Dennis walked home with barely concealed excitement in his steps. Months of working his ass off as a sales clerk had finally paid off. Months of tolerating his asshole of a boss, and dealing with normies who didn’t know the fucking difference between All-Star Superman and Superman Prime.

  The huge box that he was carrying was heavy. It made his weak arms wobble and his back hurt. The weight represented success in his mind. He couldn’t keep a grin off his face.

  Opening the door was tricky, but he was determined.

  “Mom!” he called. “I’m home!”

  No reply. She was probably out for groceries or something.

  Even better. No one would stop him from enjoying the fruits of his labor.

  He hurriedly walked to his basement. The pleasant freshness of damp underground air was inviting, as always. Various anime and comic figures looked at him in approval from the old shelves. The Flash smiled at him from the huge poster that filled half of the wall. It also doubled as a wallpaper, but that was beside the point. The literal towers of comic books on the floor reminded him that he should’ve bought a bookcase or two instead, but it didn’t matter.

  They also had an annoying habit of collecting mold, and it kind of ruined his nearly complete collection of X-Men, but he didn’t mind that much. He liked the way the huge pile of comics looked. And most of them weren’t that good anyways. Those that mattered, the ones in which Quicksilver appeared, he kept separately.

  He placed the box squarely in the middle of the room. He actually checked it with the ruler beforehand and marked the place. The pinnacle of his collection deserved to be perfectly in the middle of the room, instantly grabbing attention of any who dared to intrude on his domain. Mostly that meant his mom.

  Did he care that he still lived with his mom? Nope. He loved the basement, she loved his company, and anyways she would be lonely and miss him if he moved out, despite what she said. It didn’t matter what she said, he knew she loved him.

  He picked a cutter knife and stood in front of the box, taking a deep breath and calming his mind. He started cutting the cardboard box as slowly and carefully as he could. It was a process, almost a ritual. He moved the knife perfectly along the tape, without hurry, and applying just the right amount of pressure. Like a zen monk he lived in the moment of unwrapping his treasure, enjoying every second to the fullest. He wouldn’t get a second chance of unwrapping it, after all.

  He wasn’t some barbarian who tore the cardboard away. He cut the box along the edges, and even if it was somewhat complicated, the result was worth it. He made sure that all four sides of the box fell to the floor simultaneously, with proper gravitas, and he held his breath as the treasure inside of it got revealed.

  Which was another box.

  But what a box it was! Polished wood smelled of wasted money. Four beautiful japanese hieroglyphs adorned the lid. It was Kanji, though he had no idea what they meant. He would google it later.

  He moved his hand across the lines, feeling the wood’s texture. He sat in seiza pose in front of the box, and imagined himself on a mountain. What was that mountain called again? Fuji, right. He was on the peak of Mount Fuji, dedicating his life to… cutting things? Like bamboos and stuff. Serene, and deadly.

  He opened the lid.

  The katana was there, waiting for the hand of a master. His hand, obviously.

  He would never tell his mom how much it cost him. This shit was authentic. Not some cheap knock-off, but a real sword forged by a real dude from a real Japan. And it cost real money.

  He took the sword by the sheath and slowly revealed the blade.

  Wait, where was the sound? That metallic shooh they used in anime?

  Whatever, he imagined the sound as he unsheathed the blade with raised arms.

  It was a bit heavy, but the craftsmanship was immaculate. He could tell. It was as sharp as a razor, and crafted with that special layered steel method that made japanese blades the best swords in the world.

  He was the happiest man in the world as he stood in a battle ready pose and cut the air with precise deadly strikes. He could feel the air parting from his perfect cuts.

  He heard a distant scream from the outside.

  Whatever.

  New global quest:

  Protect the earth.

  Current participation: 0%

  What?

  He saw letters, but they were trippy. He didn’t see them with his eyes, his vision was unobstructed, but it was like he had the knowledge of letters being there. Like he read them and closed the message, and only the memory of it remained, but that memory was updated in real time as he continued reading the message.

  He giggled.

  “Are you a magical katana?” he asked the sword. “Are you sentient? Did I breathe too much mold?”

  A quest. He got his hands on the best sword in the world and got a quest at basically the same time. Was he the chosen one? Nah, that was too silly even for him. And the quest had a participation tracker, which meant that he was probably not the only participant.

  Should he ignore it? Hell no. It was probably a hallucination or something, but he would not discard the chance that he became a player. He watched the anime where the same thing happened to the protagonist after being shot with laser beams by a statue from its eyes. So he was basically an expert. He knew the general idea of how it worked.

  He heard another scream from far away. Eh. The walls in his basement were quite good for soundproofing.

  Quests meant a game-like system. A game-like system meant leveling up. Leveling up meant becoming better at things. Becoming superhuman. If it had the capacity for making proper builds, it could mean becoming…

  He glanced at The Flash poster. He was smiling at him, with that charismatic, encouraging smile.

  There was a chance he could become a speedster. He needed to be sure before he allowed the hope to infect his heart.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Help,” he said. “Tutorial. Information. FAQ. Guide. Quests.”

  Protect the earth: Current participation: 0%

  “Inventory. Map. Log. Report a bug. Logout. Talents. Traits. Skills.”

  Current skills: None

  “Sparse, are you?” he muttered. “Menu. Shop. Auction. Equipment. Identify sword. Observe. Party. Current health. Current mana.”

  Mana: 0 / 0

  “So magic is a yes,” he smiled. “Though magic is for pussies. Okay. Status.”

  Level: 1

  Mana: 0 / 0

  Strength: 6

  Dexterity: 8

  Constitution: 7

  Mind: 14

  Soul: 0

  Skills: None

  Free points: 6

  “What, I don’t have a soul or something?” he muttered. “Also no health. Bummer.”

  He had a vague supernatural understanding of what the stats represented. Strength was the force your body could exert. Dexterity was the explosive speed. Constitution applied to both toughness and general wellbeing. Mind was the memory, coordination, and processing speed. Soul was the source of mana, though the meaning felt incomplete. Both stats and skills could be leveled up by the points.

  Unless he was secretly stupid, it seemed like ten was the human average. His twig of a body was not athletic in any way, but the mind stat was a welcome surprise. He knew he wasn’t an idiot, despite what his dad said before fucking off somewhere and never returning, he just had… different priorities. He liked his life the way it was, thank you very much.

  And university was a scam anyways.

  His min-maxer's brain instantly analyzed the possibilities. Assuming the skills cost mana, a general fighter would need to distribute all stats mostly evenly. Maybe a bit different distribution for tanking and dealing damage. Mage, if spells were a thing, would spam mind and soul, or even just soul and relevant skills. And then be eaten by a wild dog or something.

  He wasn’t going to be a fighter, or a fucking mage. One stat held promise above all else.

  He looked at his katana. At the poster. At the comics. At the figures. There were Quicksilver, Flash, Speed o’ Sonic, Red Rush, Dash from Incredibles, A-Train, and even fucking Sonic The Hedgehog. They were all looking at him, promising that his childhood dream could come true.

  This was stupid. He knew this was stupid. His life would probably depend on it, so he needed to make optimal choices. Protect the earth quest implied that there was a threat. He should’ve probably paid more mind to the screams. Something bad was probably happening right now, and it probably encompassed the whole planet.

  This was stupid. He would get one-shotted by a stray pebble. He wouldn’t deal damage. He would have no aoe, no utility, no healing, nothing.

  But…

  Was it really that stupid to see a chance of your deepest dream coming true and grasp it?

  And speedsters were so cool. Unless the plot wanted to kill them, they were unbeatable. This wasn’t a stupid tv series. He wouldn’t lose to a freeze ray.

  But he really shouldn’t. It was unlikely that this ‘game’ was designed with that build in mind. He would just die, killed by suboptimal choices.

  But he would die anyway, no? He was weak. If the threat to earth was severe enough he would probably get killed. His survival was unlikely. This build was unlikely.

  He heard another scream, closer this time.

  He looked at The Flash, seeking reassurance. The hero was still smiling. Reassuringly.

  He looked at his dexterity.

  Dexterity: 14

  When did he? No. Of course he did.

  He smiled.

  He was going to become the fastest man alive or die trying. The thought filled him with happiness.

  He kept his trusty katana close as he approached the small window of his basement and moved the cardboard away, letting in the natural light for the first time in what felt like a few years. It was kind of high, so he had to stand on his tiptoes to look outside as he scanned the backyard for threats.

  Mostly he saw the bush that had grown in front of the window. Not much of a threat.

  That was good? He wasn’t sure if the absence of monsters in his backyard was a good thing or not. On one hand he wouldn’t be eaten by the monsters, on the other he had a level, which meant that he could level up, and killing monsters was supposed to be the way.

  Were there even any monsters at all? He heard the screams, and he didn’t believe that they were just a coincidence with the quest. Something was going on. And he had no idea how to level up if there were no monsters, so he kind of hoped for some.

  Okay, he would actually need to go outside. But first…

  Did he even get faster? 14 in dexterity sounded like a lot, but he didn’t particularly feel the Speed Force coursing through his veins. Didn’t feel any change, really.

  Damn, it would be a bummer if he just lost his mind. When was the last time he drank water?

  Focus.

  He needed to test it. How did one test if he became faster? By running, duh. Though he couldn’t run in the basement, there wasn’t much space left, especially with that exquisite box in the middle of the room that he wouldn’t move even if his life depended on it. Running outside was an option.

  He heard a long guttural scream that just snapped at some point, like it was cut off. Then a few others. They were close. Just on the nearby street? Closer?

  Running outside was not an option.

  He pushed a few comics away with his leg and did a few sideways jumps, trying to gauge his speed.

  He felt kind of fast? It would’ve been better if he could compare, the last physical exercise that he did was more than two years ago, in high school. His body didn’t feel particularly lighter or heavier than usual, though jerky motions seemed faster? Or was he imagining it?

  He was totally imagining small sparks of lightning following his motions. Sue him.

  If it turned out that he was crazy, he would be very upset.

  Okay, if that test didn’t produce much results, he had another. Namely, going outside and seeing that threat that threatened the whole earth. If that was real, then this was also real.

  He looked at the door with worry. At his katana. At the door.

  The basement felt kind of safe now. Those screams were chilling. Maybe he should wait a bit? Or prepare? He should totally prepare. Like… not forgetting the sheath for his sword.

  He took the sheath that was laying on the floor in his other hand. Holding it was kind of awkward.

  He needed something to strap it to his body. Like a belt, or a rope. He looked around his room, spending a few minutes to find something appropriate.

  He found tape. It wouldn’t look cool, but it would get the job done. He would commission the cool strap from the blacksmith later. Or was it strapsmith? Strap guy.

  Ten minutes of fiddling later his beautiful sheath had a strap made out of tape. He put it behind his back, obviously.

  He looked at the door. He gulped.

  Sword, check.

  Sheath, check.

  That was basically everything he needed to kill monsters, wasn’t it? He was prepared.

  He was ready. His dream was waiting for him. He just needed to work for it a little. And he knew he could work his ass off for the important things.

  “Wish me luck,” he whispered to the figures and took a deep breath.

  He left his basement.

  He walked slowly, holding his sword in front of him and checking every corner. He would treat this as dark souls with one life.

  But it was basically impossible to beat dark souls with one life if you knew nothing about the game? Was he doomed? He shook his head.

  Focus.

  He opened the door out of his house and peeked outside. There was no one on the street. He walked out. Left or right?

  To the right would be the local supermarket. To the left would be the park. Where would the monsters be? If there were any monsters, the park seemed like a more appropriate place. Should he go to them, or away from them?

  Duh.

  You can’t level up without the monsters. And he needed those levels more than he needed anything else in his life. His path was clear.

  He went to the left.