Note to Self: Dragons. Are. Pricks.

Finally, stumbling upon a small rocky outcropping for shelter, I dragged my master in from the storm and away from the edge of the cliff. He wasn't breathing. I removed his armor, slapped him hard across the face, and searched for a pulse. Don't know why I bothered; he was obviously dead as soon as the lightning struck, and I was no miracle worker. Besides, I didn't even like the guy. Just another master.

I eyed the scroll he still held clutched in his hand. All this fuss and hundreds of miles for a piece of paper. Legend or not, I couldn't imagine that it was worth it. I mean they had all died - every last one in the band of heroes who had set out to discover the wisdom of the dragon and ascend to conquer heaven. Horrifically killed. That's hubris for you. And now I - a lowly slave boy - I alone was left with the most powerful and sacred text known to man.

I thought about just chucking it since it was clearly cursed. My master had been struck down by heaven itself seconds after breaking the seal. I glanced around at my meager shelter. It probably wouldn't be enough to protect me, but maybe it didn't need to. The seal was already broken, and the storm outside... was it calming down?

"No." I said aloud, "No way am I touching that thing." I really don't know who I was trying to convince.

I went through my late master's pockets and retrieved some coins. Leaving the clunky too-big armor, I relieved him of his short sword and satchel. With the food and water it contained, I might just survive long enough to... go back to the same old dingy, thieving life I had before I was a slave.

This gave me pause for some reason. Inexplicably, that thought bothered me now. After all, why go back to begging and scrapping, when the jackpot was sitting right there in front of me? How much would someone pay for eternal life and divine power?

I must have stared at the scroll for a handful of minutes before saying, "Fleck it," and prying it loose from the dead man's hands. Just in case there was one more deadly surprise, I carefully laid it out on the ground and coaxed it open with the sword sheath.

There, written on shimmering silver paper, it read:

"If you are reading this scroll, odds are you have traveled long and far through many a trial and obstacle.

You have great aspirations.

You have proven your potential.

And yet it is not enough...

It never will be. You self-absorbed twit. Those who possess great ambition are seldom great people. In fact, in my vast experience over the centuries, I have found they usually end up being assholes. You are no exception, and your path inevitably leads to ruin. So here is my advice to you, be the kind of asshole you can live with because the satisfaction you seek is beyond you.

Regards and Condolences,

Great Black Dragon, Sarkath The Soulless"

For a moment, all I could do was sit there dumbfounded. Then I laughed. I laughed my bleeding heart out. "Some flecking wisdom! I could have told you that, ya bastard!"

In my dark fit of mirth, I picked up the scroll and turned it over, fully expecting it to be blank, but it wasn't. Instead, I found one line of text that floated off the page and seemed to hang in the air right in front of me even after I dropped the accursed paper in shock.

I heard the deafening sound of thunder and only had time for half a curse before the world went white. Only the floating words remained, still hovering in the center of my vision.

"Congratulations!" It said, "You have reached Level 2."