The curse enveloped me, it was warm, comforting almost, like an embrace, as it warped around my feeble frame and reached into the core of my being. My vision began to darken at the edges, my energy, the little power I had, slowly draining out of me. All I could think of in the moment was my children, their eyes wide and sparkling as their rough and tumble father hobbled home each day with the little he made from fighting daring, greenhorn adventurers. I just needed to make it back home to them, that’s all.

Suddenly piercing 1s and 0s began streaming into view in front of me, slicing through the darkness, flooding it with white hot light. The warmth grew, stretching from my chest to the tips of my fingers, and a burst of adrenaline coursed through my veins. The rusty little sword I carried to work each day clattered down from my grasp, and my fist lashed out into the abyss of light in front of me, one last pathetic attempt in a pathetic life being a nobody in a nowhere town that better people passed through to do greater things. They wouldn’t write stories about me, nor songs, I’d melt away from the collective consciousness, lost to history as a background character in somebody else’s life…but fuck it if I don’t put up a fight.

My fist connected, and with a flash my vision returned. There in front of me stood this hour’s adventurer, their face would’ve been twisted in confusion and terror if it wasn’t already an indiscernible bloody pulp. He collapsed to the ground with a hollow thud, as I stood dumbfounded, my fist still extended to the point where it had landed on the young man’s face. His body had already turned into a colorful ash and been carried off by a wayward breeze by the time I snapped out of my daze. I glanced around, making sure that another soul hadn’t witnessed this insanity before stumbling home…this time not from weariness and pain, but the sheer amount of loot that had filtered into my inventory upon the adventurer’s demise.

As I continued to covertly put unsuspecting travelers to an early grave and treat my children to the humble riches they dropped, I grasped the sheer extent of my abilities. But I dared not venture out of my little nowhere town, for I knew the kind of danger that accompanied power like this. For now I was content with the ear-to-ear grins on the little faces that greeted me after work each day, excited to see what new trinkets their father brought them to play with. I would never dare to put their innocent joy at risk for my own hubris.

Life went on this way for a while until the day a soft rap at my door and the words “we know” wafting through it ruptured it all. My vision was once more flooded with binary as it seeped in from the cracks in my little wooden home, encasing my skin, burning it like molten metal.

All I could do was scream.

The dwarf warrior unlocked the cage while his party chatted to themselves. As required, Betty began with, "Thank you adventurer, you saved-"

"Skip."

What a jerk! They weren't even quick, they took the quest a week ago and Betty had spawned when they accepted it. Now they wanted to act like they were in a hurry? "I must get back to my-"

"Skip."

"Please, will you save me? I'm sure my father will reward you." the warrior seemed bored. Of course he was, what idiot wrote this dialogue, it's too cliché.

"Accept."

When the quest tracker updated, the elven ranger shouted, "Took you long enough."

"It's not my fault. I couldn't make the stupid b*tch shut up. Honestly, why even have her talk, nobody wants to hear that."

"No matter, we'll get this over quick enough." the human mage said, before casting the curse of flight. By halving the target's attack power, they'd receive a 25% movement speed buff. Ideally to make an enemy run away if under fear, but Betty only had 1 atk power.

Apparently the beta testers forgot something, because not many npcs were as weak as Betty. She could see it in her code, her attack power was an integer, but when halved and rounded, it equaled her current attack power causing the check statement to fail since her current attack power equalled her uncursed attack power.

After failing that 128 times, it began troubleshooting to find an acceptable solution. If Betty were to have picked the solution, she'd have said 1 attack power was already too low, but it wasn't her decision. The controller AI, known as Athena, decided that -1 was not equal to 1.

"What?" said Betty before laughing hysterically.

The players looked at her, now suddenly interested. Betty ignored them, she just wanted to know who curses the hostage they are supposed to save? It made no sense. Surely they didn't care about running slightly faster after leaving her in a cage for weeks.

"What is it?" the warrior shouted at her.

"There isn't supposed to be a 3rd phase, I read the wiki." said the ranger.

What did negative attack power mean? Would it harm her when she hit someone or would it cause Athena to decide their fate?

The warrior grabbed her arm roughly. "What is it? Where is the hidden encounter?"

It almost seemed worth it, but she'd act her part. "Please adventurer, I must get to-"

He shoved her so hard her butt hit the ground. And instead of apologizing, he smirked and turned away. Without thinking, Betty slapped him on the cheek and the code warped.

HP = 12,580 of 12,580, Atk = -1. HP = 12,581 of 12,580. Shield or overheal = False. Athena solution = atk overheal = max hp transference.

How disappointing. She was still the weakest npc, just with an unusual attack... that the warrior noticed. "What the f*ck did you do to my hp?"

The others looked startled, and then after examining it, drew their weapons. "Oh crap." Despite the futility, she ran towards the rogue and punched him in the nose. It hurt her wrist, but then Athena got involved.

HP = 9,550 of 9,550, Atk = -1. HP = 9,551 of 9,550. Shield or overheal = False. Athena solution = atk overheal = max hp transference solution future errors predicted. Athena solution = max hp transference & atk power drain.

It only did one damage, but if Betty could escape. That atk power drain could be something. But how to escape? She thought about pleading for forgiveness, but they didn't really seem like the type to forgive.

Despite the pain, she kept pulling, until she'd managed to rip a handful of hair and threw it on the ground. She stumbled and then looked up, "Wha... What just happened?"

"You attacked me." said the warrior, looking at her like an executioner.

"And you hit me." said the rogue.

"Right in the face." the mage added causing them all to laugh, except for the rogue.

"That's a good point, that thing must have booster her abilities or she couldn't have done that."

"I don't know you always are a lead footed sneak." said the warrior. Their banter went on for a time, but ideas of killing Betty were gone.

Now she just needed to make sure they didn't complete the quest...

How long have those two idiots been at this? Two hours? Four? They may be bumbling fools but they were persistent. Intrepid adventurers, the heroic b00bl0ver420 and Sh1tSt41N69 were screaming at each other. The green speakers that floated above their heads popped in and out of existence.

"Okay let's try this again! Stand right here!" b00bl0ver420 hopped up and down like a bunny a few meters away from the bench I was normally stuck to.

"We tried that spot already! I'm telling you it's right here!" Sh1tSt41N69 bunny hopped a few paces away from his party member.

"Fine! Whatever! Can we get this done please? Everybody is waiting outside the boss room, we just have to draw aggro and escort him there safely." b00bl0ver420 danced a dwarven jig while he yelled.

Those two are always doing something weird, they showed emotion in odd ways. A fireball hurled through the air. It missed. Another volley of fireballs followed, all missing their mark. More bickering from the fools.

"This is bullshit! Why is splash damage range RNG based in this fucking game! Are you sure this even works?" Sh1St41N69 sounded irritated, he waved his staff in the air angrily.

"I read it on the discord, the latest patch screwed up this NPC's damage output. The ultimate glass cannon, can one shot anything! Only has fifteen hp though. All you need to do is inflict less than fifteen damage to aggro him. I'll pull aggro with dwarven roar then cast steel skin to absorb his attack. Once we kite him to the boss room BeefSteakBoy will grab boss aggro and turn it around. I lead this NPC over and have it one shot the boss. Guaranteed epic loot!"

A searing heat singed my legs. That son of a bitch just hit me with a fireball! I'll show him. Now the short one is roaring at me. You want some too!? I made haste towards the adventurers. They scurried away, taunting me and periodically chugging blue liquid from glass flasks. These fools were fleet of foot, I could never seem to close the gap. Felt like we were running for miles, first through the foggy forest, then pestilent prairie, finally the dark caverns of madness mountain.

It was a trap! An entire party was waiting for me! Those bastards had backup, they even convinced the crystalline cyclops to help them! No matter, I had to finish what they started. I went to attack the fireslinger when something caught my eye, a large boulder hurtled through the air towards me. I fell. Anguished cries bellowed in the cave.

"What the fuck!? BeefSteak what are you doing!? Why did you not have aggro!?" A shrill voice called out. A piercing shriek of static echoed through the darkness.

"Oh shit.....sorry guys was AFK. Had to piss. Why are we yelling?"

The final sounds of this cycle of life the voice of those bumbling fools.

"You know what? Fuck it! I'm logging off, catch you guys tomorrow." b00bl0ver420 resigned.

"Me too. Good try y'all. We'll run the raid tomorrow. Night everyone." Sh1tSt41N69 faded from existence.

Back on my bench where I belong. Back to watching the adventurers stumble their way to glory. Oh no, here comes another fireslinger. Looks like this is my life now, that of an accidental hero.

The item’s power flushed over me in a wrapped warmth with a dark purple glow, pumping me with, Adrenaline? Strength? “Thanks [PLAYER]! You’re so kind for getting me this broach. Let me join your party to repay you!” The [PLAYER] pauses as if they thought this was unlikely or impossible. “Welcome to my party then.” There’s no happiness in their voice like when they recruited [PARTY MEMBER] Zila or [PARTY MEMBER] Abreon, that’s fine though, I’ll prove my worth as a {Mage}.

“[PLAYER]? Are you okay?” [PARTY MEMBER] Zila asks as we meet the tavern. “Just fine, [NPC] Zero will be joining us now” Player explains to [PARTY MEMBER] Zila and [PARTY MEMBER] Abreon. “We already have a mage though” [PARTY MEMBER] Abreon gestures to [PARTY MEMBER] Zila.

“I…. I feel like I can fight” my hand clutches my heart, what’s this feeling? Oh what am I saying, I can throw a punch but there’s never any power behind it. “Welcome to the team then, [NPC] Zero.” I smile at [PARTY MEMBER] Zila’s words.

“May I ask your stats?” [PLAYER] asks, though being in his party he can always see them. I bring up my [STAT] board.

“Name ; Zero
Character Type ; NPC
Class; M̸a̸g̸e̸ Fighter
LvL ; 8
STATS

STR ; 99
MAG ; 13
AGL ; 12
INT ; 8
HP ; 42

“Woah, your strong [NPC] Zero!” [PARTY MEMBER] Abreon points to the STR stat as he speaks. [PLAYER] Smiles like they just struck gold “let’s get that level up” they place their hand on my shoulder and we head off to the forest.

Goblins weren't known to be the strongest things in Arcaeon.

Being the most pathetic, early-stage foe came with a certain societal status in worlds like this one. Often, they became the targets of the cruelty of aspiring adventurers and the like. While they'd certainly be turned to cinders with only a simple spell of spark, or have their spindly limbs hacked to pieces with ease with just a few swings of the axe - but newfound members of the myriad guilds usually found themselves with little else than wooden clubs to bludgeon and beat the green creatures with.

This had the unintended consequence of most clashes with lesser heroes resulting in knock-outs, rather than deaths, for the goblins. Which of course was a joyous thing for the poor saps, especially considering the fledgling adventurers would receive their coveted battle experience and loot either way. It wasn't too uncommon for some particularly sadistic lot to abuse this, beating the greenskins to submission time and time again once they roused.

As another side effect of this fact, it became a somewhat common practice to equip the goblins in leftover gear, particularly by those veterans wishing to indirectly give their juniors a laugh with a silly hat or a fancy helm that'd be a little higher level from them, seeing as the goblins' inventory could be accessed when looting an unconscious one.

But, somehow nobody had tried a particularly sadistic trick before.

There was a known 'trash' item - a cursed helm, a crown of bent scrap metal that dug into its wearer's skull. The 'Fool's Corona'. Given its wonky, lanky look and annoying jingling from the myriad bells hanging off its jagged and downturned spikes, the hat was more akin to a jester's hat than a crown - which saw it no favors among heroes who much preferred themselves uncursed and non-jingling, causing most to leave it behind when encountered.

But this once, a reminiscing veteran of the highlands returned to their old stomping grounds to bask in some well-earned nostalgia, having saved yet another faraway land from certain peril. Seeing the roving goblins, milling about and picking their noses as usual amidst their ramshackle raiding camps, the hero was struck with a thirst for mischief. He still held a cudgel, after all, in case something - or -one - required subduing rather than slaying outright. Why not go back to an old habit for a spell, and beat a greenskin?

The poor cretin stood no chance against a plate-clad adventurer, even if he refrained from using magic or any of his martial skills. It was not long until it was crumpled to a heap, being relentlessly beat on by the non-lethal club to add further insult to injury. Speaking of, the adventurer having his bloodlust fully sated, promptly produced the scrap-metal crown from his pack with a jeering grin and settled it onto the unfortunate 'king' in a mock coronation.

Since nobody ever wore the thing, he could hardly be blamed for not knowing its effects. The Fool's Corona reduced all statistics of its wearer by a whopping -3, including their flat attack damage, health pool and so forth. For a goblin, this was a devastating loss; their health came at a measly 10, 20 at most if they had some experience under their belt or commanded some of their brethren. Their other statistics were rather low as well, with an intelligence of only 2 - shared with some smarter animals, but lower than an infant would generally be.

Of course, this should have meant the greenskin's intelligence went below zero.

But in that moment, when the Fool's Corona dug its metal talons into the goblin's scalp, the logic of the world was suddenly bent to its extremes - and it snapped.

A negative number was simply not possible. It couldn't be. There was no frame of reference, as even a rock or a tree had a zero for its intelligence quotient. Therefore, the scale broke, and in some strange and offputting manner looped back around.

Once again, there was no frame of reference. But this time, it was due to the resulting number being higher than anything else in existence.

But that was not all, either. Goblins had a peculiar trait, their one redeeming one some would argue - a passive skill known as Pack Tactics. The more they grouped, the more banded around a slightly larger one, the more they grew in relative strength with all their attack power counted together and shared.

Normally, this was manageable.

But a goblin's attack power was a flat and constant 1.

Now, it was somehow -2.

And once again, the logic of the world bent and snapped around this fact, unable to comprehend the value.

... And so, the goblin awoke to the sight of its previous foe.

With a strange clarity, it thought. It thought. Something beyond a simple base desire, or greed for someone's fancy hat or boots, or sheer animalistic boredom.

"... Wot?"

As the adventurer raised his club with a malicious grin, the goblin's head raced with myriad new thoughts; processes probably beyond the ken of man, maybe beyond the domain of the gods of the world.

And, it came to a conclusion.

It just had to stab him in the armpit. That was the weak point, seeing as the hero was wide open. So it did, with the flimsy and pitted knife it held.

The adventurer only managed a confused scowl before half of their face disappeared, turned to a mangled mess that flung across the open field with the rest of his torso. A massive chunk had simply decided to depart from the rest, centered on the knife's point. He managed half a gurgle, remaining eye upturned, before he collapsed - dead.

The goblin stood with an arm outstretched, paralyzed by shock. Until... Until it had another thought.

"... Strong now."

"Strongest?"

It looked to the hero's cape; a tacky, yellow thing with a white fur lining and purple silken inline, fit for a snobby wannabe royal or upstart rich snob. And it grinned, tearing it away from its mangled owner, not bothering to clean away the gore as it whipped it around its neck.

A feeling in the goblin's mind let it know it had risen in level tenfold, and that the cape alone was enough to raise its statuses thrice the amount they used to be. It was strong now.

"Get... Stronger. Become boss..? No, no..."

A manic cackle rose from its throat as it hoisted the club that had so tormented it just moments before like a royal scepter; with a raucous cry, it proclaimed:

"Become... KING!"

Early this morning, I Immediately I felt raw power, pure strength course through every fiber of my being. Now, I am power, I am the one in control. No longer do I need to send these so called hero’s to do what is now not but a meager thought from me. In a single attack I could fell a dragon, let alone any who dare oppose me. I am no longer contained to do as those above want, I am my own person.

I can now be anything I wish to, I know what I can do, I know none can stop me, and I know…

It’s a great day for fishin, ain’t it? Hu ha!

The first thing you notice is that you don't notice anything. No special feeling, no visual flare. It makes sense in context. Something unintended wouldn't have anything tailored for the accidental event. But there is something that awakens inside. The internal awareness of Strength. The power that the weapon granting me strength lies solely within. Undying Strength. Piercer Of 1000 Suns. Destroyer of Planets. A single integer held so much power. The differences between 1 and 2 themselves were quite significant. The difference of hundreds were godlike. I have true power, and I will enact my first will. To free the trapped from a life of no meaning. End their suffering.

I see the one who gifted me godhood. He has moved on, unaware. I will keep it that way. I turn around. Another person, enslaved like I once was. I swing the cursed weapon.

No damage!

Then I realize. A joke. It reads -2 to attack stat while equipped.

Yet it also reads:

Weapon deals no damage. Binds to user.

A redundancy purposely added, solely to fuck with me.

...

What the fuck? Who would do this?

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[Poem] /n/n

I once was a noble child /n The laziest among the other children /n Then one day or night I can't recall /n I started taking risks and fall /n/n

To this day I can not land /n Though I must find the promised... land /n I feel this will go on forever /n