Day II: The Sphere

Sleep took me like a thief, slipping through the cracks of my exhaustion. I didn't expect what came next.

The darkness was absolute, a void so deep it felt like I'd been unmade. Then, a single point of light flickered into existence—a lone star, no bigger than a marble, hovering before me. Its golden glow pulsed, sharp and blinding, searing my vision until I squinted against it. This wasn't a dream. I could feel it in my bones, a certainty that hummed beneath my skin: this was real.

The star pulsed three times—thump, thump, thump—like a heartbeat. A strange sensation rippled through my mind, cold and electric, as if something had brushed against my thoughts and left them buzzing.

[300 points]

The words didn't appear in front of me. They were inside me, planted like seeds in the soil of my consciousness. I blinked at the star—what I'd later call the Sphere—and it pulsed again, reacting to the question forming in my head: What are you?

A shape materialized in the gloom—a tome, ancient and leather-bound, its edges frayed and glowing faintly with the same golden light. It hovered just out of reach, tantalizingly close yet untouchable. I strained to see its pages, to glean some answer, but it remained a blur.

[1,000,000 points]

The number flashed in my mind, absurdly vast next to my measly 300. Frustration prickled at me. "How do I get points?" I thought, my voice silent but insistent. "And how did I even get these 300?"

The tome shimmered into view again, as if it were the answer to my questions.

[1,000,000 points]

"Useless," I muttered inwardly, clenching my fists—or at least imagining I did, since my body felt distant here. The Sphere pulsed faintly, as if mocking me. Fine. If it wouldn't explain itself, I'd figure out what I could do with what I had. Another wave of information flooded my mind, unbidden but clear.

[Improve Strength]

[Improve Dexterity]

[Improve Constitution]

[Improve Stamina]

[Improve Mind]

Options. Upgrades. My curiosity flared—what else could these points buy? The Sphere quivered, and I felt a pull, an instinct that I could pour my points into it directly.

[10,000 points]

A lot, but not as unreachable as the tome. I filed that away for later. Then another possibility surfaced: healing. I hadn't mentioned it before, but my left leg—the one not battered by that damn goblin—ached with a dull, familiar pain. Years ago, a motorcycle accident had shattered my tibia, leaving me with a mess of metal screws and a limp I'd learned to live with. The goblin's club had only added insult to injury, swelling my other knee. Could the Sphere fix it all? Erase the screws, mend the bruises, banish the bone-deep exhaustion clinging to me?

[6,740 points]

Too steep. I'd be a fool to chase that now. Survival was the priority—I needed to move faster, tire slower, if I was going to outlast whatever this place threw at me. Dexterity and Stamina, then. I focused on the options, willing my points into them. Each upgrade cost 30 points. I sank five into Dexterity and five into Stamina, draining my 300-point pool dry. A faint warmth tingled through me, but it was subtle—too subtle to trust yet. I'd have to test it when I woke up.

Speaking of waking up—

The dream snapped shut like a book, and I jolted awake to the cold bite of stone against my backside. I was still slumped against the cave wall, legs splayed out, the goblin's club lying beside me. My wrist throbbed, swollen and tender, and my legs felt like they'd been run over by a truck. The cave mouth glowed with morning light, harsh and unrelenting.

"Should've taken boxing lessons," I grumbled to myself, voice hoarse. Using the club as a crutch, I hauled myself up, wincing as my swollen knee protested. The goblin's blow had done a number on me—survival wasn't looking promising in this state.

I limped out of the cave, squinting into the forest beyond. "I need people," I rasped, throat dry as sandpaper. "Can't be alone out here." Water became my next obsession—finding a stream, a puddle, anything to soothe the parched ache in my mouth.

The forest was eerily silent as I hobbled eastward, following the rising sun to keep my bearings. No birds sang. No insects buzzed. The trees stood tall and uniform, their leaves rustling faintly in a breeze I couldn't feel. It was wrong—too perfect, too lifeless. The ground beneath my boots was real enough, packed dirt and roots, but it lacked the chaos of nature. No saplings sprouted. No worms wriggled in the soil. Even the bushes, squat and evenly spaced, seemed copy-pasted across the landscape.

Sunlight slanted through the canopy, painting the forest floor in golden streaks. It should've been beautiful, but the stillness gnawed at me. After an hour of limping, I stopped to dig into the dirt with the club's splintered end. The soil was pristine—uniform in color, texture, moisture—like it'd been manufactured. I moved on, dug again. Same result. Dozens of holes later, across what felt like miles, the conclusion sank in: this place was sterile. Dead.

And yet, I wasn't as exhausted as I should've been. Hours of walking on a battered leg, leaning on a makeshift cane, and I was still upright. Deadly tired, yes, but not collapsing. Maybe the Sphere's upgrades weren't a fluke.

That thought shattered when I spotted them—two goblins, their green skin stark against the browns and greens of the forest. They saw me too, their beady eyes glinting with malice. Fifty meters separated us, and they charged, closing the gap with terrifying speed.

I turned to flee, but my swollen knee buckled, nearly sending me sprawling. "Why the hell am I running?" I growled, fear warring with a sudden, reckless anger. I had a club. I'd killed one before. I could do this.

Bracing against a tree, I tried to steady myself, but my leg wouldn't cooperate. The first goblin reached me, and I swung wide, the club cracking against its skull. Its momentum carried it past me, crashing to the ground in a limp heap. No time to check if it was dead—the second goblin was on me, slamming into my chest and knocking me flat.

The impact drove the air from my lungs. Fists rained down, and I jerked my head aside, taking two glancing blows to the jaw before I could react. The goblin reared back for a heavier strike, and I saw my chance. Dropping the club, I lunged upward, fingers clawing at its face. My thumbs found its eyes and pressed—hard. A shriek tore from its throat, shrill and deafening, as I gripped its neck with one hand and pummeled its face with the other. Its flailing weakened, then stopped. I shoved it off, grabbed the club, and brought it down again and again until its face was a ruin.

Panting, I glanced at the first goblin. Still motionless—dead from that single blow. My stomach churned, bile rising alongside a gnawing hunger and thirst. The stench hit me then—blood, urine, decay—clinging to my clothes, my skin. Disgusting.

I pressed on, limping east. Another goblin crossed my path soon after, charging with the same blind fury. One swing to the head dropped it. A few hours later, there came two more. I dispatched the first with a clean strike, then shuffled behind a tree as the second barreled toward me. It slowed to maneuver around the trunk, and I stepped out, smashing the club down. Its arms snapped under the blow, a sickening crunch, and a second strike to the head finished it.

The sun dipped low, painting the forest in shades of amber and shadow. I collapsed against a tree, miles from the cave, the day's toll finally catching up. Five goblins dead by my hand. My body ached, my mind frayed from the silence, the endless sterility of this place. Hunger gnawed at my gut, thirst clawed at my throat. I pictured steak—juicy, sizzling—mashed potatoes steaming beside it, a wedge of sharp cheese. If my mouth weren't so dry, I'd have drooled.

Darkness fell, sudden and complete. Too exhausted to move, too miserable to care about the dangers lurking unseen, I let my eyes drift shut. The second day ended with five goblin kills.