“Don’t be alarmed, Samuel,” Burrlegast said, summoning an apple in one hand and a blade in the other. “Let me make this a bit more comfortable, eh?” The summoner cocked an eyebrow and with a snap of his fingers the surroundings shifted.

  Rook fell to his knees as the world went from the smoky white, to his front porch in Pineville.

  “You bastard,” Rook said, his lips stretching into a snarl. “How could you bring me and Knox here to Yorthon!?” He roared the question.

  The God Maker gave no answer, instead only snapped his fingers. The robes shimmered, melting away into a plaid shirt and khakis held up by suspenders. His hair slicked back and his face drooped with the natural erosion of time.

  “No,” Rook's words trailed off, he wasn't staring at Burrelgast, instead he was looking at his Grandfather, Jimmy.

  “How’s this version of myself, Sammy?” The fake version of his grandpa asked, with a smile.

  Rook's words caught in his throat. It'd been months since he’d lost the man. His heart rose to a hard thumping tempo. He dug his nails into the deck. This can't be real.

  The man masquerading as his grandfather cut a slice of the apple, unperturbed by the outburst. “I manifested a transportation spell in your world. However, Earth, had a lowered veil and my magic manifested into a crystal for whatever reason.” He popped a slice into his mouth. “Curious thing, really,” he said with his mouth full.

  Still frozen, Rook felt his body move on its own. First to his knee, standing. With clenched fists, he walked to his grandfather. “Change him back,” Rook said, with a dangerous tone.

  After snapping, Burrlegast returned to his original form of the old wizard and bowed. “For the trouble I've caused, I'll grant you this one demand. The next time you demand something from me, this game, your life ends." He spoke with an absolute certainty.

  Rook lamented. “Why am I here? Why is Knox here?” Rook asked, dejected.

  “I looked for worthy warriors, products of pain, who could persevere through any task.” He bit into the apple. “Honestly, you’ve surpassed my expectations by a long shot, though. Who knew I’d get a warrior like you?” He swallowed the piece and went for another. “As for your friend, he wasn’t worthy. In fact, he’s making a mess of the Infernal Kingdom politics as we speak. A damned fine necromancer, though. You, competent Conjured, always make the best use of the exploits I give you.” As if he realized something important, Burrlegast snapped once again. "Oh, as for why you're here."

  The world went hazy and Rook’s body whipped into the air like a rag doll, giving him a case of vertigo from Hell. Air whooshed past him in an ear-splitting whine. Once again, the world shifted, and he was instead faced down on smooth red marble tiles. Rook slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off.

  “You should really work on your balance. Have you been eating all your fruits and vegetables here?” Burrlegast asked him, dusting off imaginary dust.

  Nope. His jaw dropped, when he realized where he was. Red pillars, with designs of gold griffins, lined the marble walkway that had served as his bed moments ago. A single throne stood on top of the dais. Seated there was an Elf woman. She had shoulder-length white hair, bright blue eyes, and the sharp cheekbones of her people. She cocked her head sideways in their direction. In her right hand a black stave; her left, a golden jeweled chalice. To her left a brawny looking Elf, with shaggy blonde hair. Even though he must have weighed two hundred fifty pounds, he held the same delicate posture as the queen.

  “The Blood Queen.” Burrlegast tapped one foot on the ground. “And one of her generals.”

  This must be General Lan, the other one. Rook felt small, despite his size and new strength, he felt insignificant. He was painfully aware that the woman before him could crush him like a bug.

  Burrlegast looked down at him and smirked. “She can't see us, Rook.” The Maker laughed. “Good thing too, that's the cruel general.”

  “Why are we here?...Are you going to let her kill me?” Rook asked, fear clawing his way towards the surface of his wellbeing.

  “Oh no, that’d be a waste. The first test was the Bloodstone, if you survive first contact with them, then I start watching a bit closer. “I apologize, but we had to make them much stronger if we were to have them rival the Sentinels, as well as lead the Circuits.” He ate another piece of apple. “You see, we each have our champions, you're mine. Together we'll beat the other Gods.” Burrlegast looked satisfied.

  “Other Gods?” Rook asked.

  “Indeed, the Goddess of the Infernal, God of Nature, Goddess of the heavens, and lastly the God of undeath.”

  “Why don't you just go into the games yourself?” Rook asked, with a tone of annoyance. “Better yet, take the Bloodstone out and be done with it.”

  “Well, that's an easy one. God's cannot interfere with the world of man, not in this way. You were granted an audience with me, because of the Scarm crystal.”

  Rook's lips pressed together in a thin line. Well only interfere enough to make these bastards unbearably strong.

  The doors of the throne room burst open, in walked General Krai, followed by two humans, one man and one woman, wearing only burlap pants. Their unkempt and dirty appearance seemed to disgust the queen.

  “Down Ker!” Krai snapped his fingers and watched as the humans dropped in a low bow, literally kissing the marble floor.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  To Rook's dismay, one of the humans had a tattoo peeking out on their shoulder blade, of a lion. Looks like Conjured. Rook glanced back up to the queen. A long purple, reptilian tongue snaked out and dragged across her lips. She's a predator. He scowled at Burrlegast, ready to yell at the man, when he realized the God was just as sickened by the exchange.

  “Bring him,” the queen said, her voice gentle and soothing.

  “Yes, my queen.” Krai walked forward, yanking at the chain like leashes, attached to the manacles around their necks.

  The humans walked forward, their heads lowered. Krai grabbed the woman by the back of her neck and brought her forward. She was around the same age as Rook, her face was brusied and lumped, her body yellow and brown from old bruises. He pointed to the Conjured tattoo of triangles, just below her collarbone. As Rook inspected the marking closer, the skin was singed, as if someone took a hot blade to it. The markings were still midnight black, the magical ink showing no signs of going away.

  Why didn't you use make up? Rook's eyes lingered on the poor slaves. Burrlegast followed his gaze and gave him a sad smile.

  “Some of the Conjured come near small towns and villages. A few would do the kindness of trying to burn the making off.”

  Rook's knees felt like they were about to give way. The threat of subjugation, the sight of the Conjured in the cage, all of it was wrong. Seeing it here in front of him, the humans prostrating themselves and literally kissing the floor was another thing entirely.

  “We found her near Maldoon, three days ago, your majesty.” Krai took a bow.

  That’s it. Rook had enough of the man’s talking. He brought them here to Yorthon and that pissed him off. The man then had the audacity to make the Bloodstone powerful, to the point of ruling over Centrulia. Lastly, the fact that this seemed to be some game was the cherry on top. This guy thinks playing with our lives is one big freakin joke.

  “You look upset? Did you not like the gifts I gave you?”

  “What gifts?” Rook nearly growled the question, waving his arms to get closer.

  “Your speech, the gold, the increased skills,” the man said, craning his head. “I made you more convincing, gave you better loot, allowed you to min max as you call it, and gave your attramancy a boost. You didn’t think that was all some coincidence, did you?”

  Rook thought about the massive amounts of money he had stashed in his inventory.

  “That’s what I thought, Samuel.”

  “It's Rook. Don’t call me Samuel,” Rook corrected, crossing his arms in defiance. “If you’re going to mess with my life, at least call me the correct name.”

  “Very well, Rook.” He stared at Rook for a long moment. “I know what you want, it's what we both want…the Bloodstone gone.”

  “I'm not a fool,” Rook said, crossing his arms. “What's in it for you?”

  “Power. We four Gods wagered power on you fighters. I get the increased boost, you can save the world. As a bonus I'll keep you as my champion. He tossed the apple into the throne room, out of sight behind a pillar.

  Real nice. Rook frowned at the apple core then the God Maker, who only shrugged. He walked across the throneroom towards the elves, his robes billowing with each step.

  “You expect too much from me, God Maker. I want to help, be your champion, but with the way these skills are increasing, it's only while holding an enemy object. I need more.” Rook stared at the God, unblinking in an effort to activate his Silver Tongued Bastard skill.

  Burrlegast smiled, then chuckled. After a moment, his laughter rang out throughout the throneroom. The God Maker pointed at him and slapped his knee, in a fit of shrill laughter. “Rook, you, my friend, are a greedy bastard.” He straightened himself and wiped away a tear. “Fine.” Burrlegast snapped his fingers.

  A warmth spread over Rook's body.

  High Speed Low Drag (Silver)

  Skills for user and party increase at a much faster rate.

  Burrlegast jutted his chin out towards the group of Bloodstone. “They started low, the bottom feeders, but look at them now,” Burrlegast said, muttering to himself. He turned towards Rook and chuckled. “To get an official invite to the Circuits, you must be level fifty. Get there and we'll talk again.” He palmed his forehead. “Lest I forget, you've got more pressing matters. As you Soldiers put it, the Bloodstone is your 500-meter target, your 50-meter target might be much closer than you think.”

  Burrlegast waved his hand and Rook's form was thrown into the air. The last thing he saw was Burrlegast waving goodbye, before the air passed by him so fast it made his head spin.

  ****

  “Fuck!” Rook jolted up, out of his sleep, he was back in Brianna's tavern. His body hurt, that dream had taken alot out of him. Where renewed senses of motivation should have been running through him was only fear. He pulled at his shirt, the fabric was stuck to the sheen of sweat.

  That's what I have to face….. Rook rubbed at his temples. The thoughts of the General and that whole interaction was enough to make the bile rise out of his throat. Not only that, but I have his curse to worry about. Rook rubbed at his temples thinking of the minor deity. Opening his inventory he scrolled over the boxes. Ogre's horn, Orb of Subjugation, 75 gold, 980 Silver, potions, explosive carrots. and a few goblin weapons.

  Taking a deep breath, Rook tried to forget everything and go back to sleep. He glanced at the party, peaceful in the darkness. For such a big person, Mara’s pretty quiet. He laid on the sweat slick pillow, flipped it once, and closed his eyes. Graciously the darkness took him back into a deep dreamless sleep.

  Hours later, he was awoken by the shuffling around him, as the group readied themselves for the day. The next morning they sat down at a round table for breakfast. Strike came over with a small notebook and writing utensil. Rook looked at the magically rotating menu twice before deciding on a recommendation from Reina for a fish like creature called rirro and a well deserved ale. After last night, and everything else, this won't be the first one. The rirro had the consistency of fish but the taste of roast beef, he thought it similar to alligator. He drank three mugs of ale, each person taking a turn to toast to their success.

  “So what’s first today?” Reina asked, stretching her neck.

  “I say we train for a bit,” Rook responded. “Might as well use the room, this morning and then visit Mimics. We have a lot of things I want to discuss with Jinxor.”

  After a short conversation, they agreed for a bout. Rook followed Al into the training room. Unsure of how to even begin, Rook stared at Reina, waiting for her to do something.