—— ? ——

  Simon couldn’t move. He stood frozen in place.

  The red prompt hung in the air like a slap, its text glowing behind his eyelids no matter how many times he tried to blink it away.

  > Conclusion: Subject must pass the Training Protocol using a different bardic art. The subject has not performed an acceptable act. Time remains.

  The line from the prompt felt like it was laughing at him. All of his work, everything he had been through — and it wasn’t enough.

  “Different bardic art,” he muttered.

  He could barely hear Dr. Melo shouting. The god’s voice echoed off the stage’s marble walls in a rising crescendo of denial and disbelief. Something about Varrax. Something about cursing his memory of Kaelen. Something about…

  Honestly, it didn’t matter.

  Simon didn’t argue. He didn’t yell. He couldn’t even cry.

  He just stared at the prompt, between himself, the two couches, and an increasingly manic god.

  Simon fell back onto his couch, his arms limp over his knees.

  Everything felt cold.

  Deep down, he had feared something like this would happen.

  Of course, the only thing he was good at didn’t count.

  Of course, there was some connection to that horrific god.

  Of course, he would have to start over.

  That was just the nature of Tuesdays.

  Tuesdays sucked.

  After Dr. Melo had finally stopped yelling, he shook the despondent mortal.

  Simon barely remembered how he got to his room in the realm.

  Days went by. The god had told Simon to take a break. He promised Simon he would come up with some method for Simon to pass; He just needed time to think.

  Simon had slept for an unknown number of hours. When he woke up, he dragged himself lethargically out of bed. He had walked through the realm, his wonder of it long gone.

  Everything had mentally taken on a gray color.

  Nine months of work, countless hours of hardship, gone.

  Why?

  The god had tried to explain, even apologizing slightly.

  “The issue is your curse. If this realm were to approve your exit based on that movement style, it could be disastrous. If it had been some minor god, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Varrax is a prime. I can’t explain it in detail, but in short: Varrax is stronger, scarier and most likely keeping an eye on you. Curses aren’t just a one-time thing. The God who curses a mortal can use it to keep tabs on or get information about them. I am sorry, Simon. I should have remembered that Kaelen Stridebreaker was a follower of Varrax.” The god had paused and looked pityingly into the sunken eyes of the mortal. “Uh… Don’t worry! I will think of something! Just take a few days to rest.” The god had said in a hopeful tone.

  Even Simon knew the god was putting on a false bravado.

  Hadn’t they tried everything?

  There was nothing else they could do.

  Simon had no idea just how wrong he was.

  Months went by as Dr. Melo tried everything. Every day was filled with new instruments, new instruction, mountains of books and more. The god was determined to find a new version of the Echoing Steps for Simon.

  A major issue reared its ugly head. Simon had spent countless hours ingraining Kaelen Stridebreaker’s methods into his mind, body and soul. The problem was that it rendered all of Simon’s attempts at learning other body movements null.

  On the tenth attempt, the prompt was far too familiar.

  —– Warning —–

  > CONFLICTING CONDITION DETECTED

  > Source: [Subject] Simon “of the Broken Oath”

  > Status: Cursed by Varrax - Martial God.

  > Condition: Residual Instruction – Kaelen Stridebreaker – Disciple of Varrax

  > Explanation: Subject’s movement pattern exhibits identifiable traces of [Intent-Based Combat Rhythm] associated with the Kaelen Stridebreaker.

  > Conclusion: Subject must pass the Training Protocol using a different bardic art. The subject has not performed an acceptable act. Time remains.

  > Acceptance Criteria: If the average tavern patron would let you finish your freely provided act without throwing something at you. You pass.

  ~ Try something else. Anything else.

  —------

  Dr. Melo sighed loudly from his position in the crowd.

  “It just won’t work, Mortal, no matter how much you try. We will just have to find another way.” The god said, voice low and hopeless.

  Simon nodded robotically. He had tried to forget, but it still wasn’t working.

  It had been over a year at this point. He had stopped counting the days.

  They tried everything. Every instrument, every art, everything the god could think of.

  Simon had tried to keep putting his all into each attempt. But as the days dragged by, it got harder to care.

  One day, it all changed. It became a new type of hell for Simon.

  It was months later when Simon had tried the last instrument in the bardic armory.

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  “That’s it! The last instrument!” The now-mad god Dr. Melo cackled. In the past month, he had been growing frantic, and Simon would hear him mutter and sing to himself.

  “Well, Mortal. The only solution now is for you to get better at one thing! A new method I came up with!” Dr. Melo said.

  Simon did not like the crazed look in his eyes. He had seen that look before.

  Right before the main avatar had banished him to this purgatory.

  “Uh… Dr. Melo, what do you mean?” Simon asked carefully.

  “Yes yes! What do I mean, hmmm? Well, I know you hate the Gallery of Growth, but you are going to need to change that silly little mortal mindset!” Dr. Melo replied. The following laughter did not give Simon confidence.

  “Okay… So… I will start practicing there tomorrow?” Simon had taken a step back from the god.

  “Tomorrow? Why WAIT?!” the god said, snapping his fingers.

  Simon found himself in the Gallery of Growth, already in one of the glowing magical spheres. From his past experience, he knew that in just a moment the magic would activate and he would be thrown into a recreation of a performance.

  “Wait, Dr. Melo! Hold on, it’s been twelve hours today! Shouldn’t I rest and then come back to this?” Simon shouted in a panic. He willed the magic to end, like he had done countless times before.

  Nothing happened.

  Simon’s mind panicked; he was trapped.

  The laughter of the god echoed through the chamber.

  “Oh, don’t worry! I have changed the magic of this chamber. You can sleep while being in it! All your functions will be handled, and you can just replay your closest to passing performance over and over!”

  “What?!” Simon’s blood pressure went through the roof.

  “It’s all part of my new plan, Mortal! Just relax and let’s get this show started!” was the last thing Simon heard from the god before his mind faded into the chamber’s magic.

  The gallery always started the same way. A warm, green-tinged glow of the magic sphere melted into a full reconstruction of the stage. The lighting, acoustics and ambiance were all recreated in sickeningly accurate detail. Even the air carried the same smell of his sweat and the polished wood.

  Simon knew what was coming, and this time: He couldn’t stop it.

  —– Notice —–

  > INITIATING MEMORY REPLAY

  > Memory: [Guitar – “Riptide” (Earth-Origin)] - Attempt #5

  > Objective: Identify and Correct Critical Errors

  > User Override: Disabled by Realm Supervisor [Avatar of Melodian the Magnificent]

  > Estimated Loop Count Required for Correction: Unknown

  ~ Remember: Practice makes improvement. Improvement makes progress!

  —------

  Simon could feel his recordings’ physical feedback. He felt as the song began and the recording moved. They moved the way they had so long ago, faithfully recreating every cringe-inducing note, every off-beat rhythm. The Gallery would replay and let Simon ‘ride-along’ with his past self until it made a mistake. He could take full control, but for now he decided to just let it play.

  His first mistake in the recording occurred, and time froze. Another prompt appeared.

  —– Notice —–

  > Error: Improper Finger Placement – Chord C

  > Analysis: Index finger position off by 11.7 degrees, 0.4 seconds late on chord change, excessive pressure

  > Suggestion:

  – Adjust finger angle clockwise.

  – Reduce hand tension by 22%.

  > Please adjust, and memory will then replay.

  —------

  He slowly complied.

  Anything to leave this place. This sucks.

  Once he had successfully adjusted his recording to what the Gallery wanted, the memory rewound. He would need to take control and adjust the memory based on what he had ‘learned’.

  So began the next chapter of hell for Simon. He repeated the memory over and over again. Eventually, he became exhausted. While this place was in a simulated memory, the physical aspects were real. His arms ached, his hands felt raw, but the Gallery didn’t stop.

  The god did not stop it. Simon could not stop it.

  He finally ended up passing out halfway through a play through of the memory, fatigue rushing him into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

  He woke to a prompt filling his vision, still in the Gallery.

  —– Notice —–

  > INITIATING MEMORY REPLAY

  > Memory: [Guitar – “Riptide” (Earth-Origin)] - Attempt #32

  > Objective: Identify and Correct Critical Errors

  > User Override: Disabled by Realm Supervisor [Avatar of Melodian the Magnificent]

  > Estimated Loop Count Required for Correction: Unknown

  ~ Remember: Practice makes improvement. Improvement means progress!

  —------

  The memory began again.

  For the first few playthroughs, he just rode along and made the barest of corrections to allow him to rest.

  “Don’t slack off, mortal!” The god’s singsong voice echoed through the memory.

  Simon inwardly snarled. This was torture.

  The days went by, Simon becoming increasingly numb to the repeating memory.

  His muscles and body had grown used to abuse; He was less sore by the day.

  But his playing became more mechanical, soulless.

  He had tried in the beginning, but he had almost nothing to show for it.

  It was on attempt #343 when he finally made it through the song with no errors.

  After the attempt, he started to feel hope, but that was instantly shattered.

  The god has whisked him out of the Gallery and onto the stage. He had attempted the performance and had made no mistakes.

  But it wasn’t enough; the song was too simple.

  —– Notice —–

  > BARDIC TRAINING PROTOCOL: FINAL STATUS

  > Source: Melodian the Magnificent.

  > Target: [Subject] Simon “of the Broken Oath”.

  > Objective: Demonstrate basic competence in any bardic art.

  > Result: Incomplete.

  > Recognized Discipline: Basic Guitar Performance.

  > Performance Rating: Incomplete - Technically accurate, emotionally inert

  > Missing Component: Vocal Accompaniment (Not Detected)

  > Audience Reaction (Simulated):

  - 63% Passive Observation

  - 19% Boredom

  - 18% “Waiting for the real performance to begin”

  > Conclusion: Submission Incomplete.

  ~ Simply playing a simple song is not a performance.

  ~ A bard’s role is to stir something—anything. Try again.

  —------

  “Oh dear. Well, one part down, one more to go! Come along, mortal” the mad god said with a laugh.

  Before Simon could say a word, he was whisked back to the Gallery. The green-tinged glow had already begun, and he was thrust back into the memory.

  Simon read the part of the prompt that had changed.

  > Memory: [Guitar + Vocals – “Riptide” (Earth-Origin)] – Attempt #344

  So began his second round of torture in the Gallery of Growth.

  Days of Simon belting off-key blurred by.

  He lived in the Gallery with the song he had grown to hate.

  It took him until attempt four hundred and twelve to become ‘technically correct’ in his replay of the memory.

  Once again, the god whisked him away to the stage. This time with a confident look plastered across his mad visage.

  Simon mechanically performed the song.

  He didn’t even bother to read the prompt at the end, besides the conclusion.

  —------

  > Conclusion: Submission Incomplete.

  ~ Vocals and guitar detected, expressive depth: Nonexistent.

  ~ A bard’s role is to stir something—anything. Soulless and boring. Try again.

  —------

  No matter how many times he attempted the performance, this was the result.

  His only joy was that the god was suffering from these performances.

  “No. No. NO! Simon, have you not learned anything?! AGAIN.” He would scream.

  Simon merely smirked at the god. He was dragged back to the Gallery and made to replay.

  He was done. This had gone on for far too long.

  Simon stopped engaging with the memory, despite the god insisting. The last replay was technically correct, so it would run all the way through. Horrible, soulless, and empty, but correct.

  Simon didn’t have to do anything. He wouldn’t do anything. He had worked hard enough.

  The god wouldn’t leave him alone, so Simon just tuned his voice out. It became white noise to his dream of Riptide.

  Then Simon learned that the god could go even further into insanity.

  “Alright, STOP!” The god’s voice roared out as the memory froze.

  Simon was shocked to see the god in the memory. In retrospect, he should have assumed that the avatar could appear in the Gallery. He had been talking to Simon.

  “If you are so set on giving up. FINE.” Dr. Melo snarled. “You just need to finish this performance and we both can leave this place. Since your weak mortal mind seems to have snapped, I will take over and show you the way. Behold.”

  The god appeared in front of Simon, eyes wild with insanity. He touched Simon’s forehead and then disappeared.

  A disgusting feeling overtook Simon.

  He had felt the memory’s physical feelings during these memories, which had grown normal to him.

  But now, his body began to move. Not the memory, but himself. He felt trapped watching himself begin to play and sing the song from the memory.

  He tried to regain control of himself; He tried to stop moving, stop singing.

  Simon couldn’t stop it.

  He was now a passenger in his own body, as the god began to play and sing the song perfectly.

  After it finished, he heard his voice speak.

  “See, mortal, this isn’t that hard. Now, pay close attention. Let me show you how this is done,” the god said through Simon’s body. “We will keep doing this as long as it takes. Remember! Practice, practice, practice!” Simon’s god-possessed body said with a sickening cheerful tone.

  Simon watched as the attempt number rolled over to the next number

  > Memory: [Guitar + Vocals – “Riptide” (Earth-Origin)] – Attempt #452

  Simon couldn’t even scream.

  —— ? ——