Tom was enamored by the strange contents of Ah Wei's email.

--

Dear Exalted Being,

A job opening like no other is available to you now!

We, the Gray Gemel Clan are in need of a spirit automaton to operate our various pocket realms. This is a highly valued role that will earn you a place of honor in our clan.

Your starting salary will be one soul infusion pill per week, which is equivalent to 40,000 spirit stones per month. That’s enough to maintain a low-order sect!

Although your starting salary is negotiable, please understand how generous this offer truly is and bear in mind that our clan finances are currently in a pinch. However, if you achieve our regular performance targets, we will continually increase your pill supply.

As the clan head I can bend the rules to meet your needs. Therefore any work-related mishaps or accidents will fall under my docket.

If you choose to accept this role, your job will be to oversee the various trial-by-fire competitions in our sect. Occasionally, we hold joint-trials with the five tribes that constitute the major branch families of the Gray Gemel Clan.

Given the public-facing nature of such competitions and their effect on our relationship with our constituent tribes, certain compromises will be expected of you. So, please be open-minded and don’t be a stickler for rules.

Your cultivation base need not be so high. We have plenty of high-level cultivation techniques for you to practice, and even though our knowledge of true spirit techniques is limited, we will spare no expense in raising your cultivation base to a level suitable enough to construct awe-inspiring worlds.

I have prepared a list of qualities expected of candidates. Even if you don’t necessarily meet all these qualifications, please send in your application. We just might make an exception!

- Can speak with a human tongue or telepathically. Exceptions can be made for candidates that are intelligent spirit beasts.

- Can exist in an environment native to humans. Exceptions can be made for amphibious creatures.

- Can procreate or create minions. Exceptions can be made for beings that can reproduce by some other means.

- Feeds on food edible to humans, or a readily available substance that is not lethal to cultivators above the third stage of qi condensation.

- At least three meters tall with an imposing physique. Exceptions can be made if the candidate is particularly beautiful or has a non-corporeal body composed of one or more natural elements.

- At least ten years of combat experience or five years of military service.

- Has an artistic inclination related to world building, with special emphasis on architecture and landscaping.

- Has no peculiar habits. Exceptions can be made if such habits are related to cultivation, or are connected to the candidate’s natural survival.

- Has never practiced demonic techniques nor engaged in any kind of ritual sacrifice.

- Has enough innate talent to ascend to the Godkin cultivation stage within 10,000 years.

- Knows how to operate rudimentary spell formations. Experience in incarnation spell formations is a plus.

- Has no qualms about never returning to their home world and is not beholden to any familial attachments or long-standing grudges.

Applications close within five days. Please note: I can’t keep the spirit portal open for any longer than that.

P.S. A timely response will give your application preferential treatment!

Yours sincerely,

Ah Wei

Clan Leader

Gray Gemel Clan

Therion World

--

Thinking that he could at least get a good laugh out of it, Tom decided to make a swift reply:

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Dear Ah Wei,

I would like to apply for the position of spirit automaton.

I am currently unemployed and on school break. If possible, I’d prefer to work full time for an extended period. I hate high school. It’s pretty much hell on earth for me. I have no special needs, except for a steady supply of noodles and uninterrupted internet access.

I have listed my personal qualities below that correspond to the qualifications you mentioned:

- I speak native English at the high-school level, as well as basic Japanese and basic Chinese. I’m not too sure about telepathy, but I can definitely bend spoons with both hands.

- I’m mostly human. But I don’t like hot or cold weather. I also don’t like prolonged exposures to the sun. I prefer a dark room with a private bathroom, microwave and fridge.

- I’ve never tried, but I’m fairly sure I can procreate with other (female) humans. I don’t mind furries either.

- I think my bones are made out of spaghetti. That’s pretty close to the wood element right?

- I’ve been playing MMORPGs for five years and have plenty of experience working with organized guilds. Solo leveling works for me too.

- I like building paper castles using my old collection of card game decks.

- Occasionally, I fondle myself in public. I can’t stop. If I do, I’ll die... I'm just joking!

- There was this one time my cousin forced me to play with a Ouija board. And I’ve never killed anyone outside of my imagination.

- My Dad always tells me I have unlimited potential.

- I have memorized more than 20 common keybindings.

- As long as I can leave my old life behind, I don’t have a problem travelling someplace new.

I can start anytime.

Yours truly,

Tom Fiddle

High School Freshman

School of Hard Knocks

EXP Sect

Earth World

--

Tom didn’t put much thought into what he wrote but did his best to answer as honestly and as seriously as he could, with a dash of humor thrown in to lighten the mood. He also did a once over to get rid of annoying typos. Lastly, he decided to use his internet handle rather than his real surname.

Dizzy from dehydration, he lowered his head and drifted into a deep slumber.

Tom woke to the sound of rustling leaves.

For a moment the glare of a mid-morning sun blinded him. He rubbed his eyes and realized that he was resting against a spindly pine tree. When his vision steadied, he took in the sight of a quiet, flower-filled meadow. There were no birds or animals in the immediate vicinity.

Still in a daze, he got up, and went about exploring this new world.

Nothing roamed the grassy plain, except for Tom's lonesome self. So, at first he thought it was a dream, but as he walked on towards the edge of the field he realized that he had already reached the end.

A white mist blanketed the horizon, preventing him from progressing any further.

Tom made a quick estimate and was fairly sure that the approachable area spanned roughly three square kilometers.

"Am I in limbo?" he wondered, as he pushed his palm into the wall of haze. Despite its immaterial nature, the force that repelled him was soft, yet implacable. "Or is this... a so-called pocket realm?"

He spent an hour tracing the wall, before returning to the shade of the solitary pine tree. When he sat down and looked up, he was shocked to find that the sun wasn't visible. The sky was no more than an empty, blue canvas.

Tom shivered, and hugged his knees.

Unbidden, the memories of his time in the hospital resurfaced. The video of his mistreatment, the insincere messages from his parents and the strange email he had jokingly replied to, all came to mind.

He was wearing his pajamas: gray sweatpants and a matching sweater. The injuries he had sustained were gone. In fact, he felt better than he had in awhile. His usually sallow skin now bore a ruddy complexion. He even had a bit of a tan, which made him think that he had already been in this world for far longer than he was willing to believe.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, Tom chose to remain in place and enjoy the scenery.

He sat there for some time.

In this miniature world, there was no night or day. It didn't rain, and the temperature was always mild. And, for some reason, he never felt tired or hungry. He was also beginning to forget what it was like to be thirsty.

Initially, Tom was embroiled in thoughts of his time on Planet Earth, but gradually, his concerns faded as he gave up on the idea of ever going back.

Sometimes he would rise to his feet and roam in a restless circle, but mostly he would lie under the tree and let his imagination run wild.

He often daydreamed of a different life, one where he was the bully, and all those that had picked on him in the past would suffer from the same kind of shame and humiliation he had endured.

Over time, the concept of revenge lost its allure. He yearned for entertainment, and developed a habit of talking to himself.

However, as time went on, Tom found comfort in silence. He spent a lot of time studying the white mist, trying to puzzle out its mysteries, and, in equal measure, he examined the pine tree, even going as far as to count its individual leaves.

Although the changes were almost imperceptible, he could tell that the white mist was growing, impugning on the already limited space of the tiny pocket realm. Tom surmised that, If the process continued, the world he lived in would eventually be crushed into oblivion.

At first, the thought of his own demise struck terror into the very core of his soul. But, his sense of self-preservation was lost in the passage of time. He began to welcome the changes, and often allowed himself to fall into a self-induced coma as the white mist drew closer.

When most of the world had been consumed, and there was only a few meters left between the tree that gave Tom perpetual shade and the encroaching mist, he opened his eyes and smiled.

A faint whisper escaped his lips.

"The end is near."

With great patience, he waited until his splayed feet were literally pushed back by the impenetrable wall of haze, before he climbed the tree to settle atop its bough, and mentally prepare himself for the inevitable contracture.

After an indeterminate time, Tom was jolted from his stupor by the quaking branches. His only shelter was being choked by the mist and seemed to be putting up a decent fight.

Amidst the din of splintering wood, an ancient voice seeped into his thoughts.

"Young lad... in the hundred years... since you were summoned... I've watched over you... I've heard all your stories... I was amused by your antics... when you laughed... when you cried... I was there... though I have no heir... though we are not bound by blood... to me... you are my child... my one and only son... take my legacy... and live."

The surface of the trunk beneath Tom's feet became a viscous sludge. He sank into its murky depths, and in an instant, he was swallowed whole.

Tom had already come to terms with his own death, and was therefore not inclined to struggle, as his consciousness dimmed and his existence melded into that of the mysterious pine tree.