The last thing he remembered was the sound of the lottery wheel spinning.
Click-click-click. The sound echoed endlessly as he floated in a strange limbo after his untimely death—a mundane end, slipping on wet concrete and hitting his head. Hardly heroic. Hardly fair. And now, there was the wheel. Two wheels, actually. The first spun with the titles of strange worlds: Middle-Earth, Cyberpunk 2077, Westeros… And then it landed: Skyrim.
The second wheel spun, displaying words he didn't recognize: Xenogears, Keyblade Wielder, Mistborn, Feruchemy… It clicked into place: Mistborn and Feruchemy.
A smug, disembodied voice broke into his spiraling thoughts. "That's a solid system," the voice said, as though this were all some cosmic game show. "Good luck, champ."
"Wait! What do you mean? What system? What's Skyrim? And what's Feruchemy?!" But the voice was gone.
The next thing he knew, he was standing in a snowy forest, cold biting through the thin tunic he was inexplicably wearing. His boots crunched on the frost-covered ground. Snow-laden pines surrounded him in every direction, with no sign of civilization in sight.
A bag lay beside him in the snow. Intrigued—and with little else to do—he opened it. Inside was a small assortment of metal vials, metallic studs, and a card. He picked it up, reading aloud:
"I won't bore you with the intricacies of Allomancy and Feruchemy. I'll let you figure that out yourself. Simply put:
Allomancy lets you burn metals in your stomach, each granting a different power.
Feruchemy lets you store certain attributes of yourself—strength, speed, health—for later use.
Combine them. Get creative. Best of luck!"
He stared at the card, dumbfounded. "Burn metals? Store… what?" He felt his patience already thinning. Whoever had orchestrated this afterlife was clearly having a good laugh at his expense. He could've been in heaven, or nothingness, or… whatever came next. But no. He was here. In the middle of a snow-covered nowhere. With a "bag of tricks" and no manual.
He picked up one of the vials, holding it to the light. Tiny flakes of metals swirled within the liquid—zinc, steel, pewter, who knew? After a moment's hesitation, he downed it. The taste was metallic, sharp, but strangely invigorating. He could feel the metals in his stomach like tiny sparks of potential energy, each one waiting for him to do… something.
He closed his eyes and focused, instinctively reaching for one of the metals. The sensation was foreign but natural, like flexing a muscle he didn't know he had. He pushed against it.
The world erupted into a barrage of sensation.
The cold, already biting, now felt like needles stabbing into his skin. Every gust of wind was a whip of ice against his face. He clenched his jaw, his teeth aching from the chill. The snow beneath his boots felt more real, every grain of frost a distinct, stinging texture against his soles.
The sun, low in the sky, became an unbearable glare. Even through the haze of snow-covered trees, it seared his vision like a firebrand, forcing him to squint and shield his eyes. The shadows cast by the pines seemed unnaturally sharp, every edge too crisp and defined.
Then came the sounds.
He could hear everything. The whisper of wind through branches. The soft crunch of snow beneath distant hooves. The frantic beating of a bird's wings as it flitted through the canopy. And then, much farther out—a low, guttural growl.
It all slammed into him at once, a storm of overwhelming sensation. He staggered back, clutching his head as his mind struggled to process the onslaught. His stomach churned, the taste of metal on his tongue almost nauseating now.
"Stop, stop, stop!" he muttered, forcing himself to back away from the metal's power. The sensations faded gradually, leaving him gasping for breath. His head throbbed, and his hands trembled as he braced himself against a nearby tree.
"Okay," he rasped. "Don't do that again."
He took a moment to recover, looking back at the vials in the bag. If one metal could amplify his senses like that, what could the others do? Did he even want to find out?
A distant howl pierced the air—a real one this time. His heart jumped into his throat as the sound repeated, closer now. Wolves. Multiple.
"Of course," he muttered, pulling the bag onto his shoulder. He glanced at the remaining vials, deliberating. "If one of you can make me hear too much, maybe another can keep me from being eaten…"
With no other choice, he grabbed another vial and downed it. His instincts told him to reach for a different metal this time, one that felt heavier, stronger. The sensation was immediate—like a rush of heat spreading through his body. His limbs felt stronger, his heart steadier. Whatever this metal was, it might just give him a fighting chance.
The howl came again, closer this time, and it wasn't alone. A second, then a third voice joined the chorus, their eerie cries echoing through the forest.
He didn't have time to overthink. Grabbing the bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he focused on the metal still burning faintly in his stomach. He'd pushed too hard earlier, nearly overwhelming himself. Now, he forced himself to ease into it, like dialing down the volume of a roaring speaker.
The sensation returned, softer but controlled. The cold didn't bite as hard, the sun wasn't as blinding, and the sounds around him balanced into clarity instead of chaos. The pounding of paws in the distance sent a jolt of panic through his chest.
"Time to go," he muttered, turning and running.
As he sprinted, he instinctively burned another metal—a different one. His legs surged with strength, his feet pushing off the snow like a spring-loaded mechanism. Each step propelled him faster, the trees blurring as he bolted through the forest. His breaths came fast but steady, his heart pounding with a controlled rhythm that matched the energy coursing through his veins.
Behind him, the wolves howled again, closer now. They had picked up his scent and were giving chase. He risked a glance back and caught sight of dark shapes weaving between the trees. Their eyes gleamed in the shadowy forest, hungry and unrelenting.
"Oh, come on!" he shouted, pushing himself harder. The metal in his stomach burned brighter, his speed increasing as the wolves closed the gap. He leaped over a fallen log, the bag on his shoulder bouncing against his back. His enhanced senses caught the faint whistle of an arrow-like branch snapping underfoot as the wolves surged after him.
The forest thinned ahead, opening into a small clearing. He burst into the open, snow kicking up in a spray around him. His mind raced. Where do I go? What do I do? He couldn't outrun them forever, and they were closing in. The pack's growls were a snarling wall of sound just behind him.
Skidding to a halt, he turned to face them. Five wolves emerged from the trees, their sleek forms stark against the white snow. Their eyes glowed with predatory intensity as they spread out, circling him. He backed up slowly, reaching into the bag and pulling out one of the metal studs. It was small, round, and completely unfamiliar, but it was all he had.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see if this works."
Burning the metal in his stomach again, he focused the energy into his limbs, crouching low. When the first wolf lunged, he dodged with ease, the world seeming to slow for a split second as his reflexes sharpened. His fist lashed out, punching the wolf mid-leap. It yelped and tumbled into the snow.
The second wolf was on him before he could recover, jaws snapping at his arm. He twisted away, narrowly avoiding the teeth, and kicked out with strength that sent the wolf flying. He burned another metal, his senses flaring even brighter. Now he could see every movement, hear every growl, feel every shift of snow underfoot.
The remaining wolves hesitated, circling warily. He growled back at them, the adrenaline pumping through his veins making him feel feral himself. When the next wolf lunged, he used his enhanced speed to sidestep and grab it by the scruff, slamming it into the ground. A sharp pain flared in his side as another wolf bit into him from behind. He roared in pain and spun, flinging the creature off. Blood trickled down his tunic, hot against the cold air, but he ignored it, focusing on survival.
One by one, the wolves fell back, either too injured or too spooked to continue. Their snarls turned to whimpers as they retreated into the woods. He stood there, panting, the burning metals in his stomach starting to wane.
"Not bad for my first fight," he said, wincing as he clutched his side. "But I really need to figure this out before I get killed."
He dropped to one knee in the snow, rummaging through the bag. His hands found the card, and he flipped it over. His eyes scanned the text on the back, frustration building with each line:
Allomancy Quick Guide:
Iron: Pulls nearby metals toward you.
Steel: Pushes metals away from you.
Pewter: Increases strength, endurance, and physical resilience.
Tin: Enhances your senses.
Zinc: Riots emotions of people around you.
Brass: Soothes emotions.
Copper: Shields you from magic detection.
Bronze: Detects nearby Allomancy/magic.
Feruchemy Quick Guide:
Store attributes like:
Speed
Strength
Health
Vision
(Requires specialized metalmind to store or draw from.)
At the bottom, written in slightly smaller font, was a final note:
PS: Don't push on the metals too hard.
PSS: HA! I just wanted you to get this info after your little chase in the woods. Go find the road and take a right.
He stared at the last line, his breath puffing in the frigid air. "Oh, now you tell me," he muttered, slumping against a tree. The wolves were gone, but the adrenaline was fading, leaving him acutely aware of the cold and his injuries.
"Skyrim," he said, looking around the snowy wilderness. "Not exactly a warm welcome."
Tucking the card back into the bag, he grabbed another vial, downing it with a grimace. It looked like he'd have to master this system fast—or die trying.