Five minutes later, my first microwaved sip of last night’s, left over coffee had burned away the fog in my brain. The sharp, bitter scent still curled around the edges of my mug like steam off a freshly doused campfire.

  Sitting at the kitchen table; the hard edge pressing into my arms as I leaned forward. The notepad sat open in front of me, pencil scribblings scattered across multiple pages in no particular order. In the background, the muted hum of CNN filled the room, the newscaster’s voice a steady drone as I made my choices. I’d turned on the TV on my way to coffee to find out what was happening.

  The system apocalypse was almost the only news they talked about. The crawl at the bottom of the screen kept updating the death toll. I mostly tried to not look back at it.

  No one knew how long we had before the next wave of chaos hit. Hours? Minutes? If I had a week or two to learn the system, I knew I’d do a better job. I didn’t have that much time.

  My only certainty was that I had to min-max this character build like my life depended on it...because, well, it probably did. If the real world was going full GameLit, then every misstep could be fatal. This wasn’t a power fantasy. This was survival.

  The base STATs were familiar terrain: INTELLIGENCE, WISDOM, EGO, CHARISMA, STRENGTH, DEXTERITY, and PSYCHIC. Each felt like a decision carved in stone. The system had MANA and PSYCHIC POWER POOLS. Two flavors of magical fuel, similar but not the same. Only MANA spells could be overloaded. That could punch through defenses, and hit like a truck when you needed it most. Costly, though. Push too hard, and you’d drain yourself dry in a single spell.

  “High risk, high reward,” I murmured, fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop. I could already see the newbies; the one-stat wonders with everything dumped into STRENGTH or INTELLIGENCE, thinking they’d wreck everything. They’d be corpses before the day was out. I’d seen it a hundred times in MMOs. People either spread too thin or too deep. You had to find the sweet spot.

  Everyone started with five points per STAT and fifty to distribute. Mages got bonus points in INTELLIGENCE, WISDOM, and EGO; ten, five, and two. Mentalists gave bonuses to PSYCHIC, EGO, and INTELLIGENCE; seven, three, and one with the tax. That meant INTELLIGENCE stacked fast and CHARISMA helped some Mentalist spells. Free INTELLIGENCE stat points.

  Second, I skimmed the race options. Classic fantasy lineup. Humans were the jack-of-all trades. +2 to all STATs, and a +1 sword bonus. It was solid, nothing flashy. Mages got a +1 DAMAGE for daggers, too. Non-humans came with trade-offs: better perks, worse drawbacks. I stuck with being human. Predictable, adaptable. Sometimes, the baseline was the best line.

  Then came Professions. They gave extra bonuses for stuff you already knew. Armor making? Sure. Enchanting? Oh, hell yes. That one snowballed hard. INTELLIGENCE and EGO climbed by five points to start. A point for each level. EGO seemed tied to magic creation, so that synergy was sweet.

  Enchantments help you to stay alive. They were money, power, and defense, all wrapped into one glowing package. First thing on my Enchanting to-do list: MANA BATTERIES. Like magical Red Bulls for your soul. I’d stockpile them. It can give you the edge needed to survive. And it added a flat five points each to INTELLIGENCE and EGO for taking it. EGO seemed to help lots of things.

  Run out of MANA in a fight, and you’re a corpse in fancy robes. At higher skill levels I could store spells as enchantments, so if I get there, I’ll be a casting badass. The trick was surviving to get there.

  Taking a break, I refilled my coffee and scrounged some refrigerated leftovers to heat and eat.

  With the base done, I picked my starting spells. Five spell levels to use. DETECT MANA was a gimme. So was MANA BOLT and MANA SHIELD. That was three. I threw another point into MANA BOLT...more punch, more bang. Then DETECT MAGIC from the general list. If I saw something weird, I wanted to know what it was and what it could do before it blew up in my face.

  For my MENTALIST spells, I went with PSYCHIC BOLT, PSYCHIC SHIELD, and MIND CONTROL. The last one felt dirty in the best possible way. Five minutes of control over a Level One creature? Hell yes. It scaled with levels, too. One day, I could turn armies. But right now? I’d settle for a meat shield.

  Last was a general spell anyone could take, REVEAL STATS, another general spell. Basic info on any living thing with STATs. Know your enemies and your friends.

  Looking at my scribbles on the sheet, I hesitated for just a moment, then took a deep breath, crossed my fingers, changed the numbers and information on the interface, and locked it all in.

  That’s when the world exploded.

  A flash of golden light erupted around me...blinding, metallic smelling. My ears rang for a moment. Then a golden banner that gave off sparks appeared in the air, suspended like divine graffiti.

  Then everything changed and it added:

  Shocked, I stared at the numbers. My hands trembled, the mug rattling on the table. I shook like I’d just grabbed an electric wire.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “They knew,” I whispered. “They’re watching.”

  All that didn’t include the points I gained for the five additional levels I just got.

  This wasn’t overpowered, not really. Certainly not god-mode. But it was enough. Enough to survive. Maybe even thrive, at least for a while.

  Looking at my STATs and spell lists again; I saw details that weren’t there before. I also saw how some spells worked together and the whole damn thing wasn’t linear. I felt I was right. You couldn’t be a one STAT wonder and do well in the Game. It forced you to be more rounded. You could have a hundred Strength, but if you couldn't hit something, you couldn’t hurt it. If you ran out of MANA, you were useless until it regenerated.

  OK. I wasn’t a god or even that overpowered, but I could probably survive now. But it was enough. Enough to survive. Maybe even thrive.

  As I kept looking, more new details emerged on the interface. Hidden layers. Interactions between spells and stats that weren’t linear and weren’t obvious. The system rewarded strategy.

  It was a system built for well-rounded survivors. Or High-powered heroes or villains if you lasted long enough.

  Which did I want to be?

  I shook off the thought, because that way, madness lies. I knew I didn’t want to die. That was my only obvious goal.

  Did I want to be one of the world’s great heroes? Or villains? I usually played a neutral character with a heavy side of good. Mages swung both ways when it comes to good and evil. The lust for pure power often pushes you to the evil side, and that also makes you a bigger target.

  That thought gave me a bad feeling. What if this was a system that helped you along whatever path you took? The more you did something, the more it pulled you in that direction. Shaking my head helped clear my thoughts. I could go down that rabbit hole forever. If I was going to level up and save people besides myself, I had to get my ass moving.

  Now I had five more points from the level-up. I looked at the patterns I’d seen earlier...divisible by 2s and 5s usually meant a boost. I scattered four points to round out some key stats and saved the last one for when I saw what I needed most.

  Then I dropped into my next Mentalist levels.

  PACIFY was first. It dampened aggression and made MIND CONTROL more effective. PSYCHIC SHIELD got another point. There was no way I was going to be mind-whammied by some amateur telepath.

  Then, I added PERSUADE, for the diplomatic route. It did subtle nudges without full control. Last was IDENTIFY MAGIC, so I could know what a magical object actually did, not just that it was magical.

  With a deep breath, I exhaled. Character creation: complete.

  Against Level Ones, I was overpowered.

  “Loaded for…mouse. Maybe bunny rabbit,” I muttered, half a grin tugging at my lips. I needed gear. Weapons. Armor. You don’t win wars with spells alone...especially when MANA runs out faster than you’d ever want.

  Obviously, I needed weapons and armor. What good is an adventurer without both? This was going to be easier for me than most people. As a Mage, I was locked into cloth armor. The old glass cannon problems. But I had an edge.

  I’ve been a long-time member of the SCA. Society for Creative Anachronism. Medieval combat, full kit, western martial arts.

  I may be a geek and nerd, but I’ve fought with swords, shields, axes and other hand to hand weapons. I’ve worn armor in summer heat, taken hits, given them too. Been there, done that, had lots of fun and more bruises than I want to remember.

  While I wasn’t the best, I wasn’t a poser either. A few years before the accident, I switched to rapier. Think Three Musketeers without the muskets. I wasn’t the best at swishing and poking, but I knew more than which end of the sword to hold, and which end to poke into the other guy, or gal.

  It’s light, fast, precise. Less bone-rattling. And I hoped would count cloth armor. While I hadn’t fought since my accident, my gear was still in the garage.

  In the initial character creation information, it said that you could use things you knew how to use before the change happened. Simple weapons like knives, swords, axes, bows, clubs could be effective and used as normal.

  Guns still worked, but magical defenses worked against them as well. With weapons and armor, intent mattered as much or more than the material. Steel would always protect more than cloth. I hoped that meant clothing intended to be armor would be more effective than a heavy leather coat or lots of layers. If I enchanted it, it should have more defense. The same with my weapons.

  Heading through the kitchen, I opened the door, and stepped into the chaos of clutter. I don’t remember what all’s in there. I think some things hadn’t been touched since we bought the house.

  It took me a solid five minutes of grunting and shuffling things around to reach my old rapier armor bag. When I opened it, the smell hit me like a slap of sweat and mildew, with a hint of regret. I should’ve washed it the last time I used it, ten years ago.

  Good thing the washer and dryer were nearby.

  Most of my swords were practice rapiers. Mostly safe for practice, useless in a fight. Except one: my dress blade that I used for walking around looking pretty. It wasn’t sharp, but it had a point and a solid cup hilt. Not very lethal, but better than nothing.

  Dusting off my bench grinder on my workbench next to the garage door, I gave the edge a little attention. It wouldn’t hold an edge forever, but it might pierce flesh, or at least cardboard. If it did damage, I’d be happy.

  Two hours later, I had clean armor. Also, a shiny blade that would poke holes in a cardboard box. I know, I tested it on one.

  The armor was late-renaissance style. A doublet, breeches, calf high boots. A little theatrical, very swashbuckler. Fully dressed for the occasion, I had a black doublet with maroon trim, black breeches, calf-high boots, a turned-up cavalier hat with black feathers.

  I added black gloves, with built-in leather vambraces, a belt, and baldric for my rapier and knife. Also, a black pouch for my phone and keys. And finally, a ball-headed wooden cane I used for walking and parrying. Today, it’d be my magic wand or spell focus.

  Black on black. Classic.

  Taking my gear into the house, I hurried back to my bedroom to get other clothes and fully dressed. When I finished, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the bathroom door. I looked like a Swashbuckler, not a Mage. A getting old one too.

  My reddish-brown hair and beard had too many gray hairs in it, and the doublet was tight on me. It used to be loose. Too much sitting instead of being active during the last decade. After surgery and a couple years of recovery and therapy, I could walk almost normally now. I still spend too much time sitting in my computer chair.

  This misidentification could prove interesting and useful if someone didn't know my class until I started casting spells. Swashbuckler was a Warrior subclass.

  Before leaving, I enchanted the cane with +1 INTELLIGENCE and the sword with +1 DEXTERITY. It cost me 50 MANA each, and I felt the drain hit hard, like a weight settling on my ribs, but they momentarily twinkled light blue as the spell enhanced them. That was enough for now.

  It was getting closer to 10 am before I considered myself ready.

  Outside, the streets were still. Fewer cars, more sirens. No screams, but the tension hung like humidity before a storm. I live on the edge of a small college town...quiet now, but not for long. The students could have changed like I did.

  Dealing with a few thousand university students who suddenly changed was going to be interesting. There was one good thing if we needed it. Some of the university buildings were old university gothic built from local limestone. They’d be defensible if we needed them.

  If GameLit apocalypses had taught me anything, it was that monsters were coming. Players would rise to defeat them, or die. I didn’t want to be a hero.

  Those who survive a week should have a chance. I wanted more people to survive, and if I could, I’d do my best to make it happen. Keeping other people alive and having others to help keep me alive was worth it.

  But I knew damn sure I didn’t want to die.

  Bonnie Tyler - Holding Out For A Hero (Official HD Video)