My world was glass and gravel. My existence was a simple one: swim, nibble the greenish-brown algae coating the plastic castle, avoid the grumpy cat who would press his face against the tank for hours, and shit with a serene lack of self-consciousness. Such was the life of me, the common goldfish. If you're wondering "Hey, why is this fish so smart? Since when could fish talk, or even have a memory of more than 5 seconds?" Us fish could always talk, it's just that the human ears were too accustomed to speech to understand us.
My final memory was a moment of surprise to me. The Great Hand, which usually delivered my daily sprinkle of flakes, had fumbled. The entire canister of food—a massive mountain of sustenance—upended into the aquatic paradise I called home. It was a storm of sustenance, an apocalypse of abundance. My tiny, pea-sized fish brain, capable of processing only hunger, fear, and a vague appreciation for smooth pebbles, short-circuited.
The last thought to flicker through my neural pathways was not one of glory or gratitude, but a simple, panicked observation: *So… much… food…*
Then, darkness. And suddenly, in that darkness, a light appeared, and a voice rang in my head. "Would you like to continue?"
Consciousness returned not as a gentle tide, but as a violent, shattering light and a sensation of overwhelming dryness. I was no longer buoyant. I was heavy. I had… weird limbs. Five of them, if you counted the head, which felt terribly exposed without the protective cushion of water. I couldn't breathe, because my gills were gone. I was choking desperately, until I realised I could breathe the air. It wasn't something I did intentionally, it felt more like a reflex.
A wave of sound assaulted me—screams, roars, the splintering of stone. I was lying on cold, damp ground, my body clad in strange, black, form-fitting leather. Before I could even process the horror of my new form, a shadow fell over me.
It was a creature of nightmare, a being so antithetical to the clean, filtered environment of my tank that my new human mind recoiled. It was a hulking mass of green skin, dripping fangs and teeth, and bloodshot eyes. It smelled of bog and rotting meat. A Troll. The word appeared in my mind, but I've never heard of this term before… yet I knew everything about it? It seemed years of information were seeping into my brain, fragments of memories that weren't mine, knowledge that was far too complex for my old self to understand.
"Hunter! Get up!" a shrill voice screamed from somewhere to my left.
The Troll raised a club the size of a small car, ready to pulp my newly acquired skull. In that moment, death staring me in the face, my instincts took over. Not my human instincts—those were still booting up. No, these were the deep-seated, primordial instincts of a goldfish.
*See large, threatening shape? Flee.*
I didn't stand up. I didn't cast a spell. I flopped.
With a convulsive, full-bodied twitch, I threw myself to the side. It was an ungainly, desperate maneuver, a fish-out-of-water spasm. The club came down with a ground-shaking *BOOM*, right where my head had been, spraying me with dirt and pebbles.
The Troll, confused by my bizarre evasion technique, blinked its single eye. I flopped again, then a third time, a frantic, wriggling dance of panic. Each flop carried me just out of reach of its clumsy, powerful swings. I was, in essence, performing the piscine equivalent of a world-class combat dodge-roll.
"What the hell is he doing? Get up!!" a voice cried out. "By the gods, he's toying with it!" someone else yelled.
Toying? What??No. I was simply surviving. My new body, however, seemed to have its own ideas. As I flopped for the fifth time, a strange sensation began in my chest. It was a feeling of immense pressure, like a bubble rising to the surface. The world seemed to slow. The roaring of the Troll became a distant drone. My vision sharpened, and I could see the individual pores on its hideous face.
Suddenly, time seemed to stop, and a blue screen, crisp and rectangular, materialized in the center of my vision.
[ Basic Skill: Abyssal Aqua Cutter has been activated. ]
A… what now?
Before I could question the floating text, my right arm moved of its own accord. It rose, my index finger pointing at the Troll. The pressure in my chest burst, and a blade of water, so compressed it was nearly invisible, shot forth with a sound like a torn silk sheet. It wasn't a stream. It was a line, a razor-edge of pure water.
It passed through the Troll's neck without a sound.
For a moment, nothing happened. The Troll stood there, club still raised. Then, a thin red line appeared across its thick neck. Its eyes went dull. The massive head tilted, slid, and hit the ground with a wet thud, followed a second later by its body.
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. Until, the same blue screen popped up again, showing the text. "You have slain High Troll! +900 XP +1000 coins."
I lay on the ground, my body exhausted from the flopping and the… whatever that was. I stared at the dissipating water vapor in the air. I had just did something that could probably have sliced a mountain in half, and all I could think was: *I miss my castle.*
The other hunters, a motley crew in scarred leather and dented plate armor, approached me with a reverence usually reserved for deities and high-quality fish flakes.
"S-Sir Hunter… that was… an SSS-Rank skill!" a young woman with a bow stammered, her eyes wide. "We've never seen such power!"
Another man, a grizzled warrior with a broken sword, knelt. "To dispatch a High Troll with a single, casual gesture… Forgive us for our earlier doubt. We thought you were… well, flopping around in terror."
I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my movements still awkward. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak, gross sounding gurgle. I cleared my throat, a strange and novel sensation. "Food," I finally croaked, the most important word from my past . "Is there… food?"
They stared at me as if I'd just recited an ancient epic poem.
"Of course, my lord!" the grizzled warrior said, springing to his feet. "Your humble party will prepare a feast worthy of your stature at once! You must be conserving your energy after such a display!"
They scurried off, leaving me alone with the corpse of the Troll and the lingering scent of my own Aqua Cutter, which smelled faintly of a freshly cleaned tank. Familiar.
As I sat there, another blue screen popped up.
[ Congratulations! You have reached Level 99! ]
[ Title Earned: 'The Flopping Sovereign' ]
[ New Skill Unlocked: 'School of One' (Allows user to create after-images to confuse enemies.) ]
I ignored the screens. My new, complex human brain was finally starting to function, weaving together the threads of my past and present existence. I was now more than a goldfish. I had been reborn into a world of dungeons, monsters, and stats, a world that operated on the most clichéd narrative logic imaginable.
And as I watched my new party start a campfire with magical tinder, bickering over how to best season the rabbit they'd caught for my meal, a single, profound thought solidified in my mind, a thought far too complex for my old self, but perfectly suited to my new reality:
*This is all incredibly stupid. And I am very, very hungry.*