"WO~AH! We're halfway there! WO~AH! Livin' on a prayer!" I screamed alongside the radio.

My car was currently blazing down a county road, blaring Bon Jovi loud enough to give a rockstar a mild headache. It was 2130 and I could give less than a quarter of a shit about anything but a tv dinner and my bed right now.

Tonight was especially dark, despite it being a full moon. The sky was overcast, and trees hung over the road like a tunnel (not to mention the high-beams from my car totally eliminated my night vision). I was on the way home from an especially trying night at work, and I was on auto-pilot for the past half-hour.

Normally I could work a 48-hour shift with little problem (via military training and lots of coffee), but after having been out for so long, and being out of shape, I could barely make the drive home after a 12-hour shift. (thanks for being sick two days in a row, Greg!)

Working at a bookstore was nice, though. I didn’t have to work too hard, and I wouldn’t look lazy reading while on shift (if anything, it made me look more enthusiastic about my job). Though the bookstore had some decidedly odd hours (being open until 9PM), and I hated driving at night, I got time and a half for staying past eight hours. Greg being sick did get me more money, so I couldn’t complain too much. Any overtime I can get is really appreciated.

Thankfully the workday is over, and I can finally go home and sleep. Regrettably, my life never seemed to let me have a nice, simple day.

"Bon Jovi is the— SHIT!"

My car lurched into the air as I hit something, before slamming down with a loud *BANG*, producing the classic *thumpthumpthumpthump* that meant I had somehow blown out a tire. "God dammit! A fucking flat? Now?" I released an explosive sigh as I pulled the car over, just before a four-way intersection.

I quickly walked around to the back of the car, having been thoroughly awoken by the near-death experience. With no small amount of stress induced frustration, I angrily threw the trunk open—only to find my spare tire had hardly any air in it.

"There's just no rest for a poor old sinner, is there?"

"I would hardly consider twenty-three old, child."

I very slowly stood up and closed the trunk. Either a bum had snuck up on me in the middle of nowhere, or I was in some deep shit.

"There's no need to be afraid. I'm only here to give you a little test," the man sweetly said.

I turned to see that there was no man, but instead, a huge fucking cat sitting on the road. "Hmm, you seem less afraid, and more incredulous," the cat pondered.

"Dude, what the fuck?" I must be high.

"Yes," the cat replied, amused, "it is quite the sight for someone like you to see a talking jaguar, I would suppose."

I merely sat there, confused and irritated, while it leapt to the roof of my car. It landed silently, and turned to face me. "Would you like to know why I'm here?"

"Well— yeah, I mean— fuck dude! Am I fucking trashed behind the counter at work again? Are you my "spirit animal," or some shit?"

The jaguar chuckled into a paw before it decided to answer, "No, but your kind have seen beings like me when connected to the æther before— albeit much weaker beings, but the point stands."

"So does that mean I'm high right now?"

"Were you but that lucky," the cat replied solemnly, "No, I saved you from death back there on the road, so you are close enough to the æther that I may directly speak with you."

"Oh, well... fuck. Thanks, I guess."

"That is not the only reason I have called you here, I fear," he replied listlessly, "I have use of you yet."

"There's always a catch, isn't there?"

"Ha!" the cat shot with a smirk, "You are entirely too cynical, but there almost always is, yes."

The trunk popped open again, revealing a pair of arming swords. The blades hummed with an odd, cold blue hue, casting a faint glow around us. One of the blades floated over to me, allowing me to see its intricate golden filigree all along the length of the blade. The car died as the cat spoke again.

"As I said before, this is a test— one of skill, but most importantly will."

"So you want me to duel you with a sword?"

"Precisely," the cat praised.

"What do I get if I win?"

"Then you will be a mortal of unparalleled intellect and skill, reaching the fullest potential of any man and be free from the bonds of fate."

"Wow... What happens if I lose?"

"Then you will be the equivalent of a blood sacrifice, and will be my servant until the task I have assigned you is completed."

"...And if I refuse to participate because I just want a normal life?"

He simply grinned, "You're still alive, aren't you?"

I let loose a small sigh as I gently took the blade from the air. I gave it a gentle swing, feeling that it was quite a bit lighter than I expected (even though I knew it should only weigh about that much). I held it away from my face so it would leave my sight unaffected, though strangely it didn’t seem to harm my vision at all.

As I turned to look at the jaguar, it was gone, instead replaced by a dark skinned man in scorpion-pattern Army fatigues. The name tapes were too dark to read, but he looked like he was from central America. He held out his hand, allowing the other weapon to gently float to him.

"It has been some time since I last wore this form, though it has changed through the ages," he said, inspecting the blade with loving care, "I wondered when next a mortal would catch my eye, and it has been some time since last I met a warrior at a moonlit crossroads."

I merely swallowed heavily and tried to plant my feet in a descent fighting stance. I silently summoned any knowledge I had about sword fighting—from Youtube videos to a German sword manuscript I kinda read that one time.

"What's the matter? No furious screaming, or taunting words to try and goad me?" he chided.

"Only fools rush to a fight, or their death," I replied, barely managing to not visibly tremble.

"Wise," he said smirking, "but this isn't a contest of wisdom."

He moved very quickly, but not impossibly so. He led in with a thrust, which I bat aside with the base of the blade. He immediately followed with an upward diagonal slash across my torso, but I was able to step back fast enough to avoid it.

I could tell that he was going easy on me, from his grin to his slow, exaggerated movements. We were moving at a training pace, and I was thankfully managing to keep up. He continued guiding me with slow attacks, and lightning quick defence. Eventually, though, I messed up.

I went for a lunging stab, but I overextended. Before I could bring the blade back into a sloppy defence I vaguely remembered from that manuscript, he stepped in. He flowed like water around me, getting close enough that the tip of his blade could make a perfect push-cut on the back of my unprotected ankle.

The pain was cold, and sharp, yet wholly unlike any other knife wound I had until that point. It was intense and freezing like stepping in ice water, yet it seemed to spread slowly across my entire body. My opponent's face never lost its cheshire grin as he waited, patiently, for me to recover. As soon as I managed to right myself, he was on me again.

He was slow, and sloppy, telegraphing his attacks and timing them to a steady rhythm; thrust...
cut. thrust... cut. He even moved in a pattern, but it was all I could do to not be cut or run through by his amateur strikes. He was playing with me— or perhaps giving me a fair chance (after all, most people know even less than the paltry amount I kinda knew as a hobby).

Either way, it didn't matter— I'd lost. But the least I could do was form a draw— after all, I was already dead, right?

With a single desperate lunge, I threw myself on his sword and thrust wildly at him.

Unfortunately for me, he saw it coming, and thrust to meet me before stepping aside. Everything went cold, and the glow of the swords went dark. The clouds parted and allowed the moon to shine on the crossroads, painted with my blood.

"You are quite persistent, aren't you, Steven?"

I lost feeling in my torso, and fell over, practically paralyzed. A blood-filled cough was the only reply I could give him.

"Don't feel so down, Steven, you were already dead in the first place. I just wanted to try to give you a chance outside fate to win your life back."

Another bloody cough and wheezing was his only reply. I could feel myself drowning in my own blood.

"I will admit, it was perhaps unsporting of me to pick the game I did, but I already gave you a chance."

Silence.

"And hey, you might make some friends on your new life's mission."

Blackness— and I was dead. Nothingness surrounded me, and soon my soul would drift off to whatever it was that exis—

"What a drama queen!" admonished a new voice.

I wanted to open my eyes, but I couldn't, because I was dead. A sad fate, to be sure, but perhaps elysium or some other—

"Ugh! If you were dead, then how would you be able to hear me, or even think that?!"

I really wanted to tell him that I was dead, but I couldn't. After all, dead men tell no—

"He's right, you know, you aren't dead." It was the jaguar again.

"Mortals, they just never get it, do they?"

I could probably think of a witty retort, if I were alive... But I can't, because I'm dead.

"Well, if you won't wake up, I'll make you wake up!" the new voice shouted, shortly followed by a dull thump.

Ow, that hurt. But I didn't feel it be... wait.

"I think he's starting to come to..." the jaguar replied.

"A-am I...?"

"No, you're in purgatory, but you didn't cease to exist, like most mortals. If it's any consolation, you would have become nothing after you died had we not intervened."

I opened my eyes to see vast expanses of black in every direction, and then felt as if I were falling through an endless pit. "Oh."

I looked around in every direction to try and detect the new voice, yet there was nothing. I also noted that the jaguar was missing as well. Strangely , though, I could still see myself fine, almost like a cartoon.

"Worry not, mortal servant of mine, you will soon find your new place of duty, and there serve until I release you."

With a sigh, I simply fell through the void, allowing the gods to send me where they will.

"That's my lot in life, I suppose."

"Look on the bright side, kid, you'll get new powers, and live in a place of peace and harmony, and you might even get to be immortal!"

"What?"

"Damn it, Discord! He wasn't to know these things yet! You may have ruined my plans!" the jaguar shouted.

"Whoops," Discord shot.

"What did he mean?" I asked, very interested in the new turn of events.

With a sigh, he replied, "I am not sending you anywhere on "Earth," rather, you will be sent to a different place; a place called Mythas. Specifically the country of Equestria. It is the birthplace of all legends, including myself and Discord."

"W-why? What could you possibly want me to do there that you couldn't?"

"It has changed much, and it is no longer a home to the gods. Most of us have little to no influence there, and it has suffered for it."

"He's right," Discord sighed, "It's become a place of stagnation, and if left unchecked, it would tear itself apart in a maelstrom of chaotic backlash. The demigods who still live here are young and stupid, thinking that they're always right, and so they ignore what we have to say. I fear it will soon become a graveyard of immortal idiots."

"Wow. That sounds like it'll be tough..." In truth, it sounded damn impossible! But if an apparent god tells you to do something...

Jaguar sighed, "Which is why I will be granting you a substantial amount of power, enough to challenge those demigods, at least. Though be wary, the two most powerful, Celestia and Luna, will be quite the challenge."

"What do you mean by "power" exactly?"

“Why, magic, of course.”

I could suddenly feel thousands of words, symbols and voices filling my head, and just as quickly as they came, they were gone.

"Now go, mortal. Go and spread change across the land."

And then everything was black again.

Everything in Canterlot usually went according to schedule, barring unforeseen eldritch horrors intent on ruining the day. Most everypony in all Equestria saw this same level of peace, and it was good.

"Your Majesty?" Ah, another royal petitioner, here to see some issue resolved, no doubt. He wore the traditional garb of one of the members of the House of Commons.

I didn’t recognize him, and I was unlikely to. Most of the members of the House of Commons were continuously traded around due to the House of Nobles sowing dissent to keep them divided and weak. It was petty and disgustingly corrupt, but I had dug my own grave by allowing the ponies some hoof in their own governance.

The only way to change it now would be a despotic overthrow of the current system. While that might work, I’m afraid that the entire House of Nobles would band their private armies together and try to overthrow me. Naturally spinning it as them protecting the commoners from my sudden bout of madness brought about by either old age or magical corruption.

After all, it’s what I would do.

"Yes," his name escaped me, "good councilpony?"

"You were aware of the massive vortex forming over the Badlands, correct?"

I wasn't, actually. Not that some random nopony needed to know that. "Yes, of course," I lied.

"Ah, well... did you have some plan to do something about it?" My, how brave this one is! Most ponies would sooner slap their grandmother than directly question me. Though with total authority and deific powers, there was a reason for that.

"No, I didn't. I plan to let it happen, and deal with it afterwards if necessary." A simple plan that incorporates my current inaction without me looking foolish.

"Ah, I see. I suppose it is the Badlands, after all." Assigning me a noble motive, which was good. While he was a member of my court, I could trust that he did that out of a mutual interest. It didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have him constantly surveilled for signs of ambition or dissention, however.

"Your Grace!" Another pony beat down the door, huffing and puffing his way to the throne. He was another pony I didn’t recognize, but his armor and chevrons allowed me another easy out to address him by a title and not look callous or forgetful.

"Yes, sergeant?" If he was here for the reason I think he might be here, I would need to immediately start doing multiple kinds of damage control.

"A massive ball of energy has been shot from the vortex, and is headed for one of the frontier towns!"

"Oh," Shit.

Author's Note

Finally edited thanks to this glorious bastard!

(That was not intended to be a pun deriding his heritage, but I'm leaving it in anyway (because it's kinda funny ))

Your glorious author,

~Lonelydarkness