Death After Death

Simon sat up as he always did after another defeat by the pit and reached for the wine bottle. He was beginning to think that the bottle was the most important mechanic in the whole damn game. He raised the bottle to his lips to nurse the sting of the realization that there would be no way out besides going all the way to the bottom of this damn place before he stopped himself.

“Mirror - how many floors are there in the pit?” he asked, setting the bottle down. The contract had said less than a hundred hadn’t it? Did that mean fifty or ninety nine though?

‘There are 99 levels in the pit,’ the mirror wrote out in its glowing script.

“And I’ve gotten to the fourth floor, right?” He did the math quickly. “Rats, bats, goblins, and skeletons. That’s four. Can you bring up my character sheet?” The mirror did as it was bidden and brought the sheet up immediately.

Name: Simon Jackoby

Level: 4

Deaths: 10

Experience Points: -7260

Skills: Archery [Very Poor], Armor (light) [Poor], Athletics [Very Poor], Cook [Very Poor], Craft [Very Poor], Deception [Very Poor], Escape [Very Poor], Investigate [Very Poor], Maces [Very Poor], Ride [Very Poor], Search [Very Poor], Sneak [Poor], Spears [Very Poor], Spell Casting [None], Survival [Very Poor], Steal [Very Poor], Swimming [Very Poor], and Swords [Below Average].

“So there’s been a little improvement I see,” Simon nodded, satisfied. He was especially gratified to see that his swordwork had improved to 'below average' after all the fighting he’d been doing on floors three and four. “Can you tell me how many skill points I get per level? Can I choose them or are they assigned by the game?”

‘I do not understand the question,’ the mirror typed slowly.

“Of course you don’t. You don’t understand anything. What else can you tell me about?” he asked, lifting the bottle again. “Can you tell me the minimum level required to beat the pit?”

He took a drink as the mirror started typing, but he almost spit it out when he read the answer. ‘No one has ever beaten the pit.’

“Excuse me? No one? Sounds like a broken game to me.” Simon said, trying to keep a brave face for this revelation. If no one had ever beaten it before, then maybe it wasn’t possible to beat. If that was the case he might be stuck here an awful long time while he ground out levels. Maybe not many people have played it before, he thought hopefully. “If no one has ever beaten The Pit, then are you allowed to tell me how many other people are playing it right now?”

‘There are currently 4,683,946 souls attempting to beat the pit.’ The number stunned Simon. There were about that many players on his favorite MMO. It was hard to imagine that not one of them had managed to beat the final raid boss for loot at least a few times, even if they didn’t have it on farm.

“That sounds like bullshit to me,” Simon grumbled, taking another drink of wine. “So you’re telling me that right now I’m playing a game that no one has managed to beat, and I’m stuck here dying over and over until I do? How is that fair? What kind of scam is this?” With every word he got a little angrier, as he started to understand just how terrible that answer was. The mirror kept trying to answer his question, but with each new question its answer started over, basically rendering it speechless.

The longer it took the more frustrated Simon became, until finally his rage boiled over and he took the only thing at hand which was the wine bottle, and threw it hard at the mirror. He immediately regretted the decision, because now he wouldn’t have any more wine until after he’d picked how he wanted to die again. The bottle didn’t shatter when it hit the mirror though. Instead it went right through the silvered glass as the mirror shattered into a thousand pieces, revealing what looked like a doorway into darkness. Mounted on the wall where it was, Simon knew for a fact that there was only a layer of logs, and then the meadow, but the fantasy world didn’t seem to care much about physics, or things making sense. So, even though it was impossible, there was a secret door behind his mirror, and honestly that suited him just fine.

Simon stood up and walked forward. Tentatively poking his head into the darkness and looking around. What he saw was a darker and more somber version of the room he’d last seen Helades in, and as his eyes adjusted, he was pleased to see her sitting on her throne looking bored. “Finally,” he sighed, as he started walking towards her. “Someone who I can actually complain to.”

He strode up the dias, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the top. “Your majesty,” he said, trying not to sound out of breath. “After a few days in your lovely pit, I think we’re going to have to look at other options.”

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“Oh, are we now?” she smiled, but unlike the understanding she’d shown him in their last visit, this smile was cold and cruel. “This I’ve got to hear.”

“Y-you see,” Simon faltered. Her intensity put him on his back foot, and he couldn’t help but think that even if he was totally in the right she was going to find some way to screw him over again. “The mirror informed me that The Pit can’t be beaten, and—”

“Can be beaten and have been beaten are two entirely different things Simon. Please don’t prevaricate,” she interrupted. “Yes, millions have tried, and yes no one has succeeded, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be beaten, and it does nothing to alter the contract you signed.”

“But if no one has—” he tried to interrupt her, but she continued to speak over him, giving him a glare that suddenly made him feel very small.

“Truth be told I can only think of a handful of heroes who’ve ever gotten past level 50, but you insisted this was the incarnation you wanted, and now there’s nothing I can do. My hands are tied here Simon.” She frowned as she said that last bit, obviously mocking him.

“You’re not sorry,” he said, clenching his fists to try to avoid doing something stupid.

“You’re right. I’m not,” she agreed. “I thought you still had potential. I thought maybe a few dozen more lower incarnations might yet moderate that impenetrable sense of self importance that you have, but maybe The Pit was the best choice after all.”

“Why’s that?” He asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer she’d give him.

“Well, the simple version is like this,” she said, looking right through him. “Originally this pit was something else. It was… I guess you could say an attempt to fix a broken world, but it never quite worked unfortunately. Now it’s not that anymore. Now it’s just a garbage can.”

“A garbage can?” Simon swallowed hard, not sure he wanted to hear the rest of this.

“Yes. You know. A place where you put garbage.” She smiled, and though she didn’t quite come out and say it, he knew what she was implying. “There’s millions of different people in their own version of the pit, but almost all of them have one thing in common: they’re weeds that I’ve plucked from the garden of life to allow other plants to bloom in their absence.”

“That’s monstrous,” he said, staggered by the revelation.

“It is," she agreed. "Truly monstrous. Fortunately I only encourage the devils that never quite manage to make their way to hell to give it a try. Their pain and suffering - their bad karma, to use a term of your world lets me make everyone else’s lives that much better.”

“You put me in here just to make me suffer?” Simon asked, practically boiling over with rage. He was having a hard time listening to her after that revelation.

“No,” she shook her head, but she didn’t stop smiling. “I didn’t put you here. You did that. I even tried to discourage you, not that you’ve ever listened to good advice in your life, and now here you are. Suffering for the greater good of everyone.” That line took all the force out of his anger. In a single moment he went from wanting to punch the goddess, to wanting to cry. He might not agree with anything else she said, but she was right about one thing: this was his fault. That wasn’t something he was going to let her see though.

“Fine, what’s done is done. You aren’t going to let me out. I get that, but I’m going to beat The Pit anyway, with or without your help. I’ve never met a game I couldn’t beat.” Simon spoke with certainty, but he’d never been less sure of anything.

“Now that’s not fair,” she pretended to pout. “I’d love to help you if you come with a problem that actually needs help, but you’ve only gotten to level 4. You’ve only dipped your toes in the water, so it’s hardly something I need to bother with, now is it?”

“Well maybe you could tell me what level I need to be to get past the skeletons on the fourth floor at least.” If she said she was willing to help him, then maybe he could weasel a little bit of information out of her to make her prove it. “It kind of feels like the room is full of fifth level skeletons, but their leader might be level eight or ten? Is that about right?”

Helades did something completely unexpected to them. She didn’t mock or rebuff him. She didn’t answer his question. She just laughed. Long and loud, until she was doubled over and there were tears in her eyes.

“Levels?” she asked, when she’d finally managed to stop the hysterics. “Simon. This isn’t one of your video games. You don’t level up. The levels the mirror shows you are just as deep as you’ve managed to get in the pit. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“No levels?” Simon asked, crushed more by this than anything else she’d told him so far. “But if there are no levels then how am I supposed to beat the awful monsters you’ve filled your dungeon with?”

“Have you tried being less pathetic?” she asked flippantly.

That was the last straw for Simon. Rather than punch her or yell at her or draw the sword he’d forgotten to bring with him, he turned on his heel and started walking down the stairs. He told himself it was because attacking a divine being was never a good idea, but really it was that he couldn’t stand to let her see him cry, and right now all he wanted to do was go regret his life choices in private.

“When you find a real problem, and you aren’t just looking to pout, you’re welcome to come back,” she shouted behind him as he walked back towards the door that led to his cabin, “But if you come back just to waste my time, I’ll find some very creative and painful ways to make you learn your lesson. Good luck, Simon!”

As she finished speaking he strode across the threshold into the cabin. No sooner had he done so than the shattered fragments of the mirror all spiraled up into place and reassembled like it had never been broken in the first place. The only thing that had changed was that he’d lost his wine bottle and his optimism that he was starting to turn a corner.

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