《Pain and Tears: A Deckbuilding LITRPG》Prologue: The Monolith
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3,148.
That's the total number of cheeseburgers Dean had eaten in his lifetime. Moreover, he'd apparently watched 52,560 hours, 43 minutes, and 26 seconds of various TV shows and movies.
On a more disappointing note, he'd only taken 53,457,975 steps in his lifetime, nearly 75% less than average.
All of these mundane tidbits of knowledge weren't things that he'd meticulously tracked throughout his life. Instead, whenever he had a question about any statistical aspect of his life the answer was just- there in his head.
Unfortunately, this miraculous occurrence didn't answer the important questions Dean had about his life.
All of his regrets and questions of the 'what if' situations in his life were destined to remain unaddressed. He would never know what his life would have been like if he'd chosen to become a firefighter instead of a plumber. He'd never know how different his life would be if he'd mustered up the courage to talk to that girl in 11th grade.
Regrets like this plagued his life, but his career path wasn't among them.
Being a firefighter, like many other 'respected' jobs was overly restricting. Being told what to wear and how to do your job were the two main factors that influenced him to become self-employed.
Dean was the type of guy that would go left if someone tried to tell him to go right. He was the epitome of the phrase "don't tell me what to do", and he embodied this sentiment to his dying day.
Yes, he was dead, and he knew it. However, the exact details of his death and the finer details of his life eluded him. He couldn't remember his family(if he had any), hobbies, or even his likes and dislikes.
Oddly enough, he could remember his name, basic education, and a random assortment of knowledge ranging from pop culture references to the state bird of every state.
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"I take it that you have questions?"
A slightly ethereal voice with an oddly raspy quality interrupted Dean's introspection and brought his attention to the entity that was closing in from the distance.
Towering amidst a practical sea of humanoid husks that slowly marched forward in near synchronous coordination, stood a 12-meter midnight black monolith that sporadically released wisps of sanguine tendrils from each of the cryptic runes transcribed on its surface.
Eerily silent, the vast majority of the hoard of husks slowly undulated as their footsteps rose and fell on mass carrying the tablet forward at a slow but methodic pace.
The few among them that managed to vocalize their frustrations could do little beyond wail in indignation and fury before they were compelled by some unseen force into submission.
With no other outlet to release their pent-up frustration and fury upon, all of the human husks turned their gazes toward Dean that stood alone- free and unencumbered.
Most of them stared with hollow, vacant eyes that had given up on any sense of hope. Dean couldn't explain how he knew, but underneath their fury, towards him, he glimpsed an even deeper plea to be released from their horrid existence.
Their vocal counterparts were a bit better. Their eyes were vacant as well, but deep within their gaze Dean could sense a vicious hope. It was as if they could envision themselves breaking free from their shackles and overturning the depths of hell.
While Dean was observing all of this, the procession had made its way to him only stopping once they were a mere 5 meters away.
Up close the visceral emotions emanating off of the hoard were almost palpable; however, these emotions seemed almost child-like when compared to the vast feeling of despair and horror that was being released from the monolith.
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Each one of the sanguine tendrils licked the air, the air rippled and reality tore at its seams. Each tear was accompanied by a brief glimpse of unfathomable horror.
On more than one occasion, whatever was beyond the tear would attempt to slither free. Luckily, the tears in reality were fleeting at best and would close long before any of them could make any real progress.
"I will not repeat myself. Do you have questions?"
The sentence sounded as if numerous individuals were speaking in perfect harmony.
Dean stood for several seconds slack-jawed in trepidation and wonder at the horrifying yet awe-inspiring sight of the horde of humanoid husks speaking in synchrony before he could muster up the resolve to respond.
"Huh?"
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The following is account given by a surviving battle soldier, Zinhestine Vazo.‘He was there. The cruelest of all in Europe, the spawn of devil, no, he is the devil himself, pleasuring himself from our pain; he watched us suffer and laughed with his fellow soldiers. He mocked us while we cried begging for death. No one is safe from him, not even women or children, the ice cold blue eyes show mercy to none. There is no way that he is a man, the true tyrant of Europe not even our Lord can match with him, he’s Natria the Tyrant.’ Zinhestine was later found dead in his cell. A note was recovered from his body.‘I know you guys are deporting me to Chemintz, I would rather die than go through that hell again. My death would be the final warning, please stop the war, other wise there would be no Germany in the map by tomorrow.’
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