Chapter 1 – The Toilet in Your Dreams

  Have you ever wondered what the heel of a Golem looks like? Not the jolly bastards of Jewish folklore that are almost cute. I am talking about 7-meter-tall monstrosities that look like a tiny mountain violently pressed into a humanoid shape. No eyes or mouth to signal any pain, only colorfully pulsating veins reacting to our attacks. Well, I just found out. It’s mostly plain and flat except the bright red shining sphere that is half sunken into the stony mass.

  I command my legs to get me out of the incoming bulldozer that is that monster’s feet but to no avail. My legs and left arm were impaled when I previously tried to deflect the milky crystal points that are a razor-sharp and seemingly unbreakable substitute for fingers. It punched right through my white iron buckler and straight into me. I grit my teeth while trying to block out the ever-increasing waves of pain and the deafening sound of my violent heartbeats. I raise my right arm and clench my fist while I scrape together what mana I have left in my strained veins. The exhilarating sensation of ancient magic floods my body once more, and a raging spear of light takes a meager but definite shape in my hand. I point it at the red sphere of the incoming Golem’s heel and let it fly.

  Even though jokingly thin and fickle, it still manages to topple the walking mountain as if hit by a 5-ton missile. I found its weakness! Twisting my head left and right, I see my rushing allies, emboldened by the first real chance to cause some proper damage. But good Lord, desperation and hope aren’t doing them any favors in the mental department—they are going for the upper body, not the sphere that I managed to crack a bit. My eyelids become too heavy, and I struggle to keep them open. I manage to catch a few glimpses of the Golem shooting out additional crystal points from its torso, relentlessly impaling my freshly recruited comrades. The blood loss and mana exhaustion finally catch up and gain the upper hand. I feel my consciousness drifting away to the sound of death and havoc.

  I came all the way to Germany to get killed by a tiny mountain. What a joke.

  “Oi, wake up, princess. You’ve had plenty of time to rest,” I hear a chipper, ethereal voice calling out to me.

  Am I in heaven? I open my eyes but can’t make out anything besides the starry sky and a sea of black with golden shining streaks both over and under its surface. I myself am naked, hairless, almost translucent even—I am beyond lost.

  “Oi, snap out of it, boy, and follow my directions! We don’t have all day!” the heavenly voice shouts authoritatively.

  I feel like I’m in a fever dream, struggling to see, let alone walk straight. I can’t speak, can’t even move my lips properly, unclear if it’s a lack of ability or energy. Physics don’t make much sense either, since I’m kneeling on an oceanlike body of water that seems to run as deep as the Mariana Trench. Why do I even know that?

  I then feel the raw ecstasy of pure high-level mana seeping into me, slowly at first but awakening a brutal thirst I didn’t realize I had. I absorb the foreign magical energy with the greed and ferocity of a man dying of thirst, practically draining the unknown source for all it has.

  “You greedy little bugger, take a breather! You’re not trying to win a drinking contest!” the invisible man calls out annoyingly, while starting to fizzle out with interferences.

  My initial drowsiness and confusion are replaced by an otherworldly, magical high. I clench both of my fists together, supercharging my whole body with the unknown but amazingly potent energy supply. I can not only use my magic again, I can even exceed my limits to an all-time high. The golden streaks react to my outburst of power by combining and practically forming a whole new path of gold, drawing me to it. I can’t resist; the allure is too great, and I take off like a shooting star.

  Now, flying is nothing new to me. I could usually stay airborne like this for around five seconds before crashing into the ground like a broken plane while puking my innards out. The required amount of both mana and physical endurance is insane, but here, in this weird reality, I feel almost limitless.

  “Boy, st-... killing every... list-... st-... it,” the voice stutters but fizzles away again and again.

  I can barely make out anything that strange person is telling me. But I have no desire to answer—I feel as free and unbothered as I ever was, the unlimited-seeming magic only increasing my fantastical high. After shooting through the starry sky towards the newly formed path of bright gold, I spot a Golem. My brain is trying to remember something but struggles to bypass the mental haze. Where did I see that thing again? I fly around it in an arc pattern while trying to figure this mystery out.

  “Ah! Yes! I remember now,” I think to myself. “I was fighting this thing with the lads from the new company, although I wonder where those cowards are hiding again.”

  I change my trajectory towards the Golem to discharge every bit of kinetic energy I have amassed during my flight. With this overwhelming power, I should blow it away in one piece.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “OI, DON’T—!” screams out the ethereal voice in a panicked way, as if speaking straight into my mind.

  “Yes, yes, I am on it, for the love of God!” I curse in my head, while not even being sure if I heard him right.

  I crash into the tiny mountain of a monster and feel the tantalizing rush of light and thunder magic coursing through me, while the Golem is practically pulverized by the sheer kinetic force. My vision swims once more, and I start to slowly sink into the water, as if the sea is accepting me reluctantly. I open my eyes, finding myself in a wasted hospital room. I am tied to a collapsed bed with heavy mana-infused steel chains; the walls around me are battered, as if exposed to a bomb. A paralyzing amount of pain rushes through my entire body, and I can’t stop puking all over myself. The battered door swings open, and an old man in a whitish robe walks in, accompanied by a flock of nurses and doctors.

  “You cheeky little scamp, still alive, eh?” he says with a wry grin.

  I recognize the voice—it’s the same one from my dream, just without the heavenly echo and luster I heard previously.

  “What is… happening?” I manage to croak out, fighting a losing battle against another wave of nausea and the backlash of mana exhaustion.

  “Where… am I?”

  The old man snickers in surprise. “You, my surprisingly still-breathing friend, were scooped up from the horribly botched Golem raid three weeks ago.”

  My eyes dart around the room, full of curious hospital personnel scribbling notes while staring me up and down like I’m some kind of lab rat. A sense of shame and helplessness washes over me as sour memories of the lost battle drift back into my mind. My agitation grows by the second.

  “Release me at once, old man, or I’ll blow this place up!” I bark angrily, my voice ragged but defiant.

  The medical staff takes a cautious step back, but the old geezer doesn’t even flinch.

  “Look around you,” he says, snorting with amusement. “Ended up a right old palaver, didn’t it? Besides, you’re a spent bullet, boyo.”

  My headache pounds mercilessly, but as I glance around, I notice faint traces of my magic lingering across the room.

  “Did I… do this?” I ask skeptically, my voice barely audible.

  “Finally caught a whiff of your own brew, did you?” the old man replies ironically, turning to the staff.

  “You can pull an SGE—Specially Gifted Entity—right back from death’s door. Pump ’em full of top-notch mana, give their drained system a good jolt, and patch ’em up with the right kind of magic. Best use the same type for higher efficacy,” he explains to the white-scrubbed audience, who furiously jot down notes.

  A tall, strikingly beautiful student with bright eyes and dishwater-blond hair raises her hand eagerly. Without waiting for permission, she interjects.

  “But why did ze patient blow up like a grenade, Herr Lewis?”

  The old man fixes her with an amused stare, grinning as he points at me with his ceremonial-looking white gloves.

  “This greedy chap got a high-level whiff of his own element—pure as the Queen’s silver—and started draining way more than he could handle. Sent him sky-high like a kite while his noggin was still wrestling with that nasty Golem trauma. Dreamt up a loo, he did, and tried to give it a go right there in his sleep!”

  A ripple of laughter breaks out among the audience. Even I find the analogy funny, but I’m too preoccupied with soiling myself to join in.

  “So zis is an anomaly zen, Herr Lewis?” the eager German student presses.

  “Spot on, my keen apprentice. It was sheer luck on his part, what with his tank running on fumes and all. Plus, the spot-on match between our elements supercharged his system and let rip on his imaginations. Bloody rare, that is, though—and plenty to discover yet.”

  The old man gives me a final glance, then waves over a stout, black male nurse.

  “Clean him up. He’s done for—not a spark left to strike,” he orders while releasing the spell on my bindings.

  The heavy chains slither off me and coil around the old man’s arms, obedient as snakes.

  “And keep your mitts off the magic unless you’re keen on meeting your maker, sonny!” he adds with a smirk before leaving the room. Most of the medical staff follow him quietly.

  The male nurse approaches me as I struggle to reconnect with the laws of physics, unsuccessfully trying to move out of my tilted bed. I can’t even flex my muscles, let alone push myself up.

  The nurse, compact and surprisingly strong, picks me up with one hand and rips off the soiled hospital gown with the other. I dangle in the air, barely able to hide my manparts.

  “Don’t worry about it, friend,” the nurse says in a comforting tone. “We’ll get you all cleaned up and back to resting right away.” His bright white smile is disarming.

  “Thank you…” I manage, trying to downplay the awkwardness and helplessness of the situation.

  “Not trying to sound ungrateful, but I’m missing a ton of information here, and it’s driving me crazy,” I stutter, almost manhandled by the efficient healthcare professional despite my broad athletic build.

  “It was all over the news, man,” he explains while wiping me down with a wet towel. “You and your whole group got crushed by that stone monster. Most of you didn’t even make it out of that fight.”

  I remain unbothered by the mention of the deaths. I’ve lost track of how many people I’ve seen die at the hands, paws, or claws of brutish abominations.

  “That thing went on to terrorize and level another village but was eventually stopped by reinforcements,” he continues while carrying me over to a wheelchair.

  I grab his shirt as he adjusts me. “By the way… where are we right now?”

  The nurse bursts into hearty laughter. “Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in the US Ramstein Airbase. You and the others were brought here after being scooped up by the NATO SGE Division—‘Gjallarhorn.’”

  He wheels me into a clean, orderly room. “You’ll receive all the necessary information in due time, buddy. For now, eat up and rest,” he says kindly but firmly, placing a food tray on the bedside table before heading to the door.

  At the door, he types my name into a digital display before leaving.

  I grab the chocolate pudding, shaking my head as I notice the label. “My name is Aureli, not Audrey…” I murmur, a spoonful of sugary deliciousness in my mouth.