a direct collision. A horn blared, erupting into the night cutting through the storm, but it was already too late.
For just a single heartbeat, time seemed to stretch on. Suddenly, the world in front of him pitched sideways as he began to lose control. All traction lost into a hydroplaning drift, just barely out of the path of the oncoming car.
He threw the wheel in the other direction trying to regain some control as the car began to start its slow swing the other way, just as another set of headlights entered the blind curve.
Now, he was drifting right into oncoming traffic. Right toward the raised headlights. Another bright and sudden flash of lightning lit up the world around and his heart stopped. It was just enough for him to see the huge semi-truck. He was heading directly at it.
There was a sudden boom of thunder, followed by a heavy, bone jarring crash. It was the front of his car slamming into the oncoming truck at at least 40 miles per hour.
Terrified, he watched in slow motion as the glass surrounding him exploded in every direction, a storm of shrapnel glass, slick and wet from the torrential rain, sent them slashing into his face, his hands, any exposed bits of skin.
The forceful stop of motion caused the seatbelt to bite deeply into his shoulder, like a steel vice trying to clamp him into his seat.
He felt an eruption of pain as his wrists shattered, from the airbags exploding with such force outward. They were sent flying upwards as the airbags deployed right into his face and chest with a force that knocked all the air from his lungs. His nose broke and his ribs cracked, caved in by the impact, rupturing into his lungs and radiating throbbing pain throughout his chest.
His head snapped sideways, a sickening crunch of bone as his skull impacted with something hard. His mind grew fuzzy from the whiplash.
Suddenly, there was no up, no down, just a dizzying whirl of metal, glass, and noise. A thick acrid tang of burning rubber with a sharp hint of ozone assaulted his senses, coupled with the coppery tang of blood in his mouth.
Darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision.
‘Is… this… the end…’ He thought numbly. A calm detachment. Just an observer in his own demise.
It wasn’t even a question, he knew. It was the chilling realization that there was nothing he could do, no way out of this.
An abrupt stop jerked him as his wrecked car slammed violently into a tree. Branches and leaves cascaded down on to his car. Followed by a loud groaning snap.
Jace felt his car crush under the weight as the massive tree crashed into it. A large sheet of twisted metal from the crumpled roof found its way through his chest as it collapsed and lost what little feeling he had left in one arm.
He cast a bleary eyed glance downward, but had no reaction. The metal that had pierced deep into his ruined chest, had also severed his right arm just below the elbow.
A weight of sharp, searing pain erupted through him leaving no room for anything else. His ragged gasps slowly came to a halt. The air felt thick in his lungs as it started to mix with blood and fluids.
His heart pounded erratically, in his chest. Each beat, a desperate pulse to keep him tethered to this world. Butbeach became less powerful, less meaningful.
‘Oh… God, that's… not good.’ The words never escaped his lips, but they played out in his mind. There was no more breath his lungs could pull in. His vision blurred completely, the dark ring that hung in his periphery, now encompassed almost all of his vision.
‘Not… like this… there's… still… so…’
Everything slipped away. The heavy pelting rain, the creaking groan of the tree smashed into his wrecked car, even his pain.
Only a deathly silence remained, then, that too faded.
---
He came to, floating lazily in an endless void. The pain was gone. Actually, he wasn’t aware of his body at all. He was just... there. Everything was gone. It was as though everything he was—his existence, his thoughts—had simply ceased to matter.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
He couldn’t remember the sound of his heartbeat, nor the rhythm of his breath. There was no sensation of being alive. Just drifting along in the ether.
Then, without warning, a soft lilting voice broke the silence. It was smooth like honey, yet carried the weight of something ancient and powerful, something significant. It filled the empty void around him, reverberating through the emptiness like a ripple in still water.
"Hmm…” the melodic voice cooed at him. “Still so small. So many broken pieces. The voice paused l, as he urged for it to continue. “Yet, the threads of fate are such a malleable thing.” There was a slight humor hidden in the musical voice.
But, the words didn’t make sense to him, yet they calmed him. He yearned for the harmonic melodies that seemed to follow the voice. They weren’t meant for him, right, or were they? He wasn’t even sure where he was—if he was.
“Hmm, I shall bestow to you a gift. A little something to aid in your travels. Something that will help bind the pieces back together.”
A sudden rush of sensations flooded his consciousness, warm and serene, cold and dark, newly born and ancient. It embedded into him, whatever he was.
He wanted to speak, to call out to the voice, but he had no means to.
He bathed in the warmth of it for as long as he could, wallowing in it until suddenly, awareness slammed into Jace like a tidal wave. His lungs burned as though he'd forgotten how to breathe, and a harsh breath ripped from his throat as his senses flickered to life.
But something was very wrong. His body felt distant, and yet, his essence, his soul, was being pulled—drawn somewhere far away. It was as though something inside him was being yanked against his will, his very being torn apart by a cold and relentless force.
Panic clawed at his mind. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was... rain. His car spinning out of control, the headlights blinding him as the world twisted and folded, the sharp screech of metal against metal.
His death.
The shattered pieces of him scattered far and wide.
But then came the pull harder. The voice was no longer resonating. Whatever presence he felt before was gone. Like a string of an instrument abruptly severed.
And then, like the snap of a whip, everything stopped and sudden reality came crashing before him.
---
Jace’s eyes snapped open. His lungs burned as they sucked in desperate gasps of air—air he hadn’t even realized he was missing. Phantom aches rolled through his body, dull and distant, like echoes of pain long past.
The first thing he saw when his vision cleared was the cold stone beneath him, its dark, ruined surface stained with dried fluids of unknown origin.
He lifted his head, disoriented, each movement making him dizzier. His breath came ragged as his eyes struggled to adjust to the dim, flickering greenish light.
“What…” It was all he could rasp before he inhaled the layer of dust, spitting the acrid taste from his mouth.
The odd-colored green torches lined the stone walls, their eerie glow casting elongated shadows that twisted and danced in the gloom. The stale rotting stench of death and decay stung his nose—thick, putrid, and heavy with the dampness of stagnant air.
His throat burned, his head throbbed, and nausea clawed at his gut, but none of it mattered as much as the one pressing question pounding in his skull.
‘Where the hell am I?’ His voice was harsh. He couldn't make sense of his surroundings. It didn't look like any hospital or morgue he'd ever seen, well maybe closer to a morgue.
Slowly, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees—his stomach lurched. A violent heave tore through him, spilling only bile onto the already-stained stone, followed by dry retches that wracked his body until his stomach finally settled. His stomach was void of contents and his abdominal muscles slowly stopped seizing.
He wiped his mouth and sat back on his heels, and waited for his body to stop spasming. He looked up, scanning the chamber in a daze. Tall, blackened pillars loomed around him, framing a massive archway lined with yellowed bones. The walls were an uneven patchwork of stone, ancient and worn—not from passage, but from the slow death of time.
It looked familiar. Too familiar.
An undercroft?
No… more like something he remembered from not too long ago. His stress relief. It looked like…
A dungeon.
The realization cut through the fog in his brain.
Before he could process it, blue letters covered his vision.
Error…
Unidentified soul Found…
New soul unregistered in the system…
Jace squinted at the strange message, trying to make sense of the words. his head still felt so groggy. “Unregistered soul? I’m not dead… am I?”
Flashes of memory surfaced. A car crash. Blinding pain. Floating weightless in a void. A voice—sweet, harmonic, soothing. Then… the cold, hard stone.
The message continued, heedless of his confusion.
Welcome, Paragon.
Please register…
Jace’s breath hitched.
“Paragon?” The word felt wrong in his mouth, like it wasn’t meant for him. “What the H-”
Before he could think further, another prompt appeared.
Please select Race…
Error…
Race already received…
Jace frowned. Already received? What the hell did that mean? Had someone assigned him a race before he even had a choice?
His mind drifted back to the void—the strange, melodic voice. Even now, the memory of it clung to him like a half-remembered dream. Was this all tied to that?
More text flickered to life.
Please select Class…
Error…
Class already selected.
Jace stiffened. “Wait—Class? I didn’t get to pick a class either!” He felt his stomach roll again as the words left his mouth and he clenched it back.
A creeping unease settled in his gut. This wasn’t like any game he’d ever played, though. This was…real? It felt real. It looked real. The contents of his stomach splayed beneath him looked real.
He wasn't just creating a character. That, it seemed, was already chosen for him, but why, for what purpose. What was going on? Where was he?
Compiling soul…
A sudden twinge rippled through him, like something deep inside had shifted—an unfamiliar pulse of power stirred beneath his skin.
And then, the final message appeared.
Complete…
Displaying Personal Character Sheet.
Name: Jace Halloway
Race: Soulborne (Unique)
Class: Soulreaver (Unregistered)
Level: Error, current class unable to gain experience
Health: 120/120
Stamina: 63/63
Mana: 89/89
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 8
Endurance: 11
Intelligence: 9
Wisdom: 8
Jace’s pulse thundered in his ears and his hands shook as he studied the rest of the sheet. A leveling system he couldn't use, apparently. At least he had access to stats, but if he couldn’t gain experience then what did that leave him with? The ominous title of his race and class.
None of it felt surprising anymore, but something about his numbers stood out. His Endurance was high, which made sense—he’d spent years in construction, lifting, building, hauling. His Strength wasn’t bad either. Probably attributed to the same lifestyle.
But his Dexterity? ‘Higher than I expected…’
Maybe all that work in tight spaces, balancing loads, and climbing scaffolding had honed his reflexes more than he thought.
But before he could dwell on it, another notification appeared.
Boons granted!
Titles: Paragon of %#^$@
Error with title.
ERROR: Restricted title ‘Paragon of %#^$@’ cannot be displayed properly.
Jace scowled. “Boons? And why the hell is my title restricted? Why is this system so glitchy?”
It seemed everything gave him no answers. Just more questions.
But the system wasn’t finished.
Survive the Hallows.
Jace swallowed hard. The room suddenly felt a whole lot colder.
Survive.
Not escape.
Not explore.
Survive.
His fingers curled into fists as he pushed himself to his feet, his legs still shaky but holding firm. His stomach no longer in knots despite the new developments.
“Whatever this is… whatever happened to me… I’m not dying here.”
A sound caught in his ear.
A groan.
Low, gurgling, hungry.
Jace turned toward it, his breath hitching as it caught sight of its source.
