Rise

Light – that's all he felt. It was the blinding light filling his eyes, the light-headedness tearing at his mind, and the physical lightness, almost weightlessness. It was so bright, and warm, certainly not gentle, but harsh, like a spotlight in darkness.

And then there was an impact, bone-shattering. In the distance, was a girl's muffled scream and distorted, frantic splashing. The lights went out and the whole world cooled, turning a blurry blue. And in his daze, he flailed and thrashed.

Gasping for breath, he broke through the surface, sputtering, as his eyes focused. The air, heavily chlorinated, still tasted sweet as he savored its coolness. His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes stinging from the water, his limbs feeling the once lost tactility.

John laughed – he was alive.

…

John stared at his hands as the cold water splashed down on him. They were small, much smaller than he was used to. He bent his left fingers slightly, then the right. There was the same scar on his thumb, but fresher, maybe a few months old. And on his wrist, the watch his great-grandfather gifted him for his sixteenth birthday – its watch face reading December 17th, 2024.

John knew where he was the instant he saw his best friend swimming across the pool after his fall from the tower. Dead men don't swim. He knew, but he couldn't believe. Who would? However, the evidence all pointed to it, his predeveloped body, a pool demolished in his teens, a long-lost watch reading a long-past date: he was back in the days of his youth.

'A chance, yes, that's what this was, a second chance,' he thought. John clutched his fist; the shower no longer felt as cold. He had a debt to settle, people to see again, tragedies to prevent, and a lover to meet.

"You done?" Kevin called from the changing room.

"Yeah…"

"You really scared me you know, a belly-flop like that, I'm surprised you can hold down your lunch."

John dried, wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the cubicle. And there, seated, was the same fat kid. He bore the same ridiculously wide smile with that greasy hair and overly-large cheeks. Like his stature, Kevin's heart was large.

Since childhood, the two were together. They apparently were born in the same hospital, the same day, only a room and a couple of minutes apart. They attended the same schools, even having the same classes every year by some weird odds. He was the one who brought them into the game when it first came out and paved a new future. He was the one who helped when John's last relative passed.

But John could not help. No one could when Kevin passed.

Almost instinctively, John examined Kevin's back. Like magic, the gaping wounds were no more, and the pale embalmed skin once in the casket, gone.

The memory of that night would never fade.

Shortly after the eighth anniversary of their debut in the game, Kevin, lecherous as he was, proposed a night out. Dragging the reluctant John along, Kevin found a night club where the forever single did his best, indulging in the festivities. John, however, never one to partake, was eventually separated.

It was not until 3 AM or so when John finally found the conspiracy. In that dark alley, Kevin's mass of a body lay motionless, like a drunk. But the unmistakable stench gave it away. Blood has an indescribable smell, or rather an effect.

The police report later detailed a total of 47 stabs to the back, and severe poisoning, both alcohol, and paralytic toxin. He was dead within minutes of blood loss.

"Yo, I know I'm beautiful, but I don't swing that way."

John snapped back to reality. He had been staring for several seconds, his eyes glossy and wet. He coughed and wiped them. "Dumbass, it's the chlorine."

"You were in the shower for half an hour. What chlorine?"

John coughed again. "Never mind that, let's get dinner," he said as he patted Kevin on the back.

It felt as it should, solid, and wet, but with water rather than blood.

Not in this life, never again.

…

Being somewhat far north, in Trayin, it was getting dark when they headed to get an early dinner. It was warm for that time of year and it snowed heavily as they walked past shops selling all sorts of festive gifts along the ever-nostalgic downtown avenues. On the left, they turned into a large square just as street lights turned on.

John checked his watch. It read 5:27 PM. 'Anytime now,' he thought.

"What are we waiting for? Aren't we gonna eat?" Kevin asked.

"It's a surprise."

"But what for? A bit early for a present…"

No, it wasn't Christmas, but December 17th, 2024 – an equally fateful day.

And so, the two friends stood there in the middle of the square. People streamed past them on both sides. A few couples strolled by, snapping photos. Businesses turned on Christmas lights to attract customers. The giant TV screens plastered with ads flickered here and there. And the snow came down relentless.

Kevin shivered and rubbed his hands. "John?"

"Watch."

Suddenly, the largest screen on the skyscrapers went off. The crowds turned to face the sudden change. Then another followed. All the screens cascaded in sequence, finally followed by the streetlamps, leaving the square in the faint glow of cellphones and Christmas lights. There were a few screams followed by a constant murmur. All around the world, in similar plazas, advertisements and lights fell like the worst power outage in history.

Deep organ music started playing, more synthetic than religious, and a silence fell over the crowd. The screens snapped on, bathing them in white light. The intensity grew, giving an eerily warm feeling. Then it all turned blue, the familiar watery sensation.

The camera switched to a third person view, showing a youth swimming towards the surface of an unreasonably large fountain. He broke through in a brilliant splattering of water, drawing a gasp from the crowd. The graphics were astounding.

"Is this a new game?" Kevin asked with a mouth wide open.

No one gave an answer, but no one needed one. Of course, they weren't told it was a game, but there was no doubt that it was.

The individual collapsed in a fetal position on the steps, soaked and twitching.

The beating of drums could be heard beating in the distance and the video jumped to a brave general making a heroic charge up a contested hill; the deafening neighs of horses and screams of men encompassed in a deathly mist.

A warrior clad in red armor came next, fighting an imposing silhouette in a blizzard. Sounds were heard from the crowd as an enormous mass swung over the champion's crouched figure.

The drumming died down, making way for the sharp tone of a violin and a sharper barrage of arrows. The forest disintegrated as mages rained fire down on an elven archer.

Similar scenes flashed by: a traveler in a desert, a dogfight between dragon riders, a rogue fleeing persecution.

Eventually, the video came to the pieces' climax. No one admitted it, but so did the beating in their chests.

The general leaped from atop his horse in a final thrust.

The warrior grappled up the giant's back.

The archer nocked her decisive arrow.

Silence, complete silence, from both the crowd and video.

And then they died. They all died. Maybe by blade or by impact or by fire or by thirst or by fall or by gunfire – there was only one constant: absolute death.

So, the great masters fell, eternal challengers. Their bodies drew the same parabolic arc, overlaid and traced by the camera. The faces aligned, some older, or of different skin color, maybe with different eyes and facial hair – but really all the same.

A soft melody played as the bloodied corpses appeared, buoyant in the depths of the fountain. Above them, the youth struggled towards the sunlight. With each stroke of his arms, the dead were pushed further into the endless blue. Breaking through the surface, he stepped off the shoulder of the general, the youth's face both reluctant and confident.

The image switched back to him on the steps. It zoomed in on his face, the last layer in superposition with the heroes.

And that was the first time in the video when the faces were unclear. All the crowd saw neutral, generic features, so much so that it could be anyone and everyone.

The character rose from the crowd and climbed up the steps towards a fantastical city. In the sky, four letters faded in from behind the clouds.

RISE.