Kieran had always been obsessed with death.
It started as a child, when he stumbled across his parents’ library full of books on anatomy and corpse preservation. It continued through school, where he excelled in the sciences, and inspired him to become a surgeon. Then, when a minor military conflict erupted near his home, it led him to volunteer as a front-line medic.
Over the next year, he witnessed enough death to make a lesser man break.
Except Kieran found it all fascinating. He wanted to know every way someone could die, how to prevent and cause it, and what would happen to the body after the fact. Every bullet extraction, every amputation, every stitched-up wound… he savored each piece of knowledge as it deepened his relationship with death.
When the conflict ended and Kieran returned home, he signed up with the local police department as a coroner and took to the work like a fish to water.
His approach was always completely clinical. Not once in his life did Kieran care for the people he worked on. He only cared about their wounds and what he could learn from them. He was unfailingly precise, absolutely detached, and brutally efficient.
But it seemed that even death had its limits.
Now, surrounded by the dead and dying, Kieran was bored. There were no more secrets for him to discover. No more truths to glean from the flesh of his patients. Death simply wasn’t exciting anymore.
With every cadaver he analyzed, he felt the ashy hands of burnout clawing at him. Kieran had even taken to studying the anatomy of animal species, but to him, it was only a short distraction. He learned all he could in a matter of months before boredom set back in.
Kieran closed the doors to the morgue’s cold storage with a heavy sigh and returned to his office, already giving up on the day. Only one cadaver had come in that morning, and it was a simple case of natural causes. Something he had seen time and time again.
Sitting down at his desk, Kieran could feel his eyes fighting against him. It was time for the least pleasant part of his job.
Paperwork.
A wave of cold air suddenly hit Kieran as he tried to shake himself awake. Confused, he looked past his computer screen at the door leading to cold storage, wondering if he’d forgotten to close it. But both the lab and cold storage doors were shut tight.
Suddenly, his computer screen turned off, reflecting Kieran’s visage back at him.
His long black hair slithered down, framing his unusually pale face. His thin lips and cold blue eyes, slightly sunken from exhaustion, made him look like one of the corpses he worked with every day.
Then all the remaining electronics in the building powered down simultaneously, leaving Kieran sitting at his desk in the darkness.
Boredom shifted quickly to annoyance. He hadn’t heard the backup generator kick in, which meant that cold storage would soon be not-so-cold. If this wasn’t solved soon, it would mean even more paperwork.
And smell, of course, though that didn’t matter to Kieran. After years of working around death, he hardly noticed any of its related odors anymore.
But as he pushed himself to his feet, the darkness grew somehow more intense. It was a darkness that consumed all the senses, swallowing sound as well as light. He gripped the desk for a moment as he stared into the pitch-blackness.
Then the ground beneath him gave way.
Kieran fell through the intensified darkness. The silence stole the breath from his lungs, devouring his screams before he could give voice to them. The world around him swirled into a mass of stars and nebulae as his consciousness swiftly faded.
—
Awakening with a start, Kieran expected to feel his computer keyboard digging into his cheek. Instead, he found himself sitting up on a stone slab in a triangular room.
The air felt cool, though stale. An ornate stone door was set into the wall directly in front of him. The slab and all three walls were covered in some sort of writing Kieran didn’t recognize.
The room was barely lit by a set of three sconces, one mounted on each of the walls. The flames they held never so much as flickered. The steadiness was comforting to Kieran. It reminded him of the low lights in his lab.
Speaking of his lab…
Kieran looked down. His usual coroner getup had been replaced by ceremonial robes, short-sleeved and with an open front, tied with a silken sash.
Closing his eyes, Kieran tried to rationalize what was happening.
Maybe I’m dreaming, he thought. I must have fallen asleep at my desk.
He opened his eyes and looked again at the strange writing carved into the walls. A flicker of interest, or maybe instinct, stirred deep within Kieran.
“Ah well,” he said aloud, his voice muffled in the still air. “At least it’s something new.”
Kieran pushed himself off the stone slab and rose to his feet. A strange cold sensation on his wrist drew his attention. Raising his right hand, he found a bracelet made of three thick silver cords, coiled around a gem. The gem itself was completely black. Unnaturally so. It seemed to devour all light that touched it. Yet a bright orange glow, reminiscent of the sun at dusk, formed a ring around the black stone, as if immune to the void’s consuming power.
He gingerly touched the gem. As if in response, the gem released a flow of that same orange energy into the air, forming a nearly translucent square. It reminded Kieran of a computer display. The ‘screen’ was empty except for two words:



Mend / Maim



Kieran exploratively tapped a finger against the first word. The display immediately shifted:A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.




Skill: Mend
Gather healing energy to close a wound on your body or a creature you can touch.




Kieran tapped the ‘x’ in the top right corner to back out of the ‘Mend’ description. Then he tapped the second, and final, word on the home screen: Maim.




Skill: Maim
Forcefully apply harmful energy to a creature you can touch.




Kieran lowered his wrist, and the screen vanished.
“Abilities... Doesn’t mention how to use them, though,” he whispered to himself, a habit he’d developed after years of working alone in the morgue. Then he shrugged. “A problem for later, I suppose.”
Pushing through the door, he found a small, square room with nothing but a stone table in its center, as well as another ornate stone door on the far side. On top of the table was a shortsword, nestled in its sheath.
Kieran carefully scanned the room before approaching the table and running his fingers across the weapon. It was inelegant, compared to his usual tools, but it was still an impressive instrument.
Another screen popped up over the blade:




Short Sword
A reliable weapon favored by beginner adventurers. Not the flashiest blade in the armory, but it will keep you alive long enough to find something better.
Has Slain: 17 goblins, 3 wolves, 1 lesser imp




Kieran dismissed the screen with a wave of his hand.
“Goblins, wolves, imps…” He shook his head. “What sort of dream is this?”
Kieran turned towards the other door. But before he could reach it, he heard voices from the other side: three high-pitched, screeching tones.
Not English, or any sounds a human would make, Kieran mused, going silent on instinct. Now THAT could be interesting.
As the voices drew closer, the words suddenly clarified in Kieran’s ears.
“— here? We check every week, nothing new!” one voice complained.
“We don’t question the boss!” a second voice countered, followed by a thud and a pained groan. “If boss says we look, we look!”
“What if someone here?” chimed in the third voice, sounding distinctly bored.
The second voice growled. “Boss said kill! So if someone here, we kill!”
Not friendly, then, Kieran concluded.
He drew the sword from its sheath, trying to remember what he’d learned a decade ago in fencing class. Those lessons had been an inspiring study in lethal precision. He had even found the legwork training helpful during his time in the military. Of course, the knowledge of handling a rapier couldn’t be fully translated to the use of a short sword, but the basics were there.
His mind raced forward to combat memories, and he positioned himself behind the door. It had only taken getting shot once on the front lines to teach him about the element of surprise. At the time, he just hadn’t believed anyone would shoot a medic. Oh, well. Knowledge was always a valuable asset, especially when acquired through pain.
And Kieran guarded his assets.
The door slowly creaked open moments later. Three small creatures stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. They were about the height of a human child, green-skinned and wearing patchwork leather clothing. The creatures’ ears were long and pointed, while their facial features seemed to be stuck in a permanent grimace.
Kieran recognized them easily. They were an exact fit for most popular descriptions of ‘goblins.’
Unfortunately, as soon as they were inside, one of the goblins sniffed and quickly turned around, grabbing the other two as it did. All three stared up at Kieran with surprise on their faces. Their open mouths revealed rows of sharp teeth he wanted nowhere near him.
Before they could recover, he gripped his blade with both hands and swung it at the nearest enemy.
The three goblins had no time to react. While they were still reaching for their weapons, Kieran stuck his blade into the nearest goblin’s neck.
This was far from Kieran’s first kill. Even as a medic, he had dealt death to many during his time with the army.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel this one was special. He watched carefully, not wanting to miss a moment as the light went out of the goblin’s eyes. Then those eyes glazed over as the creature’s body slid from Kieran’s blade.
In the second it took for Kieran to turn towards the other two goblins, they had drawn their weapons and stood to face him. Their eyes darted from Kieran to the body on the ground, fear obvious on their faces.
But fear wasn’t enough to stop them from retaliating. Simultaneously, the two goblins attacked him from either side.
Kieran’s combat instincts kicked in. He moved his sword to block one of the attacks and tried to step out of the way of the other. While his parry was successful, his legs got a bit tangled in his new robe. One of the goblin’s blades bit deep into his lower thigh.
Kieran pushed through with a pained groan, trying to exploit the opening his parry had made. Treating his shortsword like a rapier, he quickly stabbed towards the goblin.
But before his sword could reach its target, Kieran stumbled, knocked off-balance when he tried to put weight on his wounded leg. The goblin he had parried immediately lunged forward with its wicked-looking dagger. Drawing on muscle memory from his fencing classes, Kieran spun on the heel of his good leg and used the momentum to knock the goblin’s blade away.
Suddenly, a mysterious instinct surged up inside him. Grabbing the goblin’s head in his free hand, Kieran pulled on that instinct, centering his thoughts on a single word:
Maim.
A wave of cold rushed from the bracelet on Kieran’s right wrist, racing across his chest and down his left arm to the hand gripping the goblin’s head. The goblin screamed in pain. Cuts appeared all over the creature’s body, oozing thick dark blood.
A moment later, the goblin went limp in Kieran’s grasp.
That left one last goblin, just out of Kieran’s reach. It looked at its now dead friends and seemed locked in a struggle between avenging them or escaping the source of the slaughter.
Pain stabbed through Kieran’s wounded leg. Wincing, he tried to take a step forward, but the goblin leapt back far more quickly. That seemed to give it confidence. It began to circle Kieran, favoring the side where its comrade had met with success previously.
When it lunged forward again, Kieran was a beat slower thanks to his injury. And that made all the difference. The goblin was able to scratch Kieran’s forearm with its dagger, and then again in the next exchange. Worse, it danced out of the way when Kieran tried to grab it to use his Maim spell.
The goblin began to chitter as it felt the scales of the fight begin to shift.
Kieran made a series of rapid slashes with his sword, buying him just enough time to glance at the wound on his leg. It was bad. Even through the blood-soaked robes, he could see a deep gash where the goblin’s blade had struck him.
An image of the bracelet’s home screen flashed across his mind. ‘Maim’ had certainly proven itself effective. It was only logical that its brother spell would be equally powerful.
Placing his right hand over the wound, Kieran tried to call on the same feeling he had used when he eviscerated the goblin.
Mend.
He felt that same coldness emanate from his bracelet, and a moment later, the pain faded. When he looked down, his wound was nowhere to be seen.
The goblin gaped at him as Kieran flexed his newly healed leg and leapt towards the monster. One strike to the chest, piercing right below the collar bone. Another to the gut, cutting into soft flesh. A final strike to the neck, sending the goblin to the ground.
Silence fell in the dim stone chamber, broken only by Kieran’s heavy breathing.
Then the world began to spin around him, swirling in a kaleidoscope of darkness and stars. He closed his eyes against the disorienting whirl. Once again, he felt like he was falling.
Except, when he felt himself touch down, he knew even before opening his eyes that he was not alone. A chilling voice echoed all around him, seeming to come from the air itself:
“Welcome, Chosen Contender.”