Chương 1: 0. Crying Prophet

"Damn it!" Was this how I was going to end? Rays of cyan sunlight poured from above the mountain, transforming every hydra scale into black smoke. If it had only happened a couple of minutes earlier, I might have survived. Technically, I still wasn't dead, but missing an arm and a leg—even with all my active enchantments—didn't give me more than a day. If Avon were here, he might have thought of something, but the idiot had already rushed to save someone else's life.

"Damn it all!" Next round was supposed to be the final trial. Harlequin had denied it, of course, but one of the minor gods had told me in secret. There was no guarantee she was telling the truth, but everything else she'd said had panned out. All that I needed was to survive this round, but I couldn't even do that!

"You don't seem to be doing too good," a voice said from above. Looking up, I saw Harlequin in his red and yellow outfit. I had spent years trying to figure him out, and the only conclusion I'd come to was that he enjoyed watching people squirm just as much as having them succeed. In its worst nightmares humanity couldn't have imagined that the harbinger of doom would end up being a carnival clown with the moral compass of a traffic light.

"And you were doing so well." He came closer, his smiling white porcelain mask covering his face. Some of the players had speculated that the mask was part of his actual body. A few had even foolishly tried to take it off, resulting in a "penalty." I only saw him as a rule master—one chosen to conduct the trials for the powers that be.

"Didn't think you'd play favorites." I forced a smile. The pain reduction enchantment was wearing off and I didn't have the energy to cast a new one.

"I don't have favorites," he said, amused at the concept.

"I'm here because the round can't end until you claim your prize."

"Is there a point? I won't survive the next trial like this. Might just as well give up now."

"I'm afraid I can't let you. The rules state that the round can't end until all survivors claim their prize, and despite your sorry state you are a survivor. Waiting for you to die will be a long and boring process. We can't have that, can we?" I thought of grabbing his leg. With luck, my action would result in an automatic penalty. I was dead anyway; this way I'd at least have the satisfaction of ruining his fun. Sadly, Harlequin sensed my thoughts and took a few steps back, well out of reach.

"You never know what the prize might be," he continued, taunting me.

"There might be a card that will let you regenerate your body. There might be something even better. And in the spirit of encouragement, I'll give you my sight. That's bound to give you a substantial advantage in all the trials to come." I had never heard of a rule master granting powers to players. In any other circumstances I'd have jumped at the opportunity. Now, his gift was as useful as a fart in summer.

"All you have to do is claim your prize and my gift is yours," Harlequin said.

"Your choice, but the alternative isn't pleasant." The all too familiar carrot and stick approach. When it came to Harlequin, there was no telling whether the carrot was real. The stick, on the other hand, always was. I was about to accept his offer when he suddenly disappeared. It would have been too easy to ask him to take me to the reward hall. The rules of the trial clearly stated that players would only get their rewards upon reaching the exit point. The fact that I was half dead made no difference.

"Everything for the game." I gritted my teeth, then crawled in the direction of the only undamaged building. There was no way to tell how long it took me to get there. I stopped counting after the tenth second. Three times I considered giving up and forcing Harlequin to either carry me there or offer the spectating deities several very boring days of me lying in the ruins. The only things that kept me going were stubbornness and my thirst for revenge. They say it's normal to betray people during the trials.

That was considered part of the game. In my case, the betrayal happened between stages. I had gotten drunk for the first time in my life. Even now, I had no idea exactly what had happened, but I must have let something slip, because the next morning I found myself tied up in the waiting room. The rules stated that no player could be harmed between trials, which was why my betrayers had taken special care to make sure I was comfortable. Harlequin had untied me, but not before half a day had passed.

By then, it was already clear I'd get no substantial prize. That pivotal moment had brought me to my failure.

"Screw you all!" I hissed. I had no intention of letting those who betrayed me escape! Three large statues of white marble greeted me at the building's entrance. The moment I crawled in, two of them closed the door behind me.

"The trial is over," a female voice boomed within the hall. So much for small talk.

"Choose your prize." I held my breath. My only hope was that half the trial participants had ended up worse than me. At least then, there was a chance something useful was left behind. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Three cards appeared before my face. When they flipped around, my heart stopped.

"You got to be kidding." My anger and bitterness had overflowed to the point that I burst laughing.

"Three Jokers. Of course, it would be three Jokers." While the standard cards provided skills and abilities, the Joker was different. Both minor deity and Arcana card, his only purpose was to shake things up. When selected, it had the power to transform into any other card. One had an equal chance of getting something uniquely powerful or utterly useless and even harmful.

"Which one do you choose?" Harlequin asked beside me.

"What's it matter?" I spat on the floor.

"You must choose in order for the trial to end," he stated calmly, the smile on his mask mocking me.

"Put your trust in the Arcana."

"Yeah, right." After everything that had happened, I didn't have a lot of trust left.

"You have to choose," Harlequin said firmly.

"If you don't do so in one minute, you'll forfeit your reward. And there's no resting before the next trial." Of course, there wouldn't be. One minute to decide whether I should roll the dice or take my chances as a cripple.

"I'll choose," I said. There was no point in doing otherwise. I had been driven to a state in which the Joker could only provide a benefit.

"The middle one." Two of the joker cards disappeared, leaving only one in front of me. JOKER chosen A notification emerged before my eyes, glowing deep purple. I winced. In his vanity, the Joker had not only given his card the color indicating epic rarity, but also darkened it, so as to stand out even more. JOKER special has activated: Fortuna's Wheel JOKER has the unique ability to transform into any card of the GRAND ARCANA. The change is permanent.

Only skills, attributes, and bonuses of the new skill will apply. The card spun round, changing its appearance at every revolution. Too fast to make out at first, the spinning gradually slowed down enough for me to make out the cards. Paladin, Beggar, Saint, Assassin, Monarch, Swordsman… At the sight of each usable card, my stomach tightened—seeing it was pretty much a guarantee that it would never appear in the draw. Finally, after an eternity of mental agony, the spinning stopped.

CRYING PROPHET (Rarity - Restricted) Skills: CHANGE - All current skills, items, spells, statistics, and bonuses are lost. The owner is taken back to the day before the GRAND ARCANA trials with all memories intact.

"Seems you were lucky, after all," Harlequin said with dispassionate glee.

"You get a second chance at the trials." I didn't know whether to cry or rejoice. On the one hand, I had survived. On the other hand, I had to go through everything all over again.

"Best of luck." Harlequin bowed.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again for the first time." I rose up in my bed, all covered in sweat. My heart was beating like a drum. For several seconds, I remained motionless, staring into the dim darkness. Only when my breath returned to normal did I start noticing details. The room seemed almost foreign. Back before the trials, I was still living at my parents' place along with my kid sister.

I had just graduated high school—with a score barely enough for my parents not to consider me a disappointment—and was considering whether I should enter trade school or launch a software startup. I remembered what a difficult choice that seemed at the time. Once the trials began, it wouldn't even matter. The large LED clock displayed the time, glowing in red digits: 11: 59. I couldn't see any date, but I didn't have to. The day I was snatched into the game was burned deep into my mind.

Suddenly, the door to my room opened.

"Gregory?" my mother said, as light poured in from the corridor.

"What's wrong? I heard shouting." Shouting? That was new. Maybe the change skill wasn't as painless as advertised.

"It's nothing," I lied.

"I just had a nightmare."

"Well, what did I tell you about playing computer games all night?" The moment she found there was nothing serious, all of her sympathy vanished.

"Can't you go one day without playing like a maniac?" I remember the question was one of the reasons I used to get into fights with my parents. After all this time, it seemed outright stupid.

"Yes. I'll try," I said with sincerity. My mother's expression softened. My agreeing probably made her think there might be something wrong after all.

"I just need some more rest." I turned to the side to avoid a longer conversation. I wasn't in the state for that.

"Night." I missed you.

"Good night, Greg," she said. Waiting a few seconds longer, just to be sure I was fine, she closed the door. I remained still, eyes open.

"Damn you, Harlequin!" I whispered. Giving me a taste of what I missed, only to snatch it away. It was something only he would do. This time, though, I was going to find a way to make him pay.