The Dark Warlock's Game

"This game's too hard!" Luthor complained, sitting in front of Vardy's gaming setup, a VR helmet snug on his head as he navigated Rune Quest.

Playing as a warrior barbarian, Luthor struggled with the character's skill set, leading to his demise against a group of level 20 trolls. "Keep at it, you'll get there," Vardy encouraged from his bed.

"Yeah, but your character just obliterates everything," Luthor grumbled.

"That's because I'm a Dark Warlock. My death magic makes short work of them," Vardy explained.

"Seems overpowered. Should've picked your class," Luthor remarked.

"You struggle with a few skills, how would you handle managing fifty units?" Vardy retorted.

Luthor paused the game and turned on his swivel chair to address the others in the room. Tracy sat at the foot of the bed, absorbed in her Eye-Phone. Although she didn't play Rune Quest due to sharing the copy, she excelled in other games.

Reflecting on their year, Luthor expressed disbelief at how quickly time had passed. "And we barely scraped through our first practical," he added.

Vardy acknowledged their achievement, noting the challenges faced by Duds like them in a class system designed to favor Altanas. Despite the odds, they relied on self-teaching and occasional help from a reluctant Techno.

As the last remaining Frame students, they endured bullying from Altana students, particularly Dean's group. Luthor, in particular, often bore the brunt of their attacks.

"In three years, we'll be out of here," Luthor declared optimistically.

Tracy voiced concerns about her mentor's failing health and dwindling business. "Sometimes, he struggles to remember small things," she lamented.

Vardy praised Tracy's prowess with Frames, suggesting she rivaled some Technos in talent. Luthor chimed in with admiration for her intelligence.

"You're always amazing too," Tracy complimented them. "Vardy, your calmness in any situation is remarkable. And Luthor, your resilience is unmatched."

Luthor, however, doubted his suitability as a hero. Vardy reassured him, acknowledging Luthor's heroic heart despite his self-perceived shortcomings.

Just as Luthor was about to dive back into his game, the tranquility was shattered by the abrupt swinging open of the door. 

In rushed Dean and his rowdy gang, their drunkenness adding an extra layer of menace to their already intimidating presence. "Oh great, more trouble makers." 

Vardy, Luthor, and Tracy instinctively tensed, recognizing the imminent threat posed by these volatile classmates.

The room fell into a tense silence as Dean withdrew his blood-stained arm from Tracy's chest, the sight of her collapsing onto Luthor's motionless form causing a collective gasp of horror among those present.

"What the heck?" Sly exclaimed, his bloodshot eyes widening in shock and disbelief, mirroring the sentiments shared by the rest of the group as they struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation unfolding before them.

"We gotta finish them off," Dean declared calmly, blood splatters staining his black outfit. A red streak crossed his eyes, accentuating their cold, empty gaze.

Before Vardy could react, Dean's fist pierced through his abdomen, sending him crashing to the ground, guts spilling out.

Vardy realized it was the end as he looked at his bleeding stomach, trying to hold his insides in place.

All his efforts, all his pain, his parents' and friends' deaths—all in vain. Gone in an instant, all for these privileged Altanas to avoid consequences.

The unfairness of it all ignited a surge of emotion within Vardy, despite his numbness. He struggled to speak, his voice strained with hatred.

"You… don't deserve to live," he managed to say, pointing accusingly at Dean and his group. "I'll make you suffer. I'll be your judge."

Though dying, Vardy crawled forward with sheer hatred, chilling everyone but Dean.

"I'll come back from Hell to haunt you," he vowed, glaring at Dean with pure animosity.

As Vardy's life faded, Dean ordered his cronies to dispose of the bodies and erase any evidence, leaving Vardy engulfed in darkness.

Later, Vardy found himself in a void, illuminated by glowing letters.

"…"

"SYSTEM…initiated"

"…"

The letters transformed into golden, ornate characters, reminiscent of a fantasy game.

Welcome to Rune Quest.

"Choose your Class:"

"What is all this?" 

Vardy felt like he was in a dream, not completely present, floating in a dark void with only the glowing letters of Rune Quest visible.

It was hard to focus on those letters, as if his mind might slip away at any moment.

Reacting instinctively, Vardy chose his class when he saw the prompt from Rune Quest, just as he had years ago when he started the game.

"Yes," Vardy silently agreed in the darkness.

This class was more than just a choice; it was a reflection of his inner self, a familiar path he'd tread countless times, even in dreams like this one.

Vardy instinctively chose the Order of Chaos without a moment's hesitation. 

It was the embodiment of his beloved Dark Warlock class from the game, a choice that resonated deeply within him.

As the message confirming his selection vanished, Vardy's consciousness snapped back to reality. 

He found himself lying on a bed of damp leaves, the canopy of shadowy trees looming overhead like silent sentinels. Recollections of his recent demise flooded his mind—the treacherous betrayal orchestrated by Dean, the searing pain of death's embrace. 

Yet here he was, inexplicably alive, fueled by a fierce thirst for vengeance that consumed his every thought and action.

Noticing his pale skin and the hole in his stomach, Vardy realized he was undead. His hands trembled as he processed what had happened.

Then, a status screen appeared before him, confirming his new reality. It was real, not a dream.

With newfound power, Vardy vowed revenge on Dean and the Aegaon.

Hearing rustling nearby, Vardy tensed. He was in danger, likely from Vagrants lurking in the forest. But now, as a Dark Warlock, he felt confident.

Facing the glowing yellow eyes of the Vagrants, Vardy didn't see a threat, but potential recruits for his Legion of undead minions.

"Welcome, Host," the message read.

"Choose your Class," it prompted.

"Yes," Vardy thought.

"This class is familiar," he pondered.

"I choose the Order of Chaos," Vardy confirmed.

"All selections have been finalized," the message stated.

"Dark Warlock of the Legion Occult, your adventure will now begin," it declared.