Dumbledor die on page 596.
Kakyoin dies.
Polnareff dies in part 5.
Cole Phelps drowns in a sewer at the end of the game.
The Universe gets reset in part 6.
You were Comstock the entire time.
Eleanor was the first big sister you encountered, she kills you.

Open door, so I walk inside
Close my eyes, find my place to hide
And I shake as I take it in
Let the show begin

Open my eyes just to have them close again
Well on my way, but on my way to where I’ve been
It swallows me as it takes me in its fog
I twist away as I give this world the nod

Open door, so I walk inside
Close my eyes, find my place to hide
And I shake as I take it in
Let the show begin

Open my eyes just to have them closed once again
Don’t want control
As it takes me down and down and down again
Is that the moon or just a light that lights this dead-end street?
Is that you there or just another demon that I meet?

The higher you are
The farther you fall
The longer the walk
The farther you crawl
My body, my temple
This temple, it tilts
Step into the house that Jack built

The higher you are
The farther you fall
The longer the walk
The farther you crawl
My body, my temple
This temple, it tilts
Yes, this is the house that Jack built

Open door, yes, I walk inside
Swallow me so the pain subsides
And I shake as I take the sin
Let the show begin

The higher you are
The farther you fall
The longer the walk
The farther you crawl
My body, my temple
This temple, it tilts
Yes, this is the house that Jack built

The higher you are
The farther you fall
The longer the walk
The farther you crawl
My body, my temple
This temple, it tilts
Yes, I am, I am, I am

Open my eyes
It swallows me
Is that you there
I twist away
Away
Away
Away

Wish I may, wish I might
Have this I wish tonight
Are you satisfied?
Dig for gold, dig for fame
You dig to make your name
Are you pacified?

All the wants you waste
All the things you’ve chased

Then it all crashes down
And you break your crown
And you point your finger
But there’s no one around
Just want one thing
Just to play the king
But the castle’s crumbled
And you’re left with just a name

Where’s your crown,
King Nothing?
Where’s your crown?

Hot and cold, bought and sold
A heart as hard as gold
Are you satisfied?
Wish I might, wish I may
You wish your life away
Are you pacified?

All the wants you waste
All the things you’ve chased

Then it all crashes down
And you break your crown
And you point your finger
But there’s no one around
Just want one thing
Just to play the king
But the castle’s crumbled
And you’re left with just a name
Where’s your crown, King Nothing?
Where’s your crown?

I wish I may, I wish I might
Have this wish I wish tonight
I want that star, I want it now
I want it all and I don’t care how

Careful what you wish
Careful what you say
Careful what you wish, you may regret it
Careful what you wish, you just might get it

Then it all crashes down
And you break your crown
And you point your finger
But there’s no one around
Just want one thing
Just to play the king
But the castle’s crumbled
And you’re left with just a name

Where’s your crown, King Nothing?

Nothing

You’re just nothing
Where’s your crown, King Nothing?
You’re just nothing
Absolutely nothing

Off to never-never land

alright partner keep on rollin' baby you know what time
it is chocolate starfish keep on rollin' baby move in,
now move out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now breathe in,
now breathe out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now keep rollin',
rollin', rollin', rollin' (what)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (come on)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (yeah)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin'
now i know y'all be lov'in this shit right here
l.i.m.p bizkit is right here people in the house put them hands in the air
cause if you don't care, then we don't care 1, 2, 3,
times two to the six jonesin' for your fix of that limp bizkit mix so
where the fuck you at punk, shut the fuck up and back the fuck up,
while we fuck this track up now move in,
now move out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now breathe in,
now breathe out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now keep rollin',
rollin', rollin', rollin' (what)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (come on)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (yeah)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin'
you wanna mess with limp bizkit (yeah)
you can't mess with limp bizkit (why)
because we get it on every day, and every night (oh)
and this platinum thing right here (uh, huh)
yo we're doin' it all the time (what) so you better get some beats
and a some better rhymes (dough) we got the gang set so
don't complain yet twenty four seven never beggin'
for a rain check old school soldiers blastin' out the hot shit
that rock shit puttin' bounce in the mosh pit now move in,
now move out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now breathe in,
now breathe out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now keep rollin',
rollin', rollin', rollin' (come on)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (what)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (yeah)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' hey ladies,
hey fellas and the people that don't give a fuck all the lovers,
all the haters and all the people that call themselves play-ers hot mamas,
pimp daddies and the people rollin' up in caddies hey rockers,
hip hoppers and everybody all around the world now move in,
now move out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now breathe in,
now breathe out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now keep rollin',
rollin', rollin', rollin' (yeah)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (what)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (come on)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' now move in,
now move out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now breathe in,
now breathe out hands up or hands down back up,
back up tell me what ya gonna do now keep rollin',
rollin', rollin', rollin' (come on)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (what)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin' (yeah)
keep rollin', rollin', rollin', rollin

Of the pleasures and pains of opium much has been written. The ecstasies and horrors of De Quincey and the paradis artificiels of Baudelaire are preserved and interpreted with an art which makes them immortal, and the world knows well the beauty, the terror, and the mystery of those obscure realms into which the inspired dreamer is transported. But much as has been told, no man has yet dared intimate the nature of the phantasms thus unfolded to the mind, or hint at the direction of the unheard-of roads along whose ornate and exotic course the partaker of the drug is so irresistibly borne. De Quincey was drawn back into Asia, that teeming land of nebulous shadows whose hideous antiquity is so impressive that “the vast age of the race and name overpowers the sense of youth in the individual”, but farther than that he dared not go. Those who have gone farther seldom returned; and even when they have, they have been either silent or quite mad. I took opium but once—in the year of the plague, when doctors sought to deaden the agonies they could not cure. There was an overdose—my physician was worn out with horror and exertion—and I travelled very far indeed. In the end I returned and lived, but my nights are filled with strange memories, nor have I ever permitted a doctor to give me opium again.
The pain and pounding in my head had been quite unendurable when the drug was administered. Of the future I had no heed; to escape, whether by cure, unconsciousness, or death, was all that concerned me. I was partly delirious, so that it is hard to place the exact moment of transition, but I think the effect must have begun shortly before the pounding ceased to be painful. As I have said, there was an overdose; so my reactions were probably far from normal. The sensation of falling, curiously dissociated from the idea of gravity or direction, was paramount; though there was a subsidiary impression of unseen throngs in incalculable profusion, throngs of infinitely diverse nature, but all more or less related to me. Sometimes it seemed less as though I were falling, than as though the universe or the ages were falling past me. Suddenly my pain ceased, and I began to associate the pounding with an external rather than internal force. The falling had ceased also, giving place to a sensation of uneasy, temporary rest; and when I listened closely, I fancied the pounding was that of the vast, inscrutable sea as its sinister, colossal breakers lacerated some desolate shore after a storm of titanic magnitude. Then I opened my eyes.
For a moment my surroundings seemed confused, like a projected image hopelessly out of focus, but gradually I realised my solitary presence in a strange and beautiful room lighted by many windows. Of the exact nature of the apartment I could form no idea, for my thoughts were still far from settled; but I noticed vari-coloured rugs and draperies, elaborately fashioned tables, chairs, ottomans, and divans, and delicate vases and ornaments which conveyed a suggestion of the exotic without being actually alien. These things I noticed, yet they were not long uppermost in my mind. Slowly but inexorably crawling upon my consciousness, and rising above every other impression, came a dizzying fear of the unknown; a fear all the greater because I could not analyse it, and seeming to concern a stealthily approaching menace—not death, but some nameless, unheard-of thing inexpressibly more ghastly and abhorrent.
Presently I realised that the direct symbol and excitant of my fear was the hideous pounding whose incessant reverberations throbbed maddeningly against my exhausted brain. It seemed to come from a point outside and below the edifice in which I stood, and to associate itself with the most terrifying mental images. I felt that some horrible scene or object lurked beyond the silk-hung walls, and shrank from glancing through the arched, latticed windows that opened so bewilderingly on every hand. Perceiving shutte

High up, crowning the grassy summit of a swelling mound whose sides are wooded near the base with the gnarled trees of the primeval forest, stands the old chateau of my ancestors. For centuries its lofty battlements have frowned down upon the wild and rugged countryside about, serving as a home and stronghold for the proud house whose honoured line is older even than the moss-grown castle walls. These ancient turrets, stained by the storms of generations and crumbling under the slow yet mighty pressure of time, formed in the ages of feudalism one of the most dreaded and formidable fortresses in all France. From its machicolated parapets and mounted battlements Barons, Counts, and even Kings had been defied, yet never had its spacious halls resounded to the footsteps of the invader.
But since those glorious years all is changed. A poverty but little above the level of dire want, together with a pride of name that forbids its alleviation by the pursuits of commercial life, have prevented the scions of our line from maintaining their estates in pristine splendour; and the falling stones of the walls, the overgrown vegetation in the parks, the dry and dusty moat, the ill-paved courtyards, and toppling towers without, as well as the sagging floors, the worm-eaten wainscots, and the faded tapestries within, all tell a gloomy tale of fallen grandeur. As the ages passed, first one, then another of the four great turrets were left to ruin, until at last but a single tower housed the sadly reduced descendants of the once mighty lords of the estate.
It was in one of the vast and gloomy chambers of this remaining tower that I, Antoine, last of the unhappy and accursed Comtes de C——, first saw the light of day, ninety long years ago. Within these walls, and amongst the dark and shadowy forests, the wild ravines and grottoes of the hillside below, were spent the first years of my troubled life. My parents I never knew. My father had been killed at the age of thirty-two, a month before I was born, by the fall of a stone somehow dislodged from one of the deserted parapets of the castle; and my mother having died at my birth, my care and education devolved solely upon one remaining servitor, an old and trusted man of considerable intelligence, whose name I remember as Pierre. I was an only child, and the lack of companionship which this fact entailed upon me was augmented by the strange care exercised by my aged guardian in excluding me from the society of the peasant children whose abodes were scattered here and there upon the plains that surround the base of the hill. At the time, Pierre said that this restriction was imposed upon me because my noble birth placed me above association with such plebeian company. Now I know that its real object was to keep from my ears the idle tales of the dread curse upon our line, that were nightly told and magnified by the simple tenantry as they conversed in hushed accents in the glow of their cottage hearths.
Thus isolated, and thrown upon my own resources, I spent the hours of my childhood in poring over the ancient tomes that filled the shadow-haunted library of the chateau, and in roaming without aim or purpose through the perpetual dusk of the spectral wood that clothes the side of the hill near its foot. It was perhaps an effect of such surroundings that my mind early acquired a shade of melancholy. Those studies and pursuits which partake of the dark and occult in Nature most strongly claimed my attention.
Of my own race I was permitted to learn singularly little, yet what small knowledge of it I was able to gain, seemed to depress me much. Perhaps it was at first only the manifest reluctance of my old preceptor to discuss with me my paternal ancestry that gave rise to the terror which I ever felt at the mention of my great house; yet as I grew out of childhood, I was able to piece together disconnected fragments of discourse, let slip from the unwilling tongue which had begun t

I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why. It is altogether against my will that I tell my reasons for opposing this contemplated invasion of the antarctic—with its vast fossil-hunt and its wholesale boring and melting of the ancient ice-cap—and I am the more reluctant because my warning may be in vain. Doubt of the real facts, as I must reveal them, is inevitable; yet if I suppressed what will seem extravagant and incredible there would be nothing left. The hitherto withheld photographs, both ordinary and aërial, will count in my favour; for they are damnably vivid and graphic. Still, they will be doubted because of the great lengths to which clever fakery can be carried. The ink drawings, of course, will be jeered at as obvious impostures; notwithstanding a strangeness of technique which art experts ought to remark and puzzle over.
In the end I must rely on the judgment and standing of the few scientific leaders who have, on the one hand, sufficient independence of thought to weigh my data on its own hideously convincing merits or in the light of certain primordial and highly baffling myth-cycles; and on the other hand, sufficient influence to deter the exploring world in general from any rash and overambitious programme in the region of those mountains of madness. It is an unfortunate fact that relatively obscure men like myself and my associates, connected only with a small university, have little chance of making an impression where matters of a wildly bizarre or highly controversial nature are concerned.
It is further against us that we are not, in the strictest sense, specialists in the fields which came primarily to be concerned. As a geologist my object in leading the Miskatonic University Expedition was wholly that of securing deep-level specimens of rock and soil from various parts of the antarctic continent, aided by the remarkable drill devised by Prof. Frank H. Pabodie of our engineering department. I had no wish to be a pioneer in any other field than this; but I did hope that the use of this new mechanical appliance at different points along previously explored paths would bring to light materials of a sort hitherto unreached by the ordinary methods of collection. Pabodie’s drilling apparatus, as the public already knows from our reports, was unique and radical in its lightness, portability, and capacity to combine the ordinary artesian drill principle with the principle of the small circular rock drill in such a way as to cope quickly with strata of varying hardness. Steel head, jointed rods, gasoline motor, collapsible wooden derrick, dynamiting paraphernalia, cording, rubbish-removal auger, and sectional piping for bores five inches wide and up to 1000 feet deep all formed, with needed accessories, no greater load than three seven-dog sledges could carry; this being made possible by the clever aluminum alloy of which most of the metal objects were fashioned. Four large Dornier aëroplanes, designed especially for the tremendous altitude flying necessary on the antarctic plateau and with added fuel-warming and quick-starting devices worked out by Pabodie, could transport our entire expedition from a base at the edge of the great ice barrier to various suitable inland points, and from these points a sufficient quota of dogs would serve us.
We planned to cover as great an area as one antarctic season—or longer, if absolutely necessary—would permit, operating mostly in the mountain-ranges and on the plateau south of Ross Sea; regions explored in varying degree by Shackleton, Amundsen, Scott, and Byrd. With frequent changes of camp, made by aëroplane and involving distances great enough to be of geological significance, we expected to unearth a quite unprecedented amount of material; especially in the pre-Cambrian strata of which so narrow a range of antarctic specimens had previously been secured. We wished also to obtain as great as possibl

When age fell upon the world, and wonder went out of the minds of men; when grey cities reared to smoky skies tall towers grim and ugly, in whose shadow none might dream of the sun or of spring’s flowering meads; when learning stripped earth of her mantle of beauty, and poets sang no more save of twisted phantoms seen with bleared and inward-looking eyes; when these things had come to pass, and childish hopes had gone away forever, there was a man who travelled out of life on a quest into the spaces whither the world’s dreams had fled.
Of the name and abode of this man but little is written, for they were of the waking world only; yet it is said that both were obscure. It is enough to know that he dwelt in a city of high walls where sterile twilight reigned, and that he toiled all day among shadow and turmoil, coming home at evening to a room whose one window opened not on the fields and groves but on a dim court where other windows stared in dull despair. From that casement one might see only walls and windows, except sometimes when one leaned far out and peered aloft at the small stars that passed. And because mere walls and windows must soon drive to madness a man who dreams and reads much, the dweller in that room used night after night to lean out and peer aloft to glimpse some fragment of things beyond the waking world and the greyness of tall cities. After years he began to call the slow-sailing stars by name, and to follow them in fancy when they glided regretfully out of sight; till at length his vision opened to many secret vistas whose existence no common eye suspects. And one night a mighty gulf was bridged, and the dream-haunted skies swelled down to the lonely watcher’s window to merge with the close air of his room and make him a part of their fabulous wonder.
There came to that room wild streams of violet midnight glittering with dust of gold; vortices of dust and fire, swirling out of the ultimate spaces and heavy with perfumes from beyond the worlds. Opiate oceans poured there, litten by suns that the eye may never behold and having in their whirlpools strange dolphins and sea-nymphs of unrememberable deeps. Noiseless infinity eddied around the dreamer and wafted him away without even touching the body that leaned stiffly from the lonely window; and for days not counted in men’s calendars the tides of far spheres bare him gently to join the dreams for which he longed; the dreams that men have lost. And in the course of many cycles they tenderly left him sleeping on a green sunrise shore; a green shore fragrant with lotus-blossoms and starred by red camalotes.

On the eve of the year 2001 a vast crowd of interested spectators were present amidst the romantic ruins of Cohen’s Garage, on the former site of New York, to witness a fistic encounter between two renowned champions of the strange-story firmament—Two-Gun Bob, the Terror of the Plains, and Knockout Bernie, the Wild Wolf of West Shokan. [The Wolf was fresh from his correspondence course in physical training, sold to him by Mr. Arthur Leeds.] Before the battle the auguries were determined by the venerated Thibetan Lama Bill Lum Li, who evoked the primal serpent-god of Valusia and found unmistakable signs of victory for both sides. Cream-puffs were inattentively vended by Wladislaw Brenryk—the partakers being treated by the official surgeons, Drs. D. H. Killer and M. Gin Brewery.
The gong was sounded at 39 o’clock, after which the air grew red with the gore of battle, lavishly flung about by the mighty Texas slaughterer. Very shortly the first actual damage occurred—the loosening of several teeth in both participants. One, bouncing out from the Wolf’s mouth after a casual tap from Two-Gun, described a parabola toward Yucatan; being retrieved in a hasty expedition by Messrs. A. Hijacked Barrell and G. A. Scotland. This incident was used by the eminent sociologist and ex-poet Frank Chimesleep Short, Jr., as the basis of a ballad of proletarian propaganda with three intentionally defective lines. Meanwhile a potentate from a neighbouring kingdom, the Effjay of Akkamin (also known to himself as an amateur critic), expressed his frenzied disgust at the technique of the combatants, at the same time peddling photographs of the fighters (with himself in the foreground) at five cents each.
In round two the Shokan Soaker’s sturdy right crashed through the Texan’s ribs and became entangled in sundry viscera; thereby enabling Two-Gun to get in several telling blows on his opponent’s unprotected chin. Bob was greatly annoyed by the effeminate squeamishness shewn by several onlookers as muscles, glands, gore, and bits of flesh were spattered over the ringside. During this round the eminent magazine-cover anatomist Mrs. M. Blunderage portrayed the battlers as a pair of spirited nudes behind a thin veil of conveniently curling tobacco-smoke, while the late Mr. C. Half-Cent provided a sketch of three Chinamen clad in silk hats and galoshes—this being his own original conception of the affray. Among the amateur sketches made was one by Mr. Goofy Hooey, which later gained fame in the annual Cubist exhibit as “Abstraction of an Eradicated Pudding”.
In the third round the fight grew really rough; several ears and other appurtenances being wholly or partially detached from the frontier battler by the Shokan Shocker. Somewhat irritated, Two-Gun countered with some exceptionally sharp blows; severing many fragments from his aggressor, who continued to fight with all his remaining members. [At this stage the audience gave signs of much nervous excitement—instances of trampling and goring being frequent. The more enthusiastic members were placed in the custody of Mr. Harry Brobst of the Butler Hospital for Mental Diseases.]
The entire affair was reported by Mr. W. Lablache Talcum, his copy being revised by Horse Power Hateart. Throughout the event notes were taken by M. le Comte d’Erlette for a 200-volume novel-cycle in the Proustian manner, to be entitled Morning in September, with illustrations by Mrs. Blunderage. Mr. J. Caesar Warts frequently interviewed both battlers and all the more important spectators; obtaining as souvenirs (after a spirited struggle with the Effjay) an autographed quarter-rib of Two-Gun’s, in an excellent state of preservation, and three finger-nails from the Wild Wolf. Lighting effects were supplied by the Electrical Testing Laboratories under the supervision of H. Kanebrake. The fourth round was prolonged eight hours at the request of the official artist, Mr. H. Wanderer, who wished to put certain shadings

The horrible conclusion which had been gradually obtruding itself upon my confused and reluctant mind was now an awful certainty. I was lost, completely, hopelessly lost in the vast and labyrinthine recesses of the Mammoth Cave. Turn as I might, in no direction could my straining vision seize on any object capable of serving as a guidepost to set me on the outward path. That nevermore should I behold the blessed light of day, or scan the pleasant hills and dales of the beautiful world outside, my reason could no longer entertain the slightest unbelief. Hope had departed. Yet, indoctrinated as I was by a life of philosophical study, I derived no small measure of satisfaction from my unimpassioned demeanour; for although I had frequently read of the wild frenzies into which were thrown the victims of similar situations, I experienced none of these, but stood quiet as soon as I clearly realised the loss of my bearings.
Nor did the thought that I had probably wandered beyond the utmost limits of an ordinary search cause me to abandon my composure even for a moment. If I must die, I reflected, then was this terrible yet majestic cavern as welcome a sepulchre as that which any churchyard might afford; a conception which carried with it more of tranquility than of despair.
Starving would prove my ultimate fate; of this I was certain. Some, I knew, had gone mad under circumstances such as these, but I felt that this end would not be mine. My disaster was the result of no fault save my own, since unbeknown to the guide I had separated myself from the regular party of sightseers; and, wandering for over an hour in forbidden avenues of the cave, had found myself unable to retrace the devious windings which I had pursued since forsaking my companions.
Already my torch had begun to expire; soon I would be enveloped by the total and almost palpable blackness of the bowels of the earth. As I stood in the waning, unsteady light, I idly wondered over the exact circumstances of my coming end. I remembered the accounts which I had heard of the colony of consumptives, who, taking their residence in this gigantic grotto to find health from the apparently salubrious air of the underground world, with its steady, uniform temperature, pure air, and peaceful quiet, had found, instead, death in strange and ghastly form. I had seen the sad remains of their ill-made cottages as I passed them by with the party, and had wondered what unnatural influence a long sojourn in this immense and silent cavern would exert upon one as healthy and as vigorous as I. Now, I grimly told myself, my opportunity for settling this point had arrived, provided that want of food should not bring me too speedy a departure from this life.
As the last fitful rays of my torch faded into obscurity, I resolved to leave no stone unturned, no possible means of escape neglected; so summoning all the powers possessed by my lungs, I set up a series of loud shoutings, in the vain hope of attracting the attention of the guide by my clamour. Yet, as I called, I believed in my heart that my cries were to no purpose, and that my voice, magnified and reflected by the numberless ramparts of the black maze about me, fell upon no ears save my own. All at once, however, my attention was fixed with a start as I fancied that I heard the sound of soft approaching steps on the rocky floor of the cavern. Was my deliverance about to be accomplished so soon? Had, then, all my horrible apprehensions been for naught, and was the guide, having marked my unwarranted absence from the party, following my course and seeking me out in this limestone labyrinth? Whilst these joyful queries arose in my brain, I was on the point of renewing my cries, in order that my discovery might come the sooner, when in an instant my delight was turned to horror as I listened; for my ever acute ear, now sharpened in even greater degree by the complete silence of the cave, bore to my benumbed understanding the

tmost bush
and the Hammer will automatically appear. Mario picks it up and from this
moment on you can use the 'B' button to hammer objects like trees and
blocks. Doing this on the rightmost tree will make a Dolly drop down from
the branches, pick it and take it along. It belongs to Goombaria who will
give you a Starstone if you return it to her. Now that you have the Hammer
go back one field. But just before you can return a small koopaling that
just hatched from his egg appears. This is Jr. Troopa and you will meet him
in various locations. He challenges you to a battle, because you have
seemed to enter his playground without permission.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boss: Jr. Troopa - Round #1
---------------------------
HP: 5
ATK: 1 Jump Attack
2 Jump Attack (power-up)
DEF: 0
SPL: 41

This battle is pretty straitforward as there is not much that you can do,
other than using the Jump / Hammer commands to cause 1 point damage. After
four rounds (4 points of damage) Jr. Troopa increases his power and his
Jump attack becomes twice as strong. Don't worry about it for you just need
to hit him one more time for a victory.

Because Mario is on level 1 you'll receive exactly 20 Star Points as a
token of the experience that you've gained. Notice that the amount of Star
Points is variable depending on your level, so in some later occasions the
amounts may vary somewhat. This is also the reason why I mention the Star
Point level instead of the actual star points. To get the amount of Star
Points you need to substract it from Mario's level and divide it by 2
(round off any x.5).
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the battle Jr. Troopa curses you and leaves the scene telling you
that he will be back.

--Bottom Area--
Break the yellow block here to get past the blockade (don't forget to
collect the Mushroom from the tree). Next to that you can also get a Fire
Flower by jumping on the Jump pad to the right. The grey block here cannot
be broken with your current hammer, so come back much later to get the
hidden Repel Gel from that location. Continue along on the path to the
right and you'll find an area filled with enemies.

--Bottom Area - Right--
Hidden Items: 1 (17)
1 Coin - Hit the tree on the upper ledge with the hammer
Star Pieces: 1 (2)
-At the end of the upper left edge
Enemies:
Goomba, Paragoomba, Spiked Goomba

The battles in this game are not an obligatory part so you can just skip
the monsters in the field and leave via the right exit. I do recommend that
you fight however, because your current HP and FP statistics are very weak
and you need the level-ups later on. Try to collect the Star Piece on the
upper left edge, because these little trinkets can come in handy in earning
several rare badges later on in the game.

--Goomba Village--
Back in Goomba Village again Goompa unlocks the gate and you can enter the
village once again. Mario can give the Dolly to Goombaria for a Star Piece.
Goompa goes inside to get something good for you. When you return you get
the Power Jump badge. Equip it in the Pause Menu under 'Badges' and you can
use this power move in battle. You can also listen to his explanation of
the Badge system if you like.
Not much later Goompa advices Mario to take Goombario along with you as a
partner. The young Goomba agrees and he joins you in your quest to save
princess Peach. Goombario's Special ability in the field (C-Down) is giving
information about objects/people/areas that are nearby. Try it out if you
get stuck sometimes to get a hint. In Battle Goombario can also tattle his
opponents allowing you to see their HP-bar. After getting a new partner and
the Power Jump Badge you can leave the village using the Hammer on the
yellow block to the right. The road to Toad Town is reopened allowing you
to reach Shooting Star Summit.

------------------

The knight in full plate armor stood before the girl and her little sister, his sword raised high.

His blade gleamed in the sun, and he poised himself, ready to end their lives in a single merciful stroke.

The girl squeezed her eyes tightly shut and bit her lower lip. She had never asked for this. She had been forced into her present circumstances. If only she had some strength, she might have resisted the enemy in front of her and fled.

However — the girl did not have that strength.

Thus, there could only be one outcome to this situation.

That would be the girl’s death, at this very place.
The longsword fell—

—And yet there was no pain.

The girl gingerly opened the eyes which had been squeezed shut.

The first thing she saw was the suddenly motionless longsword.

Then, she saw the sword’s owner.

The knight in front of her was frozen in place, his eyes looking somewhere off to the girl’s side. His completely defenseless posture clearly displayed the fear that filled him.

As though drawn by the knight’s gaze, the girl could not help but turn and look in the same direction as him.

And so — the girl gazed upon despair.

What she saw was darkness.

It was an infinitesimally thin, yet unfathomably deep blackness. It was a half-oval of obsidian that seemed to protrude from the earth. It was a mysterious sight that filled the ones watching it with a powerful sense of unease.

Was it a door?

The girl could not help but think so after she saw what lay before her.

As her heart lurched, the girl’s conjecture was confirmed.

Something seemed to be coming out of that shadowy passage.

And in the moment that it resolved itself in her eyes—

“Hiiiiiiii!”

—A deafening shriek came from the girl.

It was an opponent humanity could not overcome.

Twin points of crimson light burned brightly within the empty orbits of a bleached skull. Those two points of light coldly scanned the girl and the others present, like a predator sizing up its prey. Within its fleshless hands it grasped a magic staff that seemed divine in nature, yet inspired dread in equal measure. It was like a crystallization of all the beauty in the world.

It wore an intricately detailed black robe, and it resembled nothing so much as an incarnation of death, born from the darkness of another world.

In an instant, the air seemed to freeze.

It was as though time itself had stood still in the wake of a Supreme Being’s advent.

The girl forgot to breathe, as if the sight had stolen her soul away.

Then, in this silent world, the girl began choking, and gasped for air.

This avatar of death must have manifested itself in order to guide her to the underworld. It was only natural to think so. But then, the girl who thought this way suddenly realized that something was wrong. That was because the knight who had been planning to kill her from behind was now completely still.

“Gaaah...”

A cry that sounded like a wail crept into her ears.

From whose mouth had that sound come? It felt like it could have been hers, or her little sister, shivering in fright, or from the mouth of the knight that had been about to kill her.

A skeletal hand slowly extended itself — its fingers spreading as though reaching for something, and they moved past the girl, toward the knight behind her.

She wanted to look away from it, but fear kept her gaze in place. She had the feeling that if she averted her eyes, she would see a far more horrible sight instead.

“[Grasp Heart].”

The incarnation of death clenched its fist, and the girl heard the sound of crunching metal from behind her.

Her eyes did not leave the figure of Death, but driven by her curiosity, the girl wrenched her eyes away, and saw the body of the knight. He was sprawled motionless on the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He was dead.

There was no doubt that he was dead.

The danger that had almost claimed the girl was no more. But this was no cause for celebration. The d