Three out of a hundred. At a glance it wouldn't seem like a lot, but as with most things in life, context matters. Three percent of my life was gone in the span of fifteen minutes. It seemed that damned demon had all but removed a very important part of my power when he'd weakened it.

I was supposed to be transported somewhere safe upon my death. Safe being a very well-defined term in the contract. Now it just seemed to be random.

I stood up on shaky legs, holding my vomit back through careful deep breaths. My eyes shot from side to side. This world was significantly more dangerous than the reports would've had me believe. Perhaps the demon put those on the lower paths in safer areas, which made much of my information useless if it came from a place I was unlikely to be setting foot in.

Out of the three things that had killed me, I only recognize the dragon as something the people who'd completed their paths even mentioned. Mainly how it was nothing but a legend in the continent they were sent to.

My hands moved as I continued to think through my situation. Pulling out a baggy with several dozen pieces of metal.

I counted through them, and a smile appeared on my face. They were all there, I'd made a gamble and I'd been right. I quickly began to piece it together.

The demon was quite finicky with what he allowed to be taken to this world. Weapons were a no-no, but at the same time, many things weren't.

Many of the people who the demon pulled to this world had been holding weapons before the transfer and arrived empty handed, but they still had their wallets, coins, food, trash and pretty much anything that wasn't considered a weapon.

So I had a theory. How much did this demon actually know about my world? From dozens of interviews with trial takers we were able to build a relatively reliable profile of the demon, and the answer we came to is that he didn't know much.

So what are the odds that he can recognize a disassembled pistol, a grenade, or really anything? Especially when they've been purposely designed to look nothing like a weapon when disassembled.

The answer, apparently, is that you can smuggle it past the demon's interdimensional bullshit.

And just like that in this land of fantasy and magic, I held a pistol in my hands. Bullets had already been proven to make it through to this world, which meant I didn't need to make any concessions when it came to the type I wanted to use.

So armed with a pistol, several grenades, some incredibly overpriced ammo and about two thirds of the supplies I'd been sent here with I began to cautiously move.

I was in a forest, which limited my visibility by an uncomfortable margin. I'd need to make it to a human settlement, assuming this continent even had humans.

Although given what I'd come across so far, I wouldn't be surprised to be the only one here.

I slowly got up and began to move. My eyes constantly darted throughout my surroundings as I walked, waiting for something to jump out from some dark corner and try to kill me.

But nothing did. At least not at the moment.

So I continued onward.

Judging from the sun I probably had about eight hours of light left, which was a problem considering that most of the creatures in this world are nocturnal.

Suddenly I was broken from my thoughts.

Off in the distance I could see fire burning through the trees, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted skeletal creatures moving amongst the flames.

Immediately I turned in the opposite direction and ran in a full sprint. I didn't look back, I didn't keep watch of my surroundings, I just put everything I had into getting away from the flames and the monsters that moved within them.

But I was too slow.

A pillar of fire struck the ground behind me, sending flames shooting across the forest floor and into my legs, sending me rolling along the ground.

I quickly rolled myself over and aimed my pistol towards the flames. Then, from within the scarlet fire creatures began to approach me. They were the same burning things I'd seen before. There were dozens, each in varying states of disrepair. Bits of flesh clung loosely to their bodies and their exposed bones were charred black.

I didn't wait for them to approach me. That would only lead to a quick death. Instead I quickly reached towards my belt and grabbed a grenade before flinging it into the flames.

Shrapnel tore through several of the creatures as I struggled to get back on my feet. A dull pain permeated my right leg, which probably would've probably been unbearable without the aid of my power. The damn thing looked like it'd been dumped in boiling oil.

But I didn't have time to worry about that.

I leaned against a tree for stability, aiming my pistol towards the monsters. They didn't seem to be all that deterred by me or my weapons, as they slowly began to surround me.

I chuckled to myself softly, "Any chance one of you wants to make a deal?"

The monsters didn't respond and simply kept approaching me.

"Yeah, I figured as much."

I leveled the gun, and after a moment of careful aim I fired the pistol towards the closest monster, splintering the top of its skull and sending it spinning to the ground.

That seemed to break the floodgates as they all began to sprint toward me. I simply continued to fire the weapon.

Two more fell.

Then a third.

Then they were upon me, but before they could lay a hand on me the five second timer on my grenade ran out, and the world erupted in a mixture of shrapnel and sound.

I died.

---------------------

Night had long fallen by the time I awoke, and the undead had begun to walk the earth. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, the whole nine yards. They just popped up from the ground and buried themselves during the day. This was at least consistent with the information I'd already known. Although their presence was still rather unfortunate for me. Especially since they all carried weapons.

I'd been quickly surrounded. Arrows rained down upon me as their melee units rushed in, and no matter how many I killed they simply kept coming. I fired my weapon into the hoards, talking out one or two with each shot as I ran through the pitch-black night, but eventually I ran out of ammo and their arrows pierced my legs, then their maces broke my arms, and their spears pierced my chest.

I died.

---------------------

I woke up on a small island amidst a large body of water. Although calling it an island would be rather generous. It barely had enough space for me to lay down, had no signs of food and I could see no signs of shore, but it didn't matter. Because in the next instant a serpent as long as a bus shot from the water like an arrow and soared straight towards me.

I died.

---------------------

I woke up in a forest amongst stone ruins and traversed through the land for two days, carefully, meticulously. Creatures tried to track me down, so I covered myself with mud to mask my scent. They tried to follow my trails, so I made false ones the same way the foxes I used to hunt would. But in the end it was all worthless, because I stepped on a goddamn mushroom of all things, which then proceeded to shoot needles laced with poison into my foot.

I died.

---------------------

I woke up atop a ruined castle tower far above the earth, and for the slightest moment I thought I'd finally earned myself a moment of peace even if there was no clear way down, but the world seemed to think differently. Because not five minutes after arriving the air began to coalesce into a humanoid shape. Rippling wind quickly made up its form, and then with a single wave of its hand, I was sent flying from atop the tower.

I died.

---------------------

I spent three days painstakingly moving across a lush mountain. Traversing deep casems and avoiding the creatures that lived within. Then, after twelve hours of hiking I leaned against a tree for just a moment and accidently touched the strange orange moss growing on its side.

I died.

---------------------

I woke up deep underground in a cavern as big as a city, the walls laden with glowing gems to illuminate the surroundings. A large castle stood unopposed at its center of the giant cavern where undead creatures milled all around the area. Small groups seemed to be farming, and I could clearly see some practicing archery off in the distance. However, not five seconds after my arrival every head turned towards me. I couldn't even get out a word before getting struck in the chest with an arrow.

I died.

---------------------

I moved through a swamp; black mud smeared over my face. It did its job holding the bugs at bay and seemed to cover my scent well enough. Then, while moving through the swamp's waist high waters something struck me in the throat. My hands immediately scrambled to pull the object out as I quickly felt numbness permeating my body. I plucked the small needlelike dart from my throat and immediately afterwards I fell unconscious.

I died.

---------------------

I sat up in the trees trying to hide myself amongst the foliage. It was night, and undead prowled the earth below searching for me. My eyes were bloodshot, and constantly shifted throughout my surroundings. I hadn't slept for days. The undead of this world seemed to have an uncanny sense of where I was at all times as they continued to search the area just below my tree.

I stifled a laugh, an old friend of mine had once told me just how rarely people bothered to look up. Apparently, it applied to them in death as well.

Suddenly dull pain erupted in my chest as a spear flew out from the darkness and struck true.

They'd finally found me, and it only took them two hours of searching one area to do so. I chuckled to myself, it seemed like after two days of running and hiding I was finally going to get some sleep.

I died.

---------------------

I stood in the middle of a field soaked with blood and littered with corpses. I was battered and beaten, and the blood flowing freely down my body was a mixture of my own and the corpses surrounding me. I'd run out of ammo several days ago and had to resort to wielding wooden stakes I'd sharpened with a spice of flint.

My enemies were small doglike creatures that didn't seem to be phased by the death of their kin. I'd already killed twenty of the bastards, or was it nineteen? I shook my head, it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were trying to encircle me again. I couldn't let that happen, so I rushed towards the closest one, stabbing one of the stakes through its throat and immediately moving towards the next one. I was going to get through this, one monster at a time, one stab at a time. That was the lie I told myself.

I died.

---------------------

I didn't hear the creature hunting me from the shadows. Which turned out to be a pretty big mistake.

I died.

---------------------

I didn't duck quick enough, and a small creature burrowed itself into my neck. The birds of this world were real bastards.

I died.

---------------------

I took a wrong step.

I died.

---------------------

I wasn't quick enough with my gun.

I died.

---------------------

I was revived in a monster's lair.

I died.

---------------------

I didn't know enough about this world.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.

I died.