(21 Days Left)

I blinked in surprise as a blue box with white letters materialized in front of me. It hovered in the air, emitting a soft glow that caught my attention. I reached out to touch it, half-expecting it to vanish like a figment of my imagination.

To my astonishment, the box remained there as I blinked. I hesitated for a moment before summoning the courage to read the words displayed on its surface. It read:

My heart skipped a beat as I tried to make sense of the message. What did it mean? 21 days for what? Was this some kind of a cosmic joke?

My throat still chafed like mad. The sharp blood-red stone I had swallowed just moments ago felt like it was stuck somewhere halfway through me. Fading patterns of a monstrously complex hexagram flickered beneath my bare feet.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

I had always been a forsaken child, living in the magical orphanage run by the mad mage known as Master Alaric Milgrim. Far too often Master Milgrim tested his disgusting alchemical concoctions on me and the other orphans in an attempt to break the System, to unlock it in children below 18 years of age.

It seemed today that the orphanage-running bastard had finally succeeded.

“You see something, don’t you, Mervin?” Master Milgrim bared his yellow teeth, his thick, greasy white beard trembling in unconcealed excitement. “Do you see the blue notification window?”

“It says twenty-one days,” I uttered, watching electrical sparks dance between the old man’s fat fingers. The fat bastard could smell lies from a mile away. I knew that if I tried to deceive him, lightning would leap from his hand into my bare wrist.

“Blink on the box with your left eye for me, Mervin,” the fat man demanded. “Surely, there must be more to it.”

I did.

I read the new message out loud to him with a slow drawl, tripping over the complex words.

“Damnation,” Master Milgrim spat.

I gulped.

“A waste of a perfectly good philosopher’s stone,” the fat alchemist muttered. “I was certain that it would work. No matter… no matter.”

My mind raced as I absorbed the gravity of the situation. Twenty-one days until my soul shattered and death claimed me for her own. The words echoed in my head, filling me with a sense of dread and desperation. I had always known that life in the orphanage was far from ideal, but I never imagined that my master's experiments would lead to my demise so soon at sixteen.

I clenched my fists, feeling the surge of anger and frustration course through my veins. How could he be so callous, so indifferent to the lives he toyed with? I had endured his numerous experiments, his cruelty, and now I faced an inevitable death sentence.

But amidst the despair, a spark of hatred and focus flickered within me. I refused to accept my fate without a fight. I had witnessed the strength of the System firsthand, seen its potential to transform ordinary individuals into unstoppable heroes and unkillable monsters. If I had only twenty-one days left, then I would make every moment count.

The blue box, still hovering in the air, taunted me with its ominous countdown.

Master Milgrim's voice cut through my dark thoughts, his tone laced with annoyance. "I'll have to try again, perhaps with a smaller stone," he muttered, dismissing the significance of my impending demise.

[Stats,] I thought.

All low numbers. Yes, I knew my numbers and letters. Master Milgrim taught us all that much. Orphans who knew how to read and count their numbers could be sold off to high-paying clients in Acadia. I knew a few that had become shop salesmen in the city. I knew a lot more than I showed, in fact.

While the others went to bed, I usually crept through the halls and lockpicked the door with an old pin I kept in my nest of black hair and read all of the fat bastard's books, an alchemist's library of a thousand tomes. Milgrim's journals made it clear to me why our master was banned from Acadia Arcanarium and was forced to "retire" on the outskirts of town.

"What do these words mean, Master?" I asked, twisting my face into the expression of an idiot who didn't understand anything.

"You've got twenty-one days of having the system," Master Milgrim lied smoothly. "There's a tracker spell on you to keep an eye on things. Don't worry your empty head about it, Merv. Go… play in the yard."

He didn't even give me work! Play in the yard? Does the sleazy alchemist actually care for me? Does he feel bad that I am going to die? Doubtful.

I chose not to question his words further and rushed out of the laboratory. I pulled on my brown tunic and exceptionally cheap leather boots and was out of the door.

The yard was a drab area surrounded by a tall, moss-covered stone wall. The wall wasn't an impediment to me. I rushed towards it, grabbing onto the uneven stones, and started climbing. A few kids saw my ascent but didn't comment on it.

In moments I was over the wall and had leapt to the nearest tree. Swinging from branch to branch, I was soon on the ground.

Running across yellow and orange fields, my heart beating like mad, I rushed towards the city. The blubbery alchemist wouldn't be able to catch me.

Twenty-one days. Three weeks to figure out how to stop myself from dying.