Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The Weak Health Potion restored my leg, but my health was still at sixty percent. I sat on the ground, clutching my arm stump as spikes of pain speared into me. The rest of my arm was right there . . . severed and in front of me. Blood leaked from the end, its fingers mangled.

My mind filled with agony, and I couldn’t bring myself to thank Fred as he sat down on top of the boulder. I started on a rez for Mie, who had crawled her way over to me, which took the effort of just raising my one good hand. Everything hurt. Clara was on her way too.

Mie popped up, and her health was restored to full when she immediately cast a Flash Heal on herself. A moment later, and another gold Flash Heal ran through me as well, bringing me back to full. As the animation of the spell fell through me, I watched my arm fly up from the ground and reattach itself to my shoulder. I watched my fingers straighten as the damage reverse itself. I relaxed as all the pain faded away from my body as if it was never there.

A moment ago, I was in pieces, blood coming out of me, and dying. Now I was completely fine, as if nothing had happened. I exhaled heavily, relieved the pain was gone. I took in my surroundings. Mike had really made a wreck of the place.

As I surveyed the damage, I realized the ground, the trees, and everything else around me were destructible objects. It should have been obvious, since everything felt so real, but I had sort of just assumed the environment couldn’t change. But the earth all around me was upended, the roots ripped up, and the trees broken and thrown everywhere. I put that thought aside as the rez neared completion.

Once I finished rezzing Clara and Mie healed her back up, they turned to face Fred, the orange-haired and bearded dwarf. He was the spell caster who helped us out with the three level ten guards way back near The Notch. He jumped down off the boulder.

“Ahah! Oops!” he cried as he landed, then stumbled and fell over.

“Have you been following us, dwarf?” Mie asked as he stood up.

“What?!” Fred responded, then said more proudly, “Not at all! I’m ON A QUEST TO FIND A LITTLE BOY!”

As the other two engaged him in conversation, I looked over to Mike’s corpse . . . and cringed once again. Revenge was sweet . . . but I wasn’t sure having your nuts crushed up into your butt . . . was a fair trade. Meh, he deserved it.

I walked over to his corpse—which was glowing gold—at a quick clip, anxious to know if our gear was still there. I didn’t know how many life credits Mike had left, but I did know he was down at least two now since I’d killed him in the entry event. So, at the most, he had three. But maybe he had been taken out more than once during entry . . . I couldn’t know for sure. Him being at level twenty-two told me that wasn’t likely. I glanced over at Fred as I reached Mike, inspecting his nameplate.

Fred#819282374181723

Level 18, Fairy Dwarf

Fairy Dwarf? Huh. I had just assumed he was a dwarf. He was also level eighteen. I was only level fifteen—because of the death penalty—and I’d thought we were ahead of the game. Is no one sleeping?! I sighed heavily again, resigning myself to the fact that we needed to kick things into a higher gear if we were going to stay somewhat ahead. The other players at the inn had all been lower than us, but that was a small sample size I wagered. Not enough to go on. Just today, we had run into two players who were higher than us.

I swallowed, then I looted Mike and got a stream of item notifications. Only a few items caught my attention, and I let out a relieved sigh. Thank God.

You received {Copper Coin} x26

You received {Great Yield Explosive} x4

Roll for {Distilled Ring of Blackthorn’s Blood}

Only twenty-six copper? He must be storing his cash in his Soul Inventory. He must have a guide who doesn’t spend it all . . . or maybe he killed his guide too. I wouldn’t put it past him. No . . . he definitely has some sort of perception ability catching us off guard like that. After his taunts back there, I was starting to get a better idea of what type of person Mike was. Mentally ill for sure, but also power hungry, and probably one of those sweaty gamer types. I could picture it. Fucking . . . warming up his hands with a hot water bottle, his forehead dripping wet with sweat, his face close to the monitor, running through AIMLAB rounds—first person shooter warmups. Then cursing out everyone on his team, spit flying across his mic and against his screen. Ugh.

I looked at the explosives.

Trigger Activated: {Great Yield Explosive}

Description: Causes a large explosion when triggered.

Okay . . . that doesn’t give me much. Big explosion, sure, but how do I use it?

I wondered where Mike had even come by these, and how I could trigger them without his stupid teleportation trap. I pulled one out.

Their shape was square, almost like a brick of C4, and it reminded me of the white frisbee-like ring Mike had thrown at me. One of these had been attached to it, I realized. That mechanic clicked in my head. The blue glass pane teleportation trap had teleported me to the white ring, and I guess when I appeared that was what triggered the explosive. It made me wonder what exactly constituted a trigger. I had an idea but shelved it for the time being.

We rolled for the ring next, and Mie won again.

Not wanting to embarrass myself in front of Fred, I had a little contained tantrum. I'm not proud of it, but I . . . kicked Mike’s corpse as I got up. Mie started laughing.

HOW DOES SHE KEEP WINNING?! WHAT A DUMB, STUPID MECHANIC! I gathered myself, grumbling as I headed back over to the group.

A trade window popped up offering the ring. I let it sit there, waiting for her to confirm the trade first, as I took Fred’s offered handshake. I noticed the same ‘Add to Contacts’ option right below ‘Add to Party’ as I started to shake his hand.

“Thanks for—what the!”

He pulled me into headlock and gave me a nuggy.

“Gah!” I cried out. “What the hell, man?!” With some effort I pulled away.

He backed away, arms raised. “AHAHAHA!” he belted out with not a small amount of jubilation. His whole body was shaking.

Okay yeah, I definitely am not going to like this guy.

Mie: Too far.

Clara: I don’t know. It’s good to see someone having fun.

Sam: No. Way too far.

Greg: I like him.

Mie: Greg . . . :face-palm emoji: Okay yeah, I’m out on Fred. I’m not saying he ever was a possibility for the number four slot. But if Greg is on board, big pass from me.

Sam: Agreed. We’ll find someone else.

Clara: Feels a little early to judge someone.

Greg: Yeah . . . and also, he just saved your asses.

Mie: . . . we know, Greg. God. You’re so dumb.

I brought my attention back to Fred, who had finally stopped belly laughing. I couldn’t help but notice that the guy was overly animated. It was fine getting excited every once in a while in my opinion . . . but to be cheery and overly animated all the time? It was kind of a pet peeve.

“Woah there, man. That was pretty funny for sure, but let’s never do that again,” I said.

He wiped at his eyes, still smiling. “Ah my bad, you’re a personal bubble kind of guy then. I see. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Who isn’t a personal bubble kind of guy? I thought.

I noticed the ‘Add to Contacts’ option missing in the menu hovering over his shoulder. I saw ‘Add to Party’ still . . . but no ‘Add to Contacts’ Why is the interface different?! We have to be touching? I hadn’t realized that was how it worked back in the inn. Ugh. Mustering myself and too curious to know more about this guy’s abilities through chat, I walked over and put my right hand on his shoulder and gripped it, keeping my arm stiff just in case he made any sudden movements. He gripped my left shoulder.

“But seriously. Thank you,” I said. “We owe you twice over now.”

The option to ‘Add to Contacts’ reappeared, and I selected it. A little message popped up next to the option.

Waiting for other player to accept.

“Brother,” Fred said, putting his eyes down to the ground and leaning his head forward, as if he was auditioning for a part in Gladiator.

“What? No,” I said. “I just want to add you to my contacts.”

A moment passed, then another. He continued to lean his head forward.

“Brother,” he said again.

God damn it. Ugh. I leaned forward until our foreheads met, then he accepted the invite. This guy is pretty weird.

I immediately dropped my hand and backed up. I had to drop my shoulders more than I wanted to in order to get out of his grip . . . which made me do an awkward stooping motion as I turned away.

“Okay that was officially the weirdest interaction I have ever seen in my life,” Mie said.

“I wanted to add him to my contacts,” I explained. I looked over to Fred. “Any chance you could share your abilities? Curious how your class works. I sort of thought . . . mages sucked in this game. But you just one-tapped the strongest player we have come across.”

“HUZZAH! But you haven’t met a Fairy Dwarf yet!” He sent over his top three abilities.

Active Ability: {Invisibility Roll}

Description: You roll a d10. The lower the roll, the lower the cost per second of invisibility. Invisibility breaks on any damage, effect, or action.

Cost: {Calculated} mana per second

Cast Time: Instant

Cooldown: 10 seconds

Active Ability: {Joker’s Glare}

Description: You strike fear into the heart of your target, causing them to run directly away from you for twenty seconds.

Cost: 50 mana. Scales with player level.

Cast Time: 1 second

Cooldown: 60 seconds

Active Ability: {Arbitrary Blast}

Description: You roll a d10. The higher the roll, the more damage your target receives relative to their max health. If you roll higher than a d7, you have a chance to hinder the target in an arbitrary manner.

Cost: 60 mana. Scales with player level.

Cast Time: 2 seconds

Cooldown: 60 seconds

“Huh. These seem good. I’m not sure they make up for how squishy you likely are,” I said. Then I looked closer at that Arbitrary Blast ability. ‘Relative to their max health’ . . . That seemed . . . really good. “Wait. It’s a rolling mechanic? Did you roll a ten, to one shot Mike?” I gestured to his body again. We all winced.

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“I’ll say, I rolled extremely well, yes.”

“OOooo, I didn’t realize they had gambling around here,” Clara said, jumping into the conversation.

“What would have happened if you rolled a one?” I asked, with a questioning glance toward Clara.

“No reason to dwell on ‘what ifs,’ ” Fred said. His back straightened, and his chin lifted as he said it.

I dwelled on it. It was a luck-based mechanic . . . and I didn’t like luck much when it came to games . . . especially when my literal life was on the line. I read through the description one more time. It looked and sounded like once every minute, he could cast his Arbitrary Blast ability, and depending on the result, the target would take damage relative to the roll. So if he rolled a one, they would take ten percent max health. If he rolled a five, they would take fifty percent, and so on. That was pretty good . . . but other than that . . . he just didn’t do much. We need a tank, so Mie can focus on heals.

Mie, Clara, and I went through the rest of Mike’s loot while Fred stood fidgeting off to the side, looking unsure of what he should be doing. There were some leather armor pieces and plate that we passed around until we were all equipped in a way that made sense.

“I might as well tag along. I am without party it seems,” Fred said in a mumble, with almost . . . mock sadness. It caught me off guard after all the cheer.

I wasn’t exactly eager to let the guy in, and I was about to respond when Mie did my dirty work. “Nah, man. We’ll pass.”

Clara: Well, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?

Mie: What? Best not to lead the guy on. I put it straight.

Clara: Yes, even so. Harsh.

Fred did look a little caught off guard with the honesty, but he grinned and said, “I’ll tag along anyways. Me mum always told me that persistence is in my blood.”

I sighed, turning my attention to a personal chat from Mie as we headed back to the road a short distance away.

Mie: Well, this is going to be awkward. Not as awkward as you getting hit on by that old guy during a Call of Duty match . . . But still, pretty awkward. Gah, I can still hear that guy’s voice. ‘Hey, big boy.’ Sam . . . your past . . . suuuucks. Sorry, that’s mean. It’s . . . great.

Sam: Trust me. I know. And it’s not all bad having Fred along. He can lead the way.

That was usually my job in battle royale games. I wasn’t a good enough shooter to shoot people . . . but I was a good sound-maker . . . er. Phil loved sending me first into unknown territory to uncover all the little prone snake players. Players . . . like Mike.

We made it back to the path, and I looked to the west. The forest was thick here, but the path ahead broke the canopy above and showed a city on the side of the mountain dead ahead. Black mist swirled over a castle that lay against the mountain itself. The city of The Black Domain, I assumed. I pointed to it.

“Let’s go that way,” I said.

The little streams of the corruption vine . . . or ink—it really was the best word to describe it. It looked like black ink. Anyways, the tendrils were thicker here, crisscrossing the path in front of us. We were going to have to tread carefully.

“Uhh . . . Fred?” I said. “How about you go first.”

“HUZZAH! IT’S GOOD TO BE ALIVE!” he belted and eagerly charged forward.

Sigh.

We traveled west with the remaining daylight, eager to make it to The Black Domain where we all assumed we would reap the most experience. The area here was quiet, and the silence seemed to grow the closer we got to the border of The Black Domain. We took frequent breaks throughout the day so I could feed Mie. Clara kept giving us weird looks every time we logged out . . . together. We made up some bullshit every time, still hiding the fact that Mie was an actual baby. Clara had definitely caught on to the fact that something weird was going on . . . but Fred . . . didn’t. He would just sit down, stare off into space, and start humming.

I lost track of how many times we had to rip him away from the corruption vines. He would accidently stumble into them, and they would rise up and puncture into his stomach. How he was level eighteen and still . . . alive was a mystery to me.

Night was fast approaching, and just as it went pitch black, we got a fire going in a little enclave off the road. The flames threw moving shadows against the surrounding area. Since Mie and—I assumed—Fred would be logging out, I made Clara promise she would put it out before calling it for the night. But then . . . none of us . . . logged out.

The dark area was cold, and the fire was a welcome warmth. The four of us huddled around it as it started its familiar sparking song of destruction. The wood we found was mostly rounds, and since I had my axes back, I went ahead and split a few pieces. It was a familiar motion, and I savored every swing, glad to be out of Rivermoor and away from the population.

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Mie asked no one in particular.

Silence followed, everyone confused.

“About what, Mie?” I asked.

“You know. Everything. We have been pushing hard, and I don’t know. I just feel like we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Okay . . . but what is it?” I asked again. The fire was starting to get going now. Heat pumping up and away. Sparks and the occasional pop creating an ambient vibe that I very much enjoyed.

“Okay. For instance. Who everyone was before . . . you know . . . dying.”

I stared at her, confused. “Wait. You want to talk about who we all were before we died? Mie . . . think about that for a second.” I gave her a questioning look. The ‘you of all people should probably not be bringing this up since you yourself don’t even know where you came from’ look.

“Yeah, I know. I know. It’s dumb,” she said.

I exhaled heavily. I didn’t think she caught my meaning.

“It’s not dumb,” Clara said quietly. She was staring into the fire intently . . . remembering. “I can start.”

“Right! BUT FIRST!” Fred said super loudly.

“Fred,” I said through clenched teeth. “Would you please keep it the fuck down.”

“Super loud, man,” Mie said.

“Right.” He said again, in a whisper. “My bad. But first!” He popped a bottle of Perdon into his hands. Then he popped some glasses out from his inventory and poured us all a couple fingers’ worth. “Figured it might help loosen the tongue a bit.”

“Okay,” Mie whispered to me. “He’s growing on me.”

“Just because he brought alcohol,” I whispered back.

“What? I love it.”

“That’s a problem.”

“Why?”

I opened a private message to her.

Sam: BECAUSE YOU ARE A BABY!

Fred had raised his glass, and we all followed suit.

“Cheers!” he said kind of quietly, and all excited. “Cheers to you all! For being so welcoming this fine day.” Then he knocked back the double shot in one go.

“See. He loves alcohol too,” Mie whispered. Then said louder, “Cheers!” and took a sip.

Clara looked at her glass cautiously, then took a sip. I expected her to cough it up and choke . . . but she didn’t. Huh.

I took a sip. The aroma was actually pretty nice, and there was almost zero harshness. Nothing like that first drink back at The Bucket. In fact, it reminded me a lot of a good bottle of bourbon from back home. It went down easy. I inspected the bottle as the liquid’s warmth spread across my tongue and into my chest.

Rivermoor Perdon

Notes: Oak, Leather, Honey.

“So Fred. I get the impression you were actually a woman back on earth. Is that accurate?” Mie said very unexpectantly, and . . . already hiccupping. I sighed.

This is going to be an interesting night . . .

Fred went dead quiet. Then said, “How did you know?”

I spewed out the sip I had just taken. “Wait . . .WHAT?”

“I could see it,” Mie said.

“Yeah, I lived out in the country with my husband—rest his soul. Would milk the cows every morning, feed the chickens. You know, the farm life. And—okay I can’t keep this up!” Fred started laughing. “You are all so gullible. Your faces say it all!”

I had gone wide eyed, mouth slightly open. “So to be clear, you are in fact . . . a man. Correct?” I realized then for the first time since dying on Earth that I really couldn’t know who anyone was by their appearance, despite the way our character’s features mirrored our real faces. I thought back to Character Creation, I . . . didn’t remember gender options though so . . . a switch there seemed unlikely. But what if I just missed it?

“You’ll never know!” he said with a laugh, and gave me a wink. Ugh.

"Okay this is great. Let’s do pasts,” . . . Mie said.

I looked at her intently, until she met my eyes. Her eyes widened. “Oh, right,” she muttered.

“How about you start, Clara,” I said, covering for Mie . . . again.

“Well, uhmm, alright. I’m . . . well the truth is . . . ” She faltered, struggling to find words. “The truth is my life wasn’t great, and when I died and was thrown into a wooden box with a dreadful guide who wanted to rape me, then killed him, then went straight into a death match with nine other players, I sort of just . . . went dead inside. When you guys found me. . . I had basically given up. I honestly . . . got lucky with the entry event.”

“How many times did it take you?” I asked.

She hesitated slightly, then said, “I died twice. Won on the third.”

“So, then after that gank . . . you have two credits left?”

She nodded and continued, “Not good. Maybe I’ll go back to the Soul Space tonight to clean up. I really should be spending more time there while resting.”

“You mean scrape up the now likely half decomposed corpse of your guide then chop him up and flush him down a toilet bit by bit?” I asked.

“Wow!” Clara said, giving me a wild look. Then after a moment she said, “Well alright, yeah. That sounds right. I’ll have to procure the toilet first.”

“Definitely going to want the toilet,” I said.

“Wait,” Mie said. “Is that how Greg . . . got rid of the . . . trash?”

I glanced at Clara and Fred, sort of hoping they couldn’t read between the lines here.

I nodded . . . but after another moment of silence and intense stares, I resigned to keep talking. “Yep. He got rid of the trash, bit. By. Bit.”

“I sort of get the feeling you folks have some body disposal experience,” Clara said in a joking tone.

I ignored the comment by draining the rest of my glass. Fred poured us all another round rather clumsily.

When we just kept staring intently at our glasses, she went, “Oh my god. You do have experience! You killed Greg! Wait, no. He was just talking in the chat room. Who did you kill back in your Soul Space?!”

“No. It’s not what you’re thinking,” I said.

“I mean . . . it kind of is,” Mie said.

“Okay fair, I do admit we pushed the button. But we didn’t know his head would explode.”

Now it was Clara’s turn to go all wide eyed and open mouthed. “Wait. What?! Greg’s head exploded in your Soul Space?!”

“Yeah, it was pretty messed up,” Mie said. “He was just like, ‘I’m Greg, I’m a total piece of shit who has never had a good player help me level up,’ then bam! His head exploded after we—Sam—decided to kill him.”

“I’m so mixed up,” Clara said, laughing now.

I tried to catch Mie’s eyes. . . to suggest that she stop fucking talking . . . We didn’t know if Tittles or his bunch were listening.

She ignored me . . . and kept going. “Greg leveled up, which I guess you have to like accept or something . . . anyways, when we did accept, his head exploded and his corpse stuck around. But then he came back like a second later, and he was different. All skinny and ugly instead of . . . well, fat and ugly.”

Greg: Again . . . I feel like I shouldn’t need to keep explaining that I can hear everything you are saying.

Mie: GREG I KNOW HOW IT WORKS!

“Wait wait wait. Hold on,” Clara said. “You’re telling me that Greg’s head exploded AND THEN SAM MADE HIM DISPOSE OF HIS OWN CORPSE? Well, that’s just plain twisted.”

“That’s what I said.”

“At least you folks have a guide still. I had to figure this all out on my own at first.” Clara continued, “I didn’t know they upgraded like that.”

“Huh, interesting,” Fred said with a hiccup. “My guide is still level one, and I’m a higher level than you. Strange . . . ” he said, fading off in thought. His face furrowed, like he was trying to figure out something really complex in his . . . drunken state. I glanced above his health bar. Oh, not drunk. Shitfaced. I read the debuff description. Movement slowed by seventy percent. Whoa.

Greg: Even with this level up. You guys still aren’t going to win. The odds of that are incredibly low. It’s last party standing. So . . . the last party are the only ones who survive.

There was another long pause as the weight of what Greg said settled in. I waited for Mie to respond . . . but for once . . . she didn’t. Her eyes looked into the fire, and I could feel her sadness in our bond again. I was surprised when Clara responded.

Clara: Can it, Greg.

Only Greg could turn a good time into a bad time . . . faster than a cold draft blowing out a candle. I exhaled heavily, and through the chill that had reached into all of us, I recognized a new source of warmth. Not the warmth from the fire right in front of us. But in Clara’s eyes. She bore a determined expression. It reminded me so much of one of my girls. Ada more than Lily. Stubborn and resolved as a rusty nail.

“We’re going to make it,” she said softly, and I saw the sparks inside of her. Anger, and hope, perfectly combined to pull the weighted blanked off of the group. Mie looked up and nodded, and Fred raised what must have been his sixth glass.

I nodded too, but deep down inside of me . . . I had to admit, there was little hope. Last party standing did mean the last party standing. Greg was right, the odds of that were low . . . no matter how you looked at it.

A loud crack from the fire shot an ember to my feet. I . . . stamped it out, took another glass from Fred, and downed it. I wanted to forget—if only briefly—the hell we were in.

I woke up the next morning disoriented. Morning light hit my eyelids as I thought back to the previous night. I was having a hard time putting the series of events back together, but I remembered Fred saying something like, ‘Wait… wait. Back it up. Whoooo’s . . . milkin’ the cowsss?!’ clearly . . . drunk, then pulling out a deck of cards and challenging us to a game of Texas Hold’em. After the first bottle was gone, he’d pulled out another. Then another. Mie got the Shitfaced debuff too . . . actually we all did. I remembered us all shaking off the gloom eventually until we were roaring with laughter and toasting to everything. Specifically, to the blowing up of Greg’s head. Mie would go, ‘TO GREG’S HEAD BLOWING UP!’ or ‘LET’S BLOW HIM UP AGAIN!’ and we would all drink as if it was some unspoken rule. She did this multiple times. She even toasted to the sentiment behind my player name . . . or maybe to me. I wasn’t sure. I was drunk. ‘TO ANYTHING BUT SQUISHED!’

I didn’t remember the game of cards, but I did remember agreeing to a crap deal that whoever won would get to make a request of the others. I thought this was some weird ploy from Fred to get Clara naked.

Eyes bleary, I looked around, and everything seemed fine. Everyone had clothes on. Whew. We put the fire out, and the night had either stayed warm enough, or we were all just drunk enough to ignore the cold and stay asleep. I was numb still, the alcohol not quite out of my system. I glanced around, continuing to make sure everything was okay, and that’s when I saw it and remembered who had won the game, and what the request had been. I sighed and muttered, “Ah, that piece of shit.”

Fred’s face was grinning at me from a little icon in my party interface. There were three Z’s indicating he was asleep. The little bastard had wiggled his way into the party. There was the option to remove him—that I desperately wanted to hit—but I decided we might as well let him stay for the time being. Still wasn’t a fan of the guy. He was—to put it gently—an oddball.

My thoughts froze as a loud stoic voice came in from all directions startling the others awake. Well, everyone but Mie; she just rolled over after mumbling, “No, Greg, put it away. Stop.”

Yikes.

“Good morning!” Tittles said. “I apologize for the early hour, but due to a continued large influx of souls, we have been asked to move things along in this instance. Phase two will begin in fifteen days, and the time allotted has been reduced to twenty-five remaining days. More to come on the phase two rule changes, and again I want to apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.”

It came and went so fast that it didn’t really register right away. Inconvenience? I chuckled. This whole damn experience is an inconvenience. I saw Clara’s worried eyes, and another realization dawned on me.

In twenty-five days . . . at the very latest . . . we will all be dead.

Someone powerful was pulling strings in ways I did not like. Someone was playing God with a million souls. And for what?! Why is this all happening?! Not knowing was killing me, and I was fed up with it. What would happen when I died . . . again? I don't want to not exist. That would mean I would never get back to my family, and the hope of finding Rach again, which had barely awoken, would be gone entirely. I stood there for a moment, the alcohol morphing into a slow, steady pounding in my skull, as yet another realization struck me.

Nothing . . . has changed. This . . . is just like life on Earth.

Was that true?

I remembered the familiar thought pattern of dreading the end. I had been through this dance many times. Thinking about the approaching unknown at the end of life on Earth. That was all this existence was. Just more unknowns. Was my wife . . . gone forever? The thought wrecked me. But I was still going to move forward. I was still going to try. If not for her, then for my kids.

Lily . . . you better be alive. You better . . . not be here.

I straightened my back, and started moving toward the darkness ahead.