Mature Content Warning: This chapter has a dark tone and involves disturbing concepts. Death, child molestation (no, not onscene. It's a past event) and other things is mentioned. There is some swearing.

Author's Note: I decided to retool this chapter portion slightly to go ahead and reveal a few key reasons for why the MC (Yes, guess his real name. Ha!) has chosen to forsake the world in a bid to become stronger in the other world. I may have to put a tragedy or drama tag on this, but I am not sure how much 'dark dark' will be in the story other than graphic violence. We'll see in the next few full chapters.

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Chapter 2.1: I Hate That I Still Care

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The dull red light of a digital alarm clock was the only illumination in the room. Chaotically arrayed about the area were pieces of clothing and the occasional take-out food container that had not managed to reach a garbage can, yet.

He blinked once then sighed. The world he hated had claimed him once more. After he rolled out of bed, with great reluctance, he stumbled into the bathroom and loudly relieved himself. There was no reason to be quiet about it. He lived alone.

A quick glance into the mirror revealed an unshaven face with thick stubble, eyes that bespoke sleep deprivation, and the pasty, dough-like complexion, of a man who only left the house to earn enough money to live.

He looked away from the mirror with a sigh. There was nothing worth noticing within its contents.

“What day is it?” He had thought that it would be his day off, but he had to be certain. He walked to his computer and the aging machine stuttered to life in a manner that made it seem like it was filled with shame and regret. Had anyone searched the browser history they would have known exactly why the machine no longer wished to live in this world.

“The thirteenth?” He was off today. That was one bit of brightness in an otherwise craptastic life.

Recently, he had stocked his refrigerator and home as much as possible. The dream consumed his life and he wanted to spend as much time living in it as possible. Leaving the house would ruin that.

Most people saw the existence of the dream world as strange, or terrifying. For him, it was the best news possible.

Unfortunately, unlike many others he had not lost any family members. He had gotten his hopes up a little when he heard that the asshole his mother had married ten years ago had crashed his truck, but the child molesting piece of shit survived.

He had tried for years to get her to leave the man, to stand up to the bastard. She was too compliant, too beaten down by life to try living on her own. He had given her an open invitation to stay with him, but she never took him up on the offer. The police, those useless bastards, had stopped going when he called them.

A slight curve came to his lips when he recalled the one and only interaction he’d enjoyed having with his so-called step-father. Scott had finally been unable to take it anymore. At the tender age of fourteen he had taken a baseball bat to his step-father and repeatedly beat the man.

Yet, he’d been forced to go to jail and then Juvenile hall. He was the one who had been punished even though that piece of shit had... It did not matter anymore.

He had largely written his family off years ago, and he had no real friends to speak of unless you counted people who posted on Internet forums. There was only one person in his life who he had great concern for, and she had been as unchanged as she was before.

Scott frowned darkly, “Best stop thinking about pointless shit like that.”

He forced himself to think of something else. He spared a glance at what passed for his entertainment center. He had two bookcases full of games, new and old, mostly old. He liked the older games best. There was less emphasis on multiplayer and online play. He had loved the massively multiplayer online games for a long time, but he did not adore the idiotic and immature assholes who plagued such games. They reminded him too much of himself, or worse, Harry his so-called stepfather. No one liked that sort of person.

Since he had sat down at the computer already, he decided to check on the various sites that had chosen to cover the dream world. It did not take long to find the verified level listing on the site that he frequented most, The Dream.

Supposedly, a minimum of three unbiased individuals who were not acquainted with each other had to verify the level of the people who were posted. He was certain that many people gamed the system just to look cool, or whatever. Still, the level ranges were much more realistically shown than on most sites.

“Highest verified level is seven.” During the three days he had been absent from the Dream, someone had already managed to get that far. It was a little sobering. Acquiring levels seemed to take a while. That person must have been asleep for days on end.

After checking into the man’s information, blood-shot eyes widened. “So, that’s why...”

The highest leveled dreamer known to man was also known to be a coma patient. People who were unable to exist in this world in any meaningful way were automatically capable of staying in that world for far longer than others. It was strange, though. He had not known that coma patients were capable of dreaming. Though, there had been studies that showed different response rates among coma patients who were comatose for different reasons.

“I knew I would be behind the curve. This is not news.” It was not a race, but it was important to become a proper threat. If he did not wish to live a second crappy life in that other world, he needed to acquire as much strength as possible.

Unfortunately, he would need to remain awake for several hours to rest properly. He did wonder how coma guy managed to restore his stamina. Perhaps he slept in that world, but never returned to this one? Maybe he had a bonus ability that allowed him to regenerate his stamina better? Either way, he was not telling.

“Forget coma guy... I need to see where I am.” He searched the world map section for verified information. The topics were sparse, but it did seem that a few larger cities were verified. He spent the better part of an hour looking through the information, but no one mentioned Argent.

He rubbed his chin. Maybe the bestiary would help? People had also started to catalog the monsters in various regions. He already knew that monsters seemed to be territorial. few among them existed in all places.

The screaming onion was not listed. Either he was alone in the region, or other people were not talking about the area. That was fine. He would be able to learn more about his part of the world after he reached town. Argent was not supposed to be a large town, but if it was on a major road then there was bound to be information about the region.

There was little else that he could do to determine where he was at the moment in relation to where the rest of Earth born humanity resided. Instead he checked the updated information topics on skill development.

Unfortunately, that section of the site was not verified to the extent that he would like. He had to sift through a lot of garbage information. Still, he did find a few interesting gems that seemed legitimate. Most people had not chosen their skills well. They had chosen things that sounded cool or seemed like they would be useful. Most had thought that they would be able to choose other skills later, because it was like a game. Surely, you could reset your skills?

So far, those people had been wrong. It was too early to tell, but many people were crying foul. A few even claimed that it was unfair. He smiled as he read the foolish rants of the people who thought that the dream world owed them something. It was like what happened when someone who played a free online game that charged nothing, and did not even have a way to purchase items for your character, chose to complain because their character sucked.

He shook his head. During his tutorial dream he had immediately chosen to think that whatever he chose would be the only thing he would have to work with. He had decided to be as self-sufficient as possible while focusing on his true desire, magical badassery.

Many had done similarly. They had decided what sort of character they wanted to be, like it was a game, and then added ways to make themselves as capable as possible while supporting that desire.

Other people had chosen eclectic skills thinking that if they could do a little bit of everything they would have greater viability. That might be true, no one knew. However, at the moment many people complained because their vitality rose too slowly to allow them to do anything.

He disregarded the foolish bickering morons for the moment then focused on the few gems of information that he had found. The information that he sought most was how to generate new abilities. During the tutorial, he had been granted basic abilities derived from his skills. However, there was no automatic ability updating system. He would have to find or create his own powers then use skill points to make them into official abilities.

Everyone started out with the exact same capacity if they chose a specific skill. However, everything they did after that was completely dependent upon their own desire.

“Magic talent means that I can use magic, I know that. How do I create new spells?” That was something he desperately wanted to know. Jolt might be useful in the future, but until his vitality increased he would not be able to use it much. Until his spirit increased, he would not be able to have any real use for it besides imbuing the spell into his sword.

The man who would be Blackthorne considered the situation for a moment. His jolt spell would be the key. What did it take to cast that spell? There was a chant, and a vitality drain. He had a vague idea of the spell working based on that. He suspected that creating new spells or abilities was more labor intensive. No one had quite managed it yet.

He read through the information some more, and then refreshed the page. A new topic appeared. His eye lit up. “There are spell books?”

That would be incredibly useful. Yet, there was a catch. The books took time and effort to study.

“Precursor six-one-seven claims that he found a book on day one, but after several days of studying he has only learned the basics of how to form even the simplest spell.” he said aloud. The one who had posted was doing so on behalf of a friend.

“Spell books that could work.” If he studied magic to the extent that he learned new spells, he might be able to determine how to create one himself. There was a specific type of spell that he wanted to learn as quickly as possible. Once he mastered it, his vitality issues would be lessened considerably and his journey as Blackthorne could truly begin.

He looked around the site some more then noticed the time. “Guess I should get going...”

Scott took a deep breath, and then stepped away from his computer. He forced himself to smile a normal, happy smile. It was a fake smile, but it was there. He practiced smiling and made an attempt to sound happy while he walked through his garbage strewn home and made his way to the bathroom once more.

Unconcerned by the fact that water was becoming scarce in the area due to a lengthy drought, he turned on his shower then moved in front of the bathroom sink once more. He stripped down to reveal all his glory to the world. The man in the mirror was a pale mockery of a real person, and both the man and the mirror knew it.

While his shower water warmed up, he washed his face and proceeded to perform his bi-weekly ritual. He shaved. He even brushed his teeth. Today, today he did those things. He had to look his best today.

Scott shaved and brushed his teeth then slipped into the shower. He let the purifying water wash away his cares for a time then finished cleaning himself. He bathed more frequently than he shaved, but some days it was a struggle to really give a damn about it.

He toweled off and headed back into the living room. Scott turned on the television then sighed. “Still talking about it, huh?”

The only thing that had been on television for days was the news. The death toll had been immense since the first dream, and the world mourned. Scott supposed that he should mourn with it, but he just did not have the energy to give a damn. Why should he care about a shitty world that let a man like Harry roam free after what he did? Should he weep for those people who lost loved ones?

Yes, he knew that he should. Somewhere deep down beneath his rage and depression there was a person who gave a damn. That was why he shut the television off in disgust. He hated himself for that fleeting sense of concern and empathy. He hated that he still cared on some level. There was only one person worth giving a damn about, and he would finally get to see her again today.

He got dressed in his best outfit, it was the only work shirt that he had that had no holes in it. He walked over to a vase that held beautiful flowers, water lilies. They were her favorite. A soft sigh escaped his lips before he moved to the door. The moment he touched the knob he forced himself to smile. Today was a day for smiles, it really was.

A short time passed and Scott walked into her residence, the place where the only good thing in this world resided. He stopped just short of where she lay in repose, as beautiful in his memory as she was on the last time he had visited her.

Scott placed the flowers down in front of her headstone then said, “Hey, sis. It’s been a while, huh?”

His eyes began to mist over as the memories and recriminations passed through his mind. He tried to tell himself that he had been a child that he could not have done more. He had even gone to jail for what he did when he found out about what had happened to his little sister.

He fought back the tears and forced himself to smile. “It’s been a crazy two weeks... Let me tell you about it...”