Close Death Experience

The autumn wind carried a chill that seeped through Mark's threadbare hoodie as he sat cross-legged on the cracked concrete roof of Roosevelt High. At 5'5" and 112 pounds, the fifteen-year-old barely cast a shadow in the late afternoon sun. His chipped gold nameplate necklace - Mom's last birthday gift before the dialysis started - felt heavy against his collarbone as he stared at the ambulance speeding down Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. *Third one this week.* His jaw tightened. Mama's clinic was only six blocks northwest.

The metallic clang of the dismissal bell startled him. Below, the parking lot erupted with whoops and slamming car doors. Mark didn't move. This rooftop perch behind the AC unit, still warm from the day's weak sunlight, was the only place the other kids' laughter about his thrift-store sneakers couldn't reach.

A hissing sound like a propane tank leak made him look up. His brown eyes widened - a comet-sized object streaked through the cirrus clouds, trailing acrid yellow smoke. Time slowed. Adrenaline flooded his veins with the coppery taste of fear as he scrambled backward, palms scraping concrete.

*WHUMPH!*

The impact threw him like a ragdoll. His left shoulder hit the chain-link fence first. Through ringing ears, he heard the sizzle of molten concrete. Where he'd been sitting moments before now smoked a crater containing...a ring? Not just any ring - this thing pulsed like a living thing, its gold surface swirling with liquid light.

"Ugh...the hell?" Mark's voice cracked. His mouth tasted of burnt hair. When his trembling fingers brushed the ring's surface, the world dissolved into static.

Darkness. Weightlessness. The smell of ozone and something organic, like freshly turned earth. Mark's stomach lurched as if he'd missed a step in the dark. A cerulean hologram materialized with a subsonic hum that vibrated his molars:

**[G.O.D. (God Of Destruction) System Initialized]**

**[Candidate: Mark Craney]**

**[Genomic Compatibility: 99.7%]**

**[Initializing Survival Protocol...]**

Before he could process the words, jungle heat slapped him like a wet towel. Cicadas screamed in the triple-canopy rainforest. His right hand instinctively closed around the bone-hilted dagger that hadn't been there seconds before - the blade curved like a talon, edge gleaming unnaturally sharp.

"Harraaaaaa!" The guttural shriek came from behind. Mark spun, sneakers sinking into loamy soil. The creature stood four feet tall, its jaundiced green skin mottled with fungal growths. Bulbous yellow eyes locked onto him. *Not human.* The realization hit his gut before his brain - the stench of rotting meat, the click of claws on stone, the dagger in its three-fingered hand crusted with...was that rust or dried blood?

Adrenaline narrowed his vision. The goblin lunged. Mark's wild slash missed by inches. His combat experience? Two years of mandatory school boxing classes. The creature's dagger bit into his left deltoid. White-hot pain. Warm blood soaked his sleeve.

**[Critical Hit! -3 HP]**

**[Poison Detected: Necrotic saliva (0.2 HP/sec)]**

"Shit! SHIT!" Mark's voice went shrill. The pain was wrong - deeper than any cut, spreading like liquid nitrogen through his veins. He yanked the dagger free, blood arcing crimson. The goblin hissed, revealing needle-like teeth dripping viscous saliva.

Survival instinct overrode pain. Mark feinted left, then drove his blade upward. The dagger sank into rubbery flesh. A wet pop as the right eyeball burst. The creature's howl shook droplets from broad leaves above. They grappled in the mud, Mark's nose filling with the stench of rancid meat and his own coppery blood. Teeth sank into his earlobe. A sickening tear. He screamed, stabbing blindly until the body beneath him stopped twitching.

**[Combat Summary]**

**[Total Damage Taken: 17 HP (Critical: Left Ear Amputated)]**

**[Remaining HP: 3/20]**

**[Debuffs: Poison (00:07 remaining)]**

Golden light suddenly enveloped him. Mark gasped as tissue knitted itself back together - the phantom itch of regenerating nerves, the dizzying reformation of cartilage. He touched his intact ear, hyperventilating.

**[System Ownership Confirmed]**

**[Earth Integration Countdown: 59:59]**

**[Recommended Action: Prepare]**

The hologram displayed a live feed of his sleeping mother in her clinic bed. Her chest rose and fell. For now.