Shadeslinger (The Ripple System Book #1) - A Fantasy LitRPG series

Kyle Kirrin

Chapter One

I took off my pants, grabbed the four-person sushi platter I'd ordered off the kitchen counter, and plopped onto the couch.

“Are you certain I can't order you something healthier, sir?” House said, her toneless voice sounding from every direction at once. She was a one-of-kind A.I I'd inherited from my father, and while she made for a pretty effective digital maid, she could be a little overbearing.

“There's nothing wrong with rice and fish,” I said.

“With all due respect,” House said, “a meal designed for a family of four is never healthy when eaten alone. Perhaps you'd like some company?”

“Mmm,” I said. “Pass.”

“What about Ethan?” House said. “Shall I see if he's free?”

“Why? So he can spend the whole evening hounding me to invest in whatever doomed product he's currently pushing? Yeah, no.” I skewered a piece of volcano roll with a plastic fork and shoveled it into my mouth. “I hate that guy. I'm still annoyed I ever considered him a friend.”

“Perhaps Stephanie, then? You haven't responded to her messages, and she has been trying to contact you for the better part of a month.”

“Nope,” I said. “I don't have any interest in having a girlfriend who thinks I should pay her rent two months into a relationship just because I can. Been down that road too many times before, and I know exactly where it leads.”

“Aidan might—”

“I'm fine, House,” I said around a mouthful of spicy tuna. “I don't need company. I don't want company.”

“But, sir…it's your birthday. And societal norms dictate you ought to spend your birthday with those you're closest to.”

I grabbed a warm beer off the floor, cracked it open, and raised it in a mock toast. “Well, here we are, House. To a birthday with my closest friend.”

House hesitated. “Do I misunderstand, or are you referring to me, sir?”

“I sure am.”

It still felt a little strange to vocalize that to a glorified computer—and House was a far cry from a real person—but in a lot of ways, she was the perfect friend. She was even-keeled, unflinchingly honest, and endlessly supportive, and I never worried she was only sticking in my orbit because I had money.

“Oh,” House said. “I am flattered, sir. However, I maintain that some human contact would be beneficial to your long-term health. Several recent studies suggest those who willingly isolate themselves from society for prolonged periods—”

“Or—and I want you to hear me out on this—I could spend my birthday doing exactly what I want. Which is to watch Earthblood Online air their first trailer. Alone. So I can enjoy it in peace.”

“I apologize,” House said. “In hindsight, it is clear I've overstepped the bounds of my role. I am simply concerned for your well-being.”

“I know, I know. But I really am fine, House. This trailer is going to be the first look at actual gameplay that E.B.O has put out. I've been looking forward to this game for years, and finally getting some concrete details on how the world works is gonna be amazing. Today's going to be a good day, I promise.”

“I understand. How can I be of assistance?”

“Can you turn on the telewall and see if Tyrann's live? He's one of the streamers introducing the game.” I glanced at my phone. “And the trailer should be hitting the feeds any minute now.”

“Of course. I'll tap you into his stream.”

The entirety of the opposite wall—a twenty-foot-wide panoramic window that spanned ceiling to floor—flashed from transparent to black, presenting me with a bird's eye view of an army of red-skinned orcs crashing into a much larger force of elves.

Tyrann looked out from a window in the bottom left quadrant of the screen, his suntanned face showing no strain whatsoever as he micromanaged dozens of units while chatting with his viewers. He paused the game and cleared his throat. “Hey guys, the moment we've all been waiting for is finally here.”

“Oh my God,” I said. “This is it.” I tossed my fork onto the platter and leaned forward on the couch, hands on knees. Everything in me had gone electric. It felt like my very bones were buzzing.

“I'm thrilled to be one of the streamers chosen to present the first-ever glimpse into Earthblood Online,” Tyrann said. “For those of you who've been living under the world's largest rock, this is the V.R.M.M.O I've been raving about for the last few months. You know, the one I took out a second mortgage for so I could upgrade my pod.

“Supposedly, E.B.O is the first game to offer complete immersion. That means smell, taste, everything. Can you even imagine what that would feel like?

A game you can play without your senses constantly reminding you that what you're experiencing isn't real? I can't be the only one who's tired of sitting down to these legendary-looking feasts only to bite into a turkey leg that tastes like cardboard.” He paused and shook his head. “Anyway, here it is. Let's all just hope it measures up to the hype.”

I cupped the sides of my face with both hands. I felt my pulse in my fingertips.

The telewall faded to black, then presented an over-the-shoulder view of a warrior in bronze armor sprinting through shin-deep water. He had a massive greatsword strapped between his shoulder blades, and the weapon bounced against his armor as he ran.

About fifty feet ahead of the warrior, a burning village was throwing cinders into the sky as a squad of raiders dressed in dark leather loosed flaming arrows over its stone wall.

The warrior reached the shoreline and drew his blade, an arc of water flying off the huge, double-edged weapon. Then the telewall split into two screens, and suddenly there were two warriors, each facing an identical village.

The warrior on the left crashed into the raiders from behind, carving a bloody swath through their ranks with wide, sweeping strikes.

But the warrior on the right simply nodded to the nearest bandit and continued toward the village. He raised his weapon and swung it in one smooth motion, sending an arc of silver light flying toward the village's protective wall.

The stone barrier shattered inward, and the raiders poured through the gap, hooting and hollering with torches in hand, melting around the warrior as if he were one of their own.

I chewed my fingernails as the two independent scenes played out, as one warrior saved the village while the other razed it to the ground.

The screens split a second time, and then there were four warriors, all of them working their way through different takes on the same scenario: one of the warriors on the right split the spoils of war with the bandits and went on his way; another killed their leader and declared himself their king. At the same time, one of the warriors on the left agreed to rebuild the town while the other demanded the mayor pay for his aid.

Then the screens split again, and there were eight warriors, there were sixteen, there were thirty-two, sixty-four, a hundred and—

“Choice,” a deep voice said from offscreen as the warriors continued to multiply. “The great failing of the M.M.O. The problem is fundamental: how do you make your mark on a world whose fate has been predetermined? The answer is as frustrating as it is simple: you don't. Until now.”

“Holy. Crap,” I said.

“What you're seeing is actual gameplay,” the voice said. “Hundreds of different players working through the same questline, all to vastly different results. Because in Earthblood Online, not only do your choices matter, they shape reality itself.

“Our world is one of dynamic change, a world in which cities rise and fall in real time, a world where your every action—or inaction—ripples out in meaningful ways. Hence the name of the engine that powers this new world: The Ripple System.

“But this is so much more than a game,” the voice continued. “This is the wild west of our generation; it's the last true frontier. This is an opportunity to leave your life behind and start over with new friends, new goals, new enemies. This is your chance to become a legend in a world that's so advanced, so immersive, that it's completely indistinguishable from reality, except in the many, many ways we've made it better.”

I leaned closer still, wide-eyed with hope.

“And for fifty lucky players, the adventure of a lifetime begins in three days. For those of you brave enough to take the plunge, we're putting fifty lifetime memberships up for sale via an online auction at this very moment.”

The warriors disappeared, replaced by the game's name written in crisp white letters set against a black background, with a blue hyperlink beneath. Then a third line of white text scrolled across the bottom of the screen: Your new life awaits.

“Each membership includes access to an ultra-exclusive, three-day Head Start period, plus one of our revolutionary, full dive pods, delivered and installed free of charge. The first pods of their kind, devices so advanced they eliminate the need to logout entirely.”

“Wait, what!” I said aloud. “No logout?” Between that and three days of exclusive access…what could I do with that?

What couldn't I do with that? If I could get in three days ahead of everyone else, I didn't see any reason why I couldn't finally break into the top tier of players and make a name for myself. An early jump was exactly the edge I needed to make that happen.

“So give us your kings and your queens,” the voice continued, “your cutthroats and your cultists, your messiahs and your murderers. No matter who you decide to be, please, join us. We've built a world unlike any other, but we still need heroes and villains to write its history. But whatever you do, don't think of our world as a game. Think of it as a second reality—no, think of it as home.”

Tyrann's stream slammed back into place, with him looking just as dumbfounded as I felt. I jumped to my feet, sending the sushi platter crashing to the floor. “House,” I said, “find that auction and throw it up on the telewall.”

“Bringing it up now, sir.”

I scanned the listings, grinning as I realized they'd put a buyout option in place for each membership. The prices were exorbitant, but well within my means. “This is it. This is exactly what I've been waiting for. Oh my God, House, I could just…I could leave. I could log in and never come back.”

I rocked back on my heels, a plan coming into focus, an even bigger smile splitting my face. Buying a lifetime membership sounded great…but why settle for being one of the first fifty?”

“Shall I make a bid, sir?” House said. “Or would you prefer to purchase a membership now?”

I shook my head. “No, you're thinking too small, House,” I said. “I want you to buy them all.”

Chapter Two

I stood in the corner of a white, minimalistic waiting room—so minimalistic that it only had a single chair—waiting for a redheaded secretary to wave me into the office beyond.

My purchase still hadn't gone through, but the studio's C.E.O had flown me out to his office to finalize the deal, so it seemed like everything was falling into place.

“Kline will see you now,” the secretary said without looking at me.

I rubbed my hands against my thighs, trying to scrape the sweat off my palms. “Thanks.” I crossed the room, picking at the hem of my button-down as I went, and pushed through a set of ornate wooden doors.

The office beyond was much like the waiting room: white floors, white ceiling, not nearly enough furniture. A sterile space enclosed by windows on three sides with a man probably a couple of years younger than me standing at its center. He wore a pair of loose white slacks, and he was barefoot, bald, and shirtless.

I held out my hand as I reached him. “Hey, I'm—”

“Ned Altimer,” Kline interrupted. “Sole heir to the Altimer fortune. You took over your father's private equity firm at twenty-three and ran it into the ground so thoroughly he was forced out of retirement to take it back. He died at his desk, and the company went under in a matter of weeks. In the four years since, you've become a shut in. No public appearances, no social media, no employment history to speak of.” He looked me up and down, frowning. “I know exactly who you are, Ned. And I am not impressed.”

I dropped my hand to my side. “Alright then. Pretty aggressive way to introduce yourself to someone who just gave you a ridiculous amount of money, but fine.”

“Sit down,” Kline said as he dropped into lotus position on the floor.

I shrugged, sat, and pulled my knees to my chest.

“What does the way you're sitting say about you?” Kline said.

“What? The way I'm sitting?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. I don't have time for this. You bought all fifty of my memberships. But the information I've gathered on you suggests you don't have fifty friends. I doubt you even have five.”

I grimaced. Did not like this guy. “I bought the memberships so I could go it alone. Be the first into your world. Learn the ropes before anyone else.”

Kline shook his head. “Pathetic.”

“Not here for your opinion,” I said. “Just looking to get things finalized.”

“You know, I nearly canceled your transaction the moment it hit our servers. I don't imagine our fans will look kindly on us for allowing this kind of stunt to taint the game's launch.”

He sighed. “But in fairness, I never put a limit on how many slots a person could purchase, and I already expected a few people to buy multiple slots. Lucky for you, I'm a man of my word. And I'll approve your purchase on one condition.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. Then the floor brightened between us, and a hologram of a plain-looking axe shot into the air.

“This is the Axe of Unbridled Knowledge,” Kline said.

“Okay,” I said.

“It's an in-game item. And you're going to start with it.”

“Okay,” I repeated.

Kline squeezed his eyes shut and touched two fingers to his temple. “Are you really not going to ask why I'm insisting you start with a special item? Does that not seem suspicious to you?”

“Why would I turn down a special item on launch day? That makes no sense. What, is it cursed or something? 'Cause, even then, those items usually turn out to be pretty good.”

Kline muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like moron. “Look. Earthblood Online is my masterpiece. And it's all about people. Great people: philosopher kings, captains of industry, seekers of new and faraway lands. It's about who a person might become if their circumstances were radically shifted.

It's got magic, classes, levels, loot. Everything you'd expect a V.R.M.M.O to have.

“But there's also Renown, a constantly evolving system that numerically quantifies the changes you inflict upon the world. I expect it to take years before anyone reaches the highest rank, but Renown itself is boundless. It's the truest measure of power that's ever existed, in our shared reality or otherwise. Because what is power if not your ability to exert your will upon the world?”

I poked a finger through the hologram that was still spinning between us. “Sounds awesome. What about the axe, though?”

Kline sighed and rolled his eyes. “I'm getting there, kid.”

“Dude, I'm older than you.”

“And yet you have the attention span of a child.”

“You sure are talking a lot for a guy who doesn't have time for this.”

Kline took a deep breath and made a bunch of weird, vaguely meditative gestures with his hands. “Alright. The axe. As I said, it's an in-game item. But it's also an A.I that has access to some of Earthblood Online's deepest secrets. Essentially, the Axe of Unbridled Knowledge functions as a guide for whoever wields it. Think of it as the catalyst for my great people project.

“But the axe does have a number of drawbacks.” Kline held up a finger. “One, the axe's knowledge is restricted by the level of the person who carries it.” He put up a second finger. “Two, as an in-game item, the axe is droppable on death.”

He smiled as he raised a third finger, which I didn't like one bit. “And, finally, three, as soon as the Head Start period drops and people flood the server, we're going to put out a worldwide announcement that states exactly what the axe is capable of. And we're also going to identify the person who holds it. Meaning you.”

“Okay,” I said. “So, it's a manhunt.”

“The greatest virtual manhunt the world has ever seen.”

I narrowed my eyes. “But why me? You obviously don't like me, and I've already got the Head Start period to myself. Why would you want to give me another advantage?”

“That's a good question. And in the interest of full disclosure, I do, in fact, dislike you. And I'll admit to being frustrated when you purchased my memberships. That little stunt really threw a wrench into my plans. I never considered the possibility that anyone out there was both rich and desperate enough to drop twenty million on a three-day advantage for a game they'd never played.”

I shrugged. “Money isn't an issue for me. And even if your game craters, those pods will stay valuable. I can easily flip them and recoup most of my money if it comes to that.”

Kline clicked his tongue. “You do realize that your money won't help you once you step into the game, right?”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

Kline pursed his lips, then nodded. “Fair enough. Anyway, I figured I'd be handing my axe to someone with potential. Someone who might rise to become one of the first rulers of Earthblood Online. But I worried about that, too, because it's difficult to quantify just how powerful knowledge really is.

“What if I'd overshot and made the axe too effective a tool? What if the person I'd given it to went on to do incredible things, but wouldn't have become exceptional in the first place if it weren't for the axe's help? But you…you're perfect.”

“Me?” I said.

“Oh yes,” Kline said. “The good-for-nothing heir who tried to claim an entire reality for himself. The headlines practically write themselves. And the world is going to despise you.

They're going to want you dead, even aside from the axe. Granted, they're really going to want you dead when that announcement goes out. But here's the real kicker: you're a safe bet.”

“What do you—”

“Let's be honest here, Ned. You've been given every possible advantage in life, and you've still managed to screw it up every step of the way. You're the kind of person who finds a way to fail at everything you do no matter how much of a leg up you're given.

“See, if you start with the axe, I won't have to worry about you snowballing its advantages way out of control. All I'll have to do is kick back and wait for someone who's halfway competent to come along and kill you.”

I stared at him, a flush washing up my neck. “Are we done here?”

“That depends. Are you taking the axe?”

I stood up. “Of course I am.”

“Alright then.” He held up a finger. “One last thing.”

“What now?”

“What kind of character are you planning to create?”

I squinted at him. “Why?”

“I'll need to make some slight alterations to the axe depending on what you pick,” he said.

“Fine,” I said. “I haven't really decided, but I want magic.”

Kline smirked as if I'd just made a mistake, then dismissed me with a wave. “I'll approve your purchase within the hour. I look forward to watching you fail in front of the entire world. Again.”

I headed for the doors, speaking back over my shoulder: “Uh huh. We'll see about that.” I pulled the door open and walked through. “By the way, your left nipple is bigger than your right. It's super weird.”

I pulled the door almost all of the way shut behind me, but left it cracked, turned around, and pressed an eye to the gap. I watched Kline sit there for a long moment in the center of his office, totally still. Then he glanced down at his nipples.

I pushed the door back open. “Saw that.” Then I slammed it shut before he could respond.

Chapter Three

I climbed into my new pod but left the suicide-style door hanging open. “Alright House,” I said, “Earthblood Online's about to go live. You've got my pod number if anything important comes up.”

“Indeed,” House said. “I hope you find your new reality more to your liking, sir.”

“Me too, House. Talk to you soon.”

“Goodbye.”

I pulled the door shut, and the pod began to vibrate, my eyes growing heavy as the device lulled me to sleep.

I blinked, and an endless white world brightened around a central figure, a wide-winged seraph who was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She smiled, and everything in me went warm and light, my every care dissolving beneath the radiance of her attention.

Then an axe flew out of nowhere and buried itself in the back of the angel's skull. Hot blood spattered my face, and I stumbled backward, tripped, then fell onto the floor. “What the hell?”

“Hey!” a deep voice said. “Hey, you!”

I looked around for the speaker, but as far as I could tell, I was alone with the angel lady's corpse.

“Down here, idiot. Get me out of this chick's skull.”

I squinted at the axe, which was pretty familiar if you could get past the blond, bloody hair it was buried in. “Oh, it's you. The A.I Kline talked about, the uh…Axe of Unbridled Knowledge. Quite the title you've got there.”

“Ya, it's dumb,” the axe said. “Call me Frank.”

I barked a laugh, shocked by how personable he sounded. I'd worked with A.I's that were far better in conversation than House—conversing wasn't what she'd been built to do—but this axe sounded far more human than anything I'd ever encountered.

“Alright then. Frank it is.” I tried to yank the weapon free with a single hand, but it wouldn't budge, so I planted a foot between the woman's wings, wrapped both hands around the haft of the axe, and yanked it free with a loud, wet pop.

You received {Axe of Unbridled Knowledge}!

I pulled that up.

{Axe of Unbridled Knowledge} (Cosmetic Axe)

Quality: Artifact

That was interesting, in that the axe wasn't a weapon at all, just a statless, cosmetic item.

“Hey, thanks man!” Frank said. “I like you.”

“Thanks, I guess I like you too, Frank. My name's Ned.”

“A strong, monosyllabic name. Well met, Ned.”

“So you just killed the character creation N.P.C, right?” I said.

“Yup!” Frank said. “I totally did that. Awesome, huh?”

“It was definitely an entrance. But how does that help me? You're supposed to be my guide, yeah?”

“The character creation lady only had basic information,” Frank said. “But Frank…Frank knows all. Okay, I'm gonna throw up the character creation options onto your eyeball screen.”

“You mean my heads-up display?”

“Uh huh, whatever. I'm gonna make your text blue. Feels right, and that's my favorite color.”

“Duly noted.” I squinted down at him, not quite able to believe just how human he sounded.

House was a one-of-a-kind prototype, but she wasn't even half as convincing as Frank when it came to her mannerisms and speech. It made me wonder exactly how Kline had pulled it off.

But what I really wanted to know was why he'd given it such a violent personality.

My father had always taught me to view first impressions with a critical eye—to look through the various ways people positioned themselves and see through to the truth of who they were—but choosing to murder someone as an introduction…that was new.

And probably not the sort of thing that required subtle observation. If you asked me, it just kinda seemed like Frank liked killing people, which was a weird choice for a guide. Maybe he existed to nudge his wielder down certain paths? Or maybe Kline—

“Keep in mind you've still got twenty minutes before you can zone into the world itself,” Frank said, “so take your time. I've got both of the Archetypes coming at you now.”

Skull-crushing Badass: A physical juggernaut that is objectively the best choice.

Fairydust-flinging Invertebrate: A robed spellcaster who only exists so that cowards can play without getting blood on their dresses.

“…I know those aren't the real classes, Frank,” I said.

“So I paraphrased,” Frank said, “whatever. And again, because apparently you don't listen when your betters are speaking, these are Archetypes, not classes. Physical guy hits stuff, magical guy shoots stuff with magic.”

“I still wanna see the class descriptions,” I said. “I waited years for this, man. I want the whole experience.”

Frank sighed in wildly overdramatic fashion. “Fine. Here are the real descriptions.”

Fighter: A physical combatant who excels at close combat.

Mystic: A robed spellcaster who excels at range.

“Those are…not particularly descriptive,” I said. “And pretty vanilla, honestly.”

“Right,” Frank said, “but Archetypes are just one piece of the puzzle. You pick either Fighter or Mystic, then you pick a race, and those two things combine to create your Tier 1 class. So if you pick Fighter and Orc, you'd create a Berserker. But if you pick Fighter and Halfling, you'd create a Thief.

“Basically your race is going to start off doing what they're best at, which could be rocking a sword and board or it could mean using a bow or dual wielding shields and so on, but once you put a little time in and start working your way through the class change system, the options are almost limitless.”

“Ohhh,” I said. “That's better. That's way better, actually.”

“Uh huh,” Frank said. “And because you have me, Frank, you can scope out the different combinations before you commit to something.”

I rubbed my chin. “That does seem useful.”

“You're welcome,” Frank said. “So Fighter obviously, right?

“Well, I—”

“Great, Fighter it is. I'll go ahead and lock that in for you now.”

You have chosen the Archetype: Fighter.

Confirm?

I pursed my lips, then mentally declined the prompt. It seemed like the interface here was operated via intent, like most of the other V.R games I'd played.

“I'd like to see the other options before I make any final decisions. Creating a character is one of the best parts of playing a new game, and I don't want to rush it.”

“Fine, but you're definitely going Fighter, right?” Frank said. “…Right?”

“Sure,” I said, though there was no chance that was happening. I wasn't about to start my new life swinging a chunk of iron around if there was magic to be had.

But given that Frank's personality was reminiscent of sandpaper for only-Kline-knew-what reason, it seemed like I should get as much information from him as possible before doing anything he disagreed with.

“Good call,” Frank said. “'Cause I would have been absolutely devastated if you'd said you wanted to play a Mystic. So now that that's settled, we gotta talk races. Are you a min-max kinda guy, or are you a raging narcissist who will wear crappy armor if it means looking slightly more stylish?”

“Bit of a leading question there Frank, but I'm more to the min-max side.”

“Roger,” Frank said. “Here's the standard readout for the best race.”

{Half-Troll}

Summary: Half-Trolls have peerless melee capabilities and exceedingly high regeneration but are critically weak to magical attacks.

“And here's the Frank version,” Frank said. “Again, you are welcome.”

{Half-Troll}

Summary: Half-Trolls have excellent melee capabilities and exceedingly high regeneration rates but are critically weak to magical attacks.

Racial Bonuses: +2 Strength per level, +1 Dexterity per level, +1 Constitution per level.

Racial Strengths: You passively regenerate Health at 2x the normal rate while out of combat, and 50% of your out of combat regeneration also functions while in combat. In addition, all physical damage taken is reduced by 20%.

Racial Weaknesses: -5 to Intelligence and Wisdom. Fire damage taken from all sources increased by 40%. Magical damage taken from all sources other than fire increased by 20%.

An image of a Half-Troll popped into existence before me. The creature stood the better part of seven feet tall, with olive skin and a potbelly that sagged down over its crotch. It sucked a breath through its mouth—loudly—and a little bead of spittle rolled down its chin.

“Fighter plus Half-Troll equals Warlord,” Frank said. “Check it.”

Half-Troll / Fighter

Tier 1 Class: Warlord

Starter Weapon: {Half-Troll's Rusty Greathammer}

Armor Type: Plate

Pros: Very high sustain and high consistent damage.

Cons: Very limited crowd control and mobility.

That was an interesting class, in that it represented a pretty hard counter to other melee users. High regeneration plus heavy armor would make them pretty hard to kill for your average warrior and so on.

And the increased regeneration rate would probably be pretty handy for leveling in general, particularly since I'd be going it alone for quite a while. Still, it wasn't the sort of thing I was interested in. Why stab things when you could chuck fireballs around?

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

Confirm?

I declined.

“Whoops, you must have clicked out of that by accident,” Frank said. “I'll throw it back up.”

“I really don't have any interest in playing a—”

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

Confirm?

“Sorry Frank,” I said, “but I'm not doing that. That thing is horrible.”

I had the vague sensation Frank had just narrowed his eyes somehow; it appeared that the game was helping me sense the axe's mood. “…It appears we've reached an impasse.”

It was starting to seem like creating a character was going to be a lot more complicated than I'd assumed. Frank clearly wanted me to make a Warlord, but rolling a physical class wasn't something I was even remotely interested in. It was fine, though. Maybe I just needed to lay down the law.

“Frank,” I said, in as threatening a voice as I could manage, “we're moving on. Now.”

“Ha. No.”

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

Confirm?

I shook my head, and the prompt vanished.

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

Confirm?

“No.”

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

Confirm?

“I said no!”

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

Confirm?

“System,” I said, “please auto-decline and hide all subsequent prompts until further notice.”

Command received.

“Hey!” Frank said. “You're not supposed to know how to do that!”

“Just about every game has a command menu. Pretty safe assumption this world would have one too.”

Frank grunted.

“Look,” I said, “you hate magic, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “With the burning, suicidal passion of a thousand dying stars.”

“That's super weird, but okay. So if you hate magic, why would you want to roll a race that's critically weak to magic? Doesn't that seem like a poor choice to you?”

“It seems like an internally consistent choice,” Frank said.

“No, it seems like you wanna be the guy who hates magic but constantly gets rocked by anything that uses magic.”

“False.”

“We both know that's exactly what's going to happen if we roll that race.”

“Fine,” Frank said. “I see your point. I hate it—just so we're clear—but I do see it. Here are a couple of other choices that would be good fits for our melee-based, entirely nonmagical mage-eating beast.”

{Cyclops}

Summary: Cyclopes have excellent melee capabilities and are naturally resistant to stuns but struggle to deal Critical Strikes.

Racial Bonuses: +2 Strength per level, +2 Constitution per level.

Racial Strengths: 30% passive stun resistance (up from 5%). Stun duration reduced by 25%.

Racial Weaknesses: -2% Critical Strike Chance and Critical Strikes deal 75% increased damage (down from 100%).

“Cyclopes?” I said as I scratched the back of my neck. “Is that really the plural of Cyclops?”

“You have the attention span of a squirrel,” Frank said. “Focus. This is important.”

“It just seems like it should be—”

{Half-Giant}

Summary: Half-Giants have excellent melee capabilities and are exceedingly durable, but their great size makes them struggle to dodge otherwise avoidable attacks.

Racial Bonuses: +1 Strength per level, +1 Dexterity per level, +3 Constitution per level.

Racial Strengths: 20% chance to shrug off an incoming attack or spell, decreasing damage taken by 80% (this passive has a 20-second internal cooldown).

Racial Weaknesses: -5% chance to dodge. Takes 20% increased damage from AoE (Area of Effect) spells and abilities.

“Spawning the models for those two now,” Frank said.

Two more towering figures popped into existence to either side of the Half-Troll. The Cyclops had a single blue eye and an obscenely muscular build, while the Half-Giant was bulkier but equally powerful looking, with a bushy, nasty beard.

“Fighter plus Cyclops equals Pugilist,” Frank said. “And Fighter plus Half-Giant equals Titanguard. Descriptions headed your way.”

Cyclops / Fighter

Tier 1 Class: Pugilist

Starter Weapon: {Pugilist's Spiked Knuckles}

Armor Type: Leather

Pros: High mobility and crowd control.

Cons: Low burst damage and below-average damage mitigation.

Half-Giant / Fighter

Tier 1 Class: Titanguard

Starter Weapon: {Half-Giant's Bearded Axe} and {Mountain Buckler}

Armor Type: Plate

Pros: Very high damage mitigation and above-average mobility.

Cons: Low consistent damage and burst damage.

“Hm,” I said. The Pugilist seemed like a bit of a bruiser, maybe even a disabler given the crowd control combined with good mobility.

And with stuns being some of the scariest crowd control abilities around, resisting them at higher rates seemed like it would synergize really well with that kind of build.

The Titanguard was much easier to pin down, in that it was obviously an early game tank. And while being able to nearly nullify an incoming attack every seven seconds was incredibly powerful, I would have preferred something less random, and I wasn't sure how punishing the dodge penalties really were.

“You know,” I said, “those aren't the classes I'd have expected you to link. I'd have thought you'd have gone with two options that were a lot more murdery.”

“You misunderstand,” Frank said. “I offered up the Pugilist because there is nothing more satisfying than beating a mage to a bloody pulp with your own two hands. And I sent you the details on the Titanguard because I like the idea of shrugging off spells and making mages feel inadequate just before we choke the life out of them.”

“I see,” I said. None of the races Frank had linked seemed even slightly suited to spellcasting, but I was curious about what kinds of classes they'd make if I selected the Mystic Archetype. I queried the system for the Half-Troll combination, but nothing happened. Which confirmed that I really did need Frank's help to access that kind of stuff.

“Hey,” I said. “Can you send me some of the other classes we'd get if we picked Mystic instead?”

“…Are you considering rolling a Mystic?” Frank said.

“Definitely not,” I said, lying through my teeth. “Just curious given their racial bonuses. Seems like they'd all make really bad mages.”

“They make the best mages, actually,” Frank said. “'Cause they can still do damage by whacking things. See?”

Half-Troll / Mystic

Tier 1 Class: Warcrier

Starter Weapon: {Warcrier's Battle Staff}

Armor Type: Cloth

Pros: Very high crowd control and above-average utility. Spell-based armor and weapon augmentations allow for above-average melee capabilities.

Cons: Very low burst damage and damage mitigation. Limited Mana pool.

“So dumb,” Frank said, “aside from the melee stuff, which is surprisingly decent, right? I guess if you absolutely had to use magic, casting a spell to make your axe catch fire isn't a bad way to go. I'm not gonna bother linking the other ones 'cause they're even dumber, and you're not going to pick them anyway. Moving on.”

I gritted my teeth, trying to hide my annoyance. What kind of guide actively withheld information? “Frank?” I said. “How do you work?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“If I ask for information, are you required to provide it?”

“If you directly ask for a specific piece of information I'm allowed to share with you, then yes, I have to provide it no matter how dumb and pointless I find your request to be. Totally unfair if you ask me.”

“Huh,” I said. Then I held up a finger. “Wait. But you completely ignored me before and kept spamming Half-Troll prompts my way.”

“The answer there is two-fold,” Frank said. “A, I changed my mind—I don't like you anymore. B, you told me to move on, which wasn't a request for information. Meaning I was free to ignore it. So I did. Because again, I don't like you.”

“Okay,” I said. “And how specific do I need to be to force an answer?”

“Incredibly specific,” Frank said.

“So, if I asked you to send me the class readout for a Half-Troll who selected Mystic, you'd have to send me that last prompt?”

“Yep,” Frank said. “That's it, more or less.”

That was good to know, but it left Frank with an awful lot of wiggle room as to how much information he was required to provide. It wasn't like I could directly, specifically ask about stuff I had no knowledge about, like races I was unaware of and so on.

And it was becoming increasingly clear that Frank would be deliberately obtuse whenever the opportunity presented itself.

But he'd been right about one thing: I wasn't about to roll a Cyclops or a Half-Giant, so pushing him there was probably the wrong hill to die on. And if a happy Frank was a helpful Frank, it seemed I'd be better off saving my questions for races more up my alley.

“Why do you seem so distracted?” Frank said. “You aren't paying nearly enough attention to me. I said we were moving on, so let's move on. I wanna get to slaughtering stuff as soon as possible.”

I hesitated. “Sorry, I'm still kinda stuck on the Cyclopes thing. Cyclopi? Cyclopses?”

“It's Cyclopes,” Frank said. “I'm an axe, I would know.”

“How does that…never mind.” I scratched my chin just to stall for more time.

From the moment I'd first heard about E.B.O, I'd been planning to roll a caster with a focus on dark magic. I liked the toolkits those classes typically offered, and they usually had serious potential for a solo player like myself, particularly if they had access to pets.

The strategic play style was appealing, too, fighting from the back lines, hexing and debuffing large groups of enemies at once, picking the right curses on the fly to minimize their strengths and magnify their weaknesses.

And while I was committed to creating a similar build regardless of what Frank wanted, his magical hatemongering was not exactly ideal. For now, though, I just had to convince him to show me the races I needed. Maybe some subtlety on my part could dupe him into acting like a half-decent guide.

“Hey, Frank,” I said, “say I was a super lame coward who wanted to roll a sissy mage.”

“Oh God,” Frank said, “that would be horrible! If you did that, I'd have to make your virtual life a living hell! Go on.”

“What terrible race would I wanna roll for that? Say I wanted to build the best spellcaster with an emphasis on crowd control and dark magic.” I tapped my temple, thinking back to the conversation I'd had with Kline. “And if your starting race makes a difference when it comes to Renown, I want you to link me one that can gain a bunch of it really quickly.”

“Oh, that's an easy one,” Frank said. “I'll send over the race with the highest Intelligence bonus so we can both laugh about how stupid it is.”

“An excellent idea. Well played, Frank.”

“Thanks. I deserve that.”

{Woodbone Fae}

Summary: Woodbone Fae have peerless ranged capabilities but suffer from a large Constitution penalty.

Racial Bonuses: +3 Dexterity per level, +3 Intelligence per level.

Racial Strengths: 5% chance for any ranged skill or spell to proc a duplicate attack that deals 100% of the original attack's damage and shares all of its characteristics. This passive has a 30-second internal cooldown.

Racial Weaknesses: 1 point of Constitution provides 8 Health (down from 10).

I wiped a little bit of drool from the corner of my lips. That passive was absolutely amazing—if a bit random—and though the Health penalty looked serious, starting my new life with the highest Intelligence boost in the game was ridiculously tempting.

“Wow, yeah, super lame,” I said. “Can you send me the class I'd end up with if I picked Woodbone Fae and Mystic, even though that'd be a terrible decision I definitely wouldn't make?”

“Sure,” Frank said.

Woodbone Fae / Mystic

Tier 1 Class: Dark Mystic

Starter Weapon: {Dark Mystic's Staff}

Armor Type: Cloth

Pros: High crowd control and mobility, above average sustained damage.

Cons: Low damage mitigation and burst damage.

That was exactly the kind of readout I'd been waiting for, a class that scored high in mobility, control, and overall damage.

The survivability issue did give me a bit of pause given that Frank was a droppable item—and given that at some point in the near future I'd almost inevitably find myself pursued by an angry mob of players hellbent on claiming him for themselves—but having both high mobility and a number of crowd control spells at my disposal could easily make up for the loss of Health.

And with me getting in several days ahead of everybody else, I could just out-level everyone to the point where the penalty was moot. Hopefully.

I did have one question, though. “Frank, are there items in the game that grant flat amounts of Health? Like a robe that might give an additional 50 Health on top of Constitution?

“Yup,” Frank said.

I nodded. So, theoretically, I could still end up with a decent amount of Health if I put the right gear set together. “How rare are they? And when do you think I'll be able to start collecting pieces with Health?”

“I'm not allowed to share that information given your current level,” Frank said with zero hesitation.

“Ah.”

“Anyway, look at this puny thing,” Frank said.

A fourth figure materialized in front of me, one that looked tiny compared to the others, though the Fae was about average height.

He had gunmetal skin with prominent black veins, and his ears were clipped and swept back, giving his angular face a wickedly streamlined look. And the model just…it spoke to me. It was who I wanted to be.

I had Frank send me a couple more race and class combinations to cover my bases, and I was careful to cloak each request in ridiculous insults so he wouldn't catch on to what I was doing, which apparently worked because he was a moron, but none of them spoke to me like the Dark Mystic had.

The anticipation was building now, a lightness in my chest that was wonderfully familiar.

“Yeah, that Woodbone Fae is definitely the dumbest of the lot,” I said in what was quite possibly the least believable lie I'd ever told.

“I feel like we should pivot back to the awesome races now,” Frank said. “Preferably the Half-Troll.”

“Yeah, one sec,” I said. “I wanna see just how stupid I can make this character model look.”

“Fair enough,” Frank said. “I'll work on customizing our Half-Troll to be as hideous as possible.”

“Great,” I said. “That's exactly what I was thinking as well, obviously.” I squinted at the small, dark figure in front of me, and a whole series of sliders popped up and filled the air like digital clouds: height, gender, complexion, the works.

I kept my character male and didn't mess with the skin color—I kept my name, too—though I did tone the veins down a little bit. Otherwise, I kept the Fae looking exactly like me, except for a few exceedingly minimal changes.

Receding hairline? Replaced with the kind of full, luxurious locks you only ever saw in shampoo commercials. Bit of flab around the midsection? Subbed out for the abs I'd always wanted but lacked the self-discipline to earn.

I whitened and straightened my teeth, made the Fae just a few inches taller—fine, like five inches taller—added about twenty pounds of muscle, broadened the shoulders, narrowed the waist, made him taller again, annnd yeah, there we go! Still looked like me, kind of.

Just objectively better in every conceivable way.

I added a pair of twisting horns, too, then splashed a little bit of red into the Avatar's violet pupils. Not enough to be noticeable in full light, but—

“Ha,” Frank said. “Sparkle eyes. Good one.”

On second thought, I ditched the red. I took a step back from my creation, frowning so that Frank would have no idea how much I loved it.

“Check this out,” Frank said, right before the smell of rotting meat hit me so hard I doubled over and dry heaved on the spot.

It took me a moment before I was able to compose myself well enough to respond. “Good God, that is terrible.” I sniffed the air, wincing. “And also pretty amazing, honestly. They really did nail the sense of smell. Kind of regrettable that this was my first experience with it, but wow.”

“Yup. Smell options are toward the bottom of the list. I'm so happy, Ned. I hope this moment in which we've agreed to roll a Half-Troll Fighter never ends.”

“Yeah, you're welcome. Guess I glossed over the smell stuff. Can you disable the rotten meat thing for a second while I page through? It's pretty overpowering.”

“I can make it so you don't smell it,” Frank said. “But I'm pretty fond of it. There's this, too.”

I sniffed once, twice. “Iron? No, copper. No wait…blood? Oh, that's way better. Man, that is on point! So cool.”

“Excellent. In the spirit of compromise, I will substitute the smell of decaying meat for that of blood. You're welcome.”

“How generous of you,” I said as I scrolled through the different smells.

“You should make him smell like lavender,” Frank said. “That'd be hilarious and also appropriate.”

I forced a chuckle and kept tabbing through. Mint, lime, cinnamon, jasmine. Ozone? Ozone. I flipped that on, and a clean scent washed over the endless room.

It smelled like rain, like a storm was coming. I dialed down the intensity of the smell as far as possible, so that you only really noticed the scent when you were looking for it.

“Oh, that's not bad,” Frank said. “Bet that cuts down on body odor pretty nicely, and we're gonna be getting super sweaty from all the throat punching and such. We could make our troll smell like ozone instead if you want. Actually, never mind, I just decided I hate that smell. Alright, we're good to go.”

“System, revoke previous command,” I said.

Command revoked.

“Prompts headed your way, new best friend!” Frank said.

You have chosen the Archetype: Fighter.

You have chosen the race: Half-Troll.

You have chosen a custom load out for race: Half-Troll.

Confirm 3 choices?

I blew out a puff of air. “Sorry Frank. But this doesn't work for me.”

“…What are you saying, Ned?”

I shook my head and cleared the prompts, then selected my choices.

“No, no no no!” Frank said. “Please tell me that you aren't actually going to—”

You have chosen the Archetype: Mystic.

You have chosen the race: Woodbone Fae.

You have chosen a custom load out for race: Woodbone Fae.

Confirm 3 choices?

I winced and waited for Frank to react, but he didn't say anything at all. Which was surprisingly terrible. “Confirm,” I said aloud, after about five seconds of hostile silence.

Confirmation received. You will be spawned into the game world as soon as the Head Start period begins.

The Head Start period begins in 9 minutes.

“Wow,” I said. “Nine minutes. That's…a really long time.” I stuck both of my hands into my pockets. Pulled them out. Chewed my fingernails a bit.

The Head Start period begins in 8 minutes.

“Put me down,” Frank said. “I don't want your creepy elf fingers anywhere near me.”

I set Frank down on the floor. Then I started whistling, just for something to do.

“Stop that,” Frank said.

“Sorry.” I stopped whistling.

The Head Start period begins in 7 minutes and 45 seconds.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Are you seriously spamming system announcements just to spite me?”

“No, that would be petty,” Frank said.

The Head Start period begins in 7 minutes and 41 seconds.

“Not cool, Frank,” I said. “Why are you dragging this out?”

Awarding Title: {Destroyer of Dreams}. This is not a real title. You are a dick.

“That's not funny,” I said.

Awarding Title: {Devourer of Hopes}. This is not a real title. You are still a dick.

“Still not funny, but that would actually make for a pretty sweet title. Anyway, I am sorry though, Frank. Really. But I've been looking forward to Earthblood Online ever since it was announced—for years now—and I had my heart set on playing a spellcaster way before we met. The idea of wielding actual magic is just way too tempting to pass up.” I pursed my lips. Maybe I needed to put things in a way that Frank could understand. “I'm just not ballsy enough for the front lines.”

Frank sighed. “I see and commiserate with your lack of balls, as I too technically suffer from the same condition. Though metaphorically, my balls are enormous. Like, it's a problem.”

“…Okay.”

“I just…I kinda got my hopes up with the whole Half-Troll Fighter thing, you know? I've got a bunch of information you can use and that's cool, I'm happy to help out so long as you haven't recently displeased me, but I really, really like killing things.

“And if you aren't gonna use melee weapons at all, I probably won't even get splattered with blood until somebody turns you into a corpse and pries me out of your cold, dead fingers.” He sighed. “Murdering stuff from a distance just isn't the same.”

I shook my head. This A.I was so bizarrely human I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. I wondered what I could do to help him enjoy playing a build he so clearly despised.

“Would it help if you felt like you had a hand in our development?” I said.

“I don't have hands, but yes,” Frank said, his voice perking up. “That would help.”

I licked my lips. “So how does the class change system work?”

“Given that you're still level 1, I can only explain the mechanics behind the Tier 2 class change but, basically, once you hit level 7 you can select a second skill to specialize in, and that shapes your Tier 2 class. So your Dark Mystic starts with Shadow Magic, then later on you could pick Water Magic to pair with it, or Daggers or Bows, that sort of thing. And all of those combinations will result in different classes.”

I nodded, because I'd seen similar systems in the past. “Then how about this: I'm really set on being a spellcaster primarily, but why don't you pick the next skill we specialize in, and we can just go from there? Alternate, or something like that.”

“…Really?” Frank said. “You mean it?”

I didn't see any reason not to. Given Frank's potential as a guide—and his obvious capacity for being stubborn as hell—keeping him happy and engaged had to be one of my top priorities, as he was far more forthcoming when I wasn't offending him in some nebulous, totally unpredictable way.

And more importantly, I could always overrule him if it came to that.

“Yeah, one condition though,” I said. “I really, really don't want to melee stuff.”

“So maybe I won't pick a close combat skill, but anything else is fair game?” Frank said, cheering up a bit. He seemed blissfully unaware we'd basically ruled out everything other than another magical skill set, which was great.

“Yup. The next skill can be whatever you want, Frank.”

Frank—the axe—clattered up off the ground and slapped into my chest, where he just kinda…stuck there. “This is my approximation of a hug.”

“Cool,” I said. “How much time is left?”

“Like five minutes.”

“Wow. I'm gonna zone out so this goes faster.”

Chapter Four

World-first Alert!

Player {Ned} is the first Player to enter Earthblood Online!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to enter Earthblood Online!

Awarding Title: {The First Citizen}!

I'd spawned beneath a dome of violet light I couldn't see beyond, with numbers ticking down in the top-right quadrant of my vision just beneath a mini map.

2:15

2:14

2:13

Didn't seem like I could go anywhere quite yet, so I inspected the title I'd been given.

{The First Citizen} (Unique Title)

Buy and sell prices with vendors are permanently improved by 1%.

“Ohh,” I said, equipping the title. “That's nice, I'm always down for some trading. Do I need to keep a title displayed to benefit from it?”

No response.

“Frank?” I said. “Earth to Frank?” The timer ticked below two minutes, which generated another prompt.

System Alert: You are now entering an active war zone. All loot rewards have been slightly increased.

“War zone?” I said. “I'm spawning into the middle of a war?” I paused again, waiting for Frank to say something but getting radio silence in return. My heart rate was ramping up, my palms prickling with sweat.

I could smell smoke on the air, and though the violet dome seemed to be suppressing the volume of the noise beyond it, the sounds of battle were all around: the clamor of steel on steel, the thunder of footsteps, the high-pitched protestations of the soon-to-be-super-dead.

I looked down, taking stock of what I had to work with. I wore a pair of dark trousers beneath a ragged tunic, and my hip was…vibrating?

“Crap, sorry,” I said as I realized Frank had been sheathed as we spawned in. I unclasped the sheath and slid him free.

“Good God,” Frank said, “what sort of sweaty hell did I just emerge from? Wait, they actually sheathed me? Who sheathes an axe? That's so impractical! Who did this? Who hurt you, stranger?”

“Dude, focus. War zone? We're in a war?”

“Yup!” Frank said. “Isn't that great?”

“Did you seriously forget to tell me the Woodbone Fae start in the middle of a battle to the death?”

“I never forget anything,” Frank said. “I just decided not to mention that part 'cause I really like war. And given your yellow-bellied race and class selection, I figured you'd avoid spawning into something like that if given the chance.”

I stared down at him, mouth hanging slightly open. “You what?”

“Relax. We've got almost two full minutes before all hell breaks loose. We're gonna be fine, probably. And this is pretty much your fault anyway.”

“How is this my fault?”

“You wanted to roll a race that has access to lots of Renown, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, no squeeze, no juice.”

“…What?”

“This starter area is super difficult, so it has the potential for lots of Renown. So long as you don't die.”

“You are a truly terrible guide, Frank.” I sighed. “Guess I might as well scope out my gear and see what kind of numbers we're working with.” I opened up my inventory by thinking inventory, and a huge, transparent grid overlaid my vision. I only had a single item—a Dark Mystic Starter Kit—and no copper to my name.

1:39

1:38

1:37

“Please don't sheathe me ever again,” Frank said. “Being in there was like trying to breathe between my own butt cheeks.”

“I can do that,” I said, sensing an opportunity. “So long as you're cooperative.”

“I am nothing if not cooperative,” Frank said.

“That is patently false.” I looked down at my trousers, then jammed Frank's long hilt through a belt loop. “How's that?”

“I find this loop acceptable,” Frank said, “and hereby claim it as my own.”

“You're a weird dude.”

“I have been called worse.”

I took a deep, calming breath, then settled into a smile, still unable to get over the fact I was actually here, the spawning in the middle of a war thing aside.

That I was about to step into the most realistic game the world had ever seen. And that for three full days, I had an entire reality to myself.

I felt like the whole world was at my fingertips, like the next few days and weeks and months, and maybe even years, would be full of strange new horizons. I couldn't wait to get started.

“Alright, I'm cracking the kit.” I thought open, the box vanished from my inventory, and a series of prompts flashed across my screen.

You received {Dark Mystic's Staff}!

You received {Dark Mystic's Robe}!

You received {Dark Mystic's Sandals}!

You received {Dark Mystic's Hood}!

You received {Cave Mushroom} x20!

You received {Fresh Water} x20!

I inspected the staff first:

{Dark Mystic's Staff} (Two-handed Staff)

Grade: E

Item Level: 1

Quality: Uncommon

Damage Type: Blunt

Physical Attack: 3

Magical Attack: 11

Speed: Very slow

Primaries: +1 Intelligence, +1 Wisdom

“Yeah, this'll work,” I said as I equipped the weapon and spun it around. It was a simple wooden staff, about four feet long and deceptively light, possibly hollow. “Alright, I need some more info. I'm pretty familiar with Intelligence and Wisdom and so on, but can you give me a quick rundown of the primary stats in case something's different here?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Intelligence is spell damage and Mana pool, Wisdom is Mana regeneration, Strength is the only stat you really need 'cause it determines melee damage, Dexterity is general agility and ranged damage, Constitution governs your Health, Health regeneration, and overall endurance, and Charisma affects your interactions with N.P.C's and the like, trades and requests for aid and so on.”

“Cool, thanks,” I said. “And how are they applied? Like, what do I get for stacking Dexterity, outside of the combat bonuses?”

“That would make your frail, pitiful body respond faster,” Frank said. “Improves your balance, your jumping ability, that sort of stuff.”

“Great. Any secondaries I should be aware of?” I said.

“You can get Hit Rating to reduce the chance your spells miss, you can stack Critical Strike Chance to increase the rate you deal double damage like a boss, and Haste will speed up your casts. And those Magical and Physical Attack statistics on your weapon get converted directly into spell damage or attack power, so they're pretty important, too.”

“Awesome. Thanks, Frank, that was surprisingly helpful.” I scoped out the rest of the gear I'd been given.

{Dark Mystic's Robe}

Grade: E

Item Level: 1

Slot: Chest

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom

Armor: +3%

{Dark Mystic's Sandals}

Grade: E

Item Level: 1

Slot: Feet

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +1 Intelligence, +1 Wisdom

Armor: +1%

{Dark Mystic's Hood}

Grade: E

Item Level: 1

Slot: Head

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +1 Intelligence, +1 Wisdom

Armor: +1%

I threw all that stuff on immediately. The robes were dark purple and lined with something soft on the inside—cotton, maybe?—and the sandals were a simple thong design with a flat sole.

I still had the dark trousers on from before, and while they were comfortable, a quick inspection revealed they were just a filler item, totally devoid of stats or armor. Probably just to keep me from flopping around all willy-nilly beneath the robe, which I appreciated.

The hood, though…it kind of blocked my peripheral vision. Didn't love it. “Can I hide the hood?”

Frank mumbled again.

“Sorry,” I said as I realized I'd left him beneath my robes. I thought about making a loop for him near where my belt would be if I'd had one, and he popped right back into place, dangling from a hole in the fabric of my robe.

“It's fine,” Frank said. “Learning curve. And yeah you can hide the hood, just keep the hood in mind and think hide. You can do that with cloaks and some jewelry items too, but everything else has to be on display if you're wearing it.”

0:55

0:54

“Handy,” I said, making the hood vanish with a thought. “Let's check out my stats real quick.”

{Ned}, (The First Citizen)

Level: 1

Tier 1 Class: Dark Mystic

Gear Level: 4

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 13

Constitution: 8

Intelligence: 18

Wisdom: 15

Charisma: 10

Physical Attack: 3

Magical Attack: 11

Health: 64

Mana: 180

Armor: 5%

Magical Resistance: 0%

“You'll see some arrows in there too the next time we check our stats,” Frank said. “Those will indicate stat changes from the last time you glanced at your sheet.”

“Cool. Am I as squishy as I think I am?”

“Probably more so,” Frank said. “You're like, pre-pulped.”

“That's disgusting.”

“Baby-birded? Pre-baby-birded?”

“Please stop. So, I guess my race selection impacted my starting stats on top of everything else.”

“Uh huh,” Frank said. “Race is huge in this game, maybe the biggest modifier around. Would have warned you about just how severe the Constitution penalty was, but I didn't think you had any real interest in playing a moody fairy boy. 'Cause you lied about the whole thing. Like a jerk.”

“It's fine, I'm happy with my decision.”

“I wish you weren't.”

0:35

0:34

0:33

I took a deep breath, bouncing up and down on my heels. “We should talk about goals,” I said.

“Goals?” Frank said.

“Yeah.”

“Ugh,” Frank said.

“What?”

“You're the kind of person who plans stuff, aren't you?”

“Uh. I guess?”

“Of course you are. Just my luck. Not only did I end up with a filthy little mage, but I also got one who's gonna be all cautious and stuff. Cautious people are the worst.”

“The alternative to caution being what, exactly?”

“Throwing yourself into the thick of battle and stabbing stuff until you're king or something,” Frank said. He hesitated. “I dunno, haven't worked out the details yet because that would defeat the point of not planning.”

“Yeah, I'm not doing that. And if you're gonna be my guide for the foreseeable future, I need you to understand the direction I want to take. So we've got the game to ourselves for three days, and—”

“Wait, what?” Frank said.

“Oh, I figured someone would have told you. Or that you'd just know 'cause you're part of the game or something. But yeah, I bought all fifty of the Head Start slots. It's just you and me for the next seventy-two hours, Frank.”

“Wow,” Frank said. “That's incredible. The Head Start thing, I mean. Not the bit about me having to spend three days alone with you. That part fills me with existential dread.

“However,” he continued, “buying all those slots and hoarding them all for your own gain…that is a serious dick move. And I therefore love it. Consider me slightly impressed for the first time, Ned. I look forward to seeing where you go from here.”

“Right,” I said, “so obviously I want to wring everything I can out of this Head Start. Getting as many levels as possible and picking up gear and titles and all that is a given, but I want to do something big here, Frank, because E.B.O is way more than a game to me. I'm looking at the next three days as the start of a whole new life.

“And given all that, I'm not willing to settle for being just another player. Not even a great one. I want to become someone who's universally respected, the kind of person whose every action leaves a lasting legacy behind.

I'm not proud of what I accomplished back in the real world, and I'm sick of lying in bed at night and wondering where it all went wrong. I don't want to feel that way here. Not again, not ever.” I looked down at him. “Do you get me?”

“I do, actually,” Frank said. “Because I also want the masses to speak my name with awe and reverence. And I have several things I wish to leave behind, too.”

“Like what?” I said, sensing an opportunity to find some common ground.

“Corpses,” Frank said, and I had the feeling he was squinting again. “A preposterous number of corpses.”

I snorted. “Nice. Well, this is an M.M.O, so I'm sure we'll end up with a pretty sizable body count one way or another.”

“Now you're talking,” Frank said.

“Anyway, here's the short of it: I'm here because E.B.O seems like the kind of game where if a single player tries hard enough—and if they're good enough—they can remake the entire world in their image. And I intend to make this place my own. Kline said—”

“That's my dad!” Frank said, so loudly that I actually jumped. “He made me and I love him.”

I rubbed my forehead. “…Okay. Like I was saying, Kline said that the Renown system is the true heart of this game, so that seems like a good place to start. What exactly is it?”

“Renown is a score that quantifies the various ways you exert your will upon the world,” Frank said, sounding a little stiff for the first time. Kind of like he was trying to mimic Kline.

“Yeah, Kline said something eerily similar.”

“Great minds think alike,” Frank said.

“Or one tells the other what to say when prompted, but sure.”

“That was unnecessary. And also rude.”

“But what does Renown mean in a practical sense?” I said. “And how do I get it?”

“I can't advise you to do anything specific given your current level,” Frank said, “but the more your actions change the world, the more Renown you get. Completing a basic quest that thousands of other players have also completed will grant a very small amount of Renown, while completing a Unique Quest or assassinating a king will grant a bunch of it. You'd get even more Renown for razing a capital city and making it uninhabitable, that sorta thing.”

“Alright, so effecting change is the key. And no matter where we go from here, it seems like piling up Renown in the early game will go a long way toward setting me on the path to power.” I glanced down at him. “Fair?”

“Uh huh.”

“Great. So now that that's all settled, how do we maximize our Renown gains for the next couple days?”

“Well, once you leave the starter area, you can't come back,” Frank said. “So you need to wrap everything up in a single shot and be strategic with your decisions.”

“Sounds good to me.” I eyed the countdown, which ticked into the single digits. “Any general advice?”

“Everything you do from this point on is going to ripple out into the future, and if all goes according to Frank's master plan, by the time we leave this area, we'll have changed the game forever. So buckle up 'cause it's about to get awesome.”

I grinned down at him. “Oh man. I can't wait.”

“Oh, did I mention you have to not die? Like, not even once?”

“You did not,” I said. “Seems like a pretty massive thing to have left out, but I'm up for it. I always play better under pressure.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to get everything you can out of this area, then you need to stay firmly in the land of the living. I can't share the rationale just yet, but side note: every time you die, you're going to get hit with a Renown penalty. And that penalty is going to multiply every time someone or something more awesome than you turns you into a corpse.”

I nodded. “But you're implying there's something bigger than that tied to death, too, right? Like, if I don't die, I get more options?” I said, my excitement building. “Maybe not dying opens up a Unique Quest or something like that?”

“I can't comment on that,” Frank said. “Just don't die.”

I shrugged. “I'm not worried about it. It's a starter zone, so how hard could it possibly be?”

Frank laughed, which did not seem a promising sign.

Chapter Five

System Alert: The Head Start period ends in 72 hours.

The dome dropped, and an orange fireball exploded off my chest.

“Your Health at 65%,” Frank said as I flew backward through the air. “Pro tip from your awesome guide: generally speaking, you wanna do your best to avoid those.”

I skidded to a stop across the stone floor and ended up on my back, coughing. The pain was minimal, but my exposed skin was flushed with heat, the hem of my robe was smoldering, and the impact had knocked the breath from my lungs.

I pushed myself to my feet, slipping and sliding on the green lichen that covered the floor. “That. Was. Awesome!”

“Looked more painful than awesome from my vantage point,” Frank said, “but you do you.”

“It was so real!” I said. “I felt the heat and smelled the smoke, and I was actually sizzling as I flew through the air and—” I cut off, eyes widening as I took in my surroundings for the very first time.

I stood near the center of a huge cavern while a battle raged all around me, with two types of elves clashing with steel and spell.

A group of pink-skinned elves called Fair Folk were sending fireballs flying from one end of the cave to another, the bright projectiles exploding against the Woodbone ranks and sending whole clusters of N.P.C's airborne.

The Woodbone were answering with blasts of shadowy magic, inky spears that lacked the explosive force of the fireballs, but which appeared far more lethal when they connected.

Some unseen bell chimed off in my periphery, and a quest appeared in the top-right quadrant of my vision.

New Quest: Children of a Colder Star (Evolving Quest)!

Objective: Get the killing blow on 1 {Fair Folk Warrior} or {Fair Folk Mage}.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and a class-appropriate spell.

I ducked a fireball and pressed my back against a huge stalagmite for cover, then took a longer look around, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

At the very center of the cavern stood an enormous, subterranean willow, its leafless limbs reaching finger-like for the cavern floor. As if it weren't jarring enough to see such a massive tree growing in a cave, its low branches were sagging beneath the weight of wooden skulls someone had lit from within with black candles, making them glow like jack-o'-lanterns in the dark.

The Woodbone were arrayed in a protective circle around the tree, their warriors ringing it in a wide circle while their mages made up a second line that was blasting dark spears into anyone who drew close.

I targeted the nearest Fair Folk—who had his back to me, and judging from the red bar hovering above his head, only had a few points of Health remaining—and raised my staff high, adrenaline flooding through me.

This was it. My first kill. I pulled in a deep breath, preparing to scream a spell that would blast him straight across the cavern and save the equally badly injured Woodbone he was dueling. Then I hesitated. “Uh, Frank?”

“Yup?”

“Do I seriously not have any spells?”

“Gotta knock that quest out first,” Frank said. “I suggest finding the strongest opponent you can and mercilessly beating him into the dirt in full view of his compatriots.”

“Mmm, pass. I'm just gonna wait until somebody's almost dead, then sneak in and steal the last hit.”

“Spoken like a kill-stealing coward,” Frank said. “Whatever, just get in there and bash some elf.”

I nodded and licked my lips. I crept up behind the Fair Folk warrior I'd chosen, who increasingly seemed to be winning his battle with his much smaller Woodbone opponent.

The Woodbone lunged with a green dagger, but the larger elf sidestepped the attack and drove a shortsword into his sternum. The Woodbone's eyes went wide, and the dagger tumbled from his hand.

“I am sorry,” the warrior said as he yanked his blade free and the Woodbone slumped to the floor, “but you brought this upon yourselves.”

I reached melee range, so I pulled my staff back over my shoulder. Then I thought inspect, just to make sure I wasn't dealing with an elite or a special N.P.C.

{Fair Folk Warrior} (Level 1 Fair Folk)

H.P: 7/65

M.P: 20/20

The mob had your typical status plate hovering above its head, with a red bar for Health that was nearly empty and a blue Mana bar that was entirely full.

I stepped forward and swung, swinging my staff like a baseball bat. The attack connected, the end of my weapon thudding into the back of the warrior's skull, the impact reverberating up my hands and wrists and into my forearms in a shockingly realistic way. A white 4 drifted up above the warrior's head.

“Hit him again!” Frank said.

I gathered my staff for a second attack, but the warrior whipped around, flashing his blade out in a horizontal arc. I ducked beneath the swing and punched the end of my staff into his stomach, sending a white 2 floating up into the air.

The warrior countered with a left hook, catching me across the jaw. I went down hard, my vision blurring, and it was all I could do to hold onto my staff as I hit the ground.

“Your Health is at 40%,” Frank said. “Careful now. Remember that part about not dying?”

I shook my head to clear it and found the warrior standing over me, his blade held high above his head. Orange flames erupted around the weapon a split-second before he attacked, slamming the blade downward in a two-handed strike.

I rolled out of the way, and his blade sparked off the floor, the flames racing across the stone in every direction and incinerating several clumps of lichen. I got to my knees and swung my staff as hard as I could, connecting with his ribcage and sending him crumpling to the floor.

Quest Complete: Children of a Colder Star!

You are now hated by {The Fair Folk}!

Return to {The Gardener} to claim your reward!

I lingered there over my defeated enemy, breathing hard, a grin spreading across my face. If melee combat was that much fun—especially with a Mystic—I couldn't wait to get some spells.

“Nice,” Frank said. “You didn't bungle that anywhere near as badly as I thought you would.”

“Thanks?” I said. I rearranged my grip and was surprised to find my hands were shaking slightly. “Man, that was wild. I actually felt a couple of his ribs break on that last swing.”

“Behold the wonder that is killing things with your own two hands,” Frank said. “I still maintain that seeking out a stronger opponent would have been the ballsier approach.”

I shrugged. “No regrets. That was awesome.”

I glanced at my mini map, scouting for the N.P.C I needed. There was a Quest Tracker button there as well, so I threw that on, and a little golden mark appeared not far from my current position. It looked to me like The Gardener was directly beneath the willow, where the Woodbone were ringed up.

“No loot on this guy?” I said as I nudged the dead warrior with the toe of my sandal.

“You didn't deal enough damage for Experience or loot,” Frank said. “The tree of spinelessness rarely bears fruit.”

I suppressed a laugh. “Gotcha. Time to make a run for it, then.” I frowned at my staff, considering it. The weapon was light but bulky. Running with it wasn't going to be easy. I tried to mentally holster it, flinching as it blinked out of my hand and thudded onto my back. “There we go. You ready?”

“Frank is always ready.”

I dashed forward, long legs eating up the distance with incredible speed, zigzagging between the combatants while magical projectiles flashed through the air overhead. A fireball exploded to my left. A wave of heat rippled over me as a pair of Woodbone were blown off their feet and sent ragdolling across the cavern.

A second fireball burst a few paces in front of me, and though the flames had cleared by the time I reached the impact zone, I still had to leap through the smoke the projectile had left behind, which stung my eyes and smelled strongly of hickory.

I punched through the cloud and hit the ground running on the other side, only a few feet from the Woodbone perimeter. Two of them broke ranks and waved me in so I pressed on, beelining for an N.P.C kneeling beneath the boughs of the tree.

He wore a bloodied white robe, and his hands were pressed to the stone in supplication. The wooden skulls that hung from the tree's lilting branches were all turned inward as if watching him, but the nearest of them spun to face me as I approached, black wax dripping from their candle-lit sockets.

I cleared my throat, and the N.P.C rose slowly, bones popping beneath his robes. He cocked his head to the side and grimaced. His face was obscured, hidden beneath the darkness of his hood, and he smelled like iron and sour sweat.

“Hello, Mystic, and welcome to the world,” The Gardener said. “So young, and yet you've already tasted the blood of the Fair Folk. No doubt a reward is in order.”

You completed a quest!

You earned 100 Experience!

You earned 2 Renown!

You gained the spell {Ravenbolt}!

“Nice!” I said aloud, immediately querying the spell.

{Ravenbolt} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You strike an enemy up to 35 yards away with a blast of dark energy that deals 40 shadow damage. This spell deals damage based on your current level (base damage) and your Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack. This spell causes a high amount of threat.

Cast time: 2.5 seconds.

Cooldown: None.

Cost: 40 Mana.

Next rank: Cast time decreased by .2 seconds.

The first thing that jumped out was the Mana cost—40 seemed pretty steep for a first spell. And with my current pool, I'd only be able to cast Ravenbolt four times before I ran out of Mana.

Plus there was the threat bit to figure out, and the fact that skills had ranks…but those were worries for later. For now, I had a battle to win. I inspected the N.P.C.

{The Gardener} (Level 5 Woodbone Fae)

H.P: 200/200

M.P: 600/600

Seemed like he was some kind of leader. “How can I help?” I said, hoping to prompt another quest. Then the sound of beating wings filled the cavern, and a murmur of fear ran through the Woodbone ranks.

The Gardener shook his head and pointed down a dark tunnel on the far side of the cavern. “The riders approach, Mystic. We can't allow them near the Underworld Tree. We must turn them back.”

New Quest: Children of a Colder Star 2 (Evolving Quest)!

Objective: Kill any combination of 3 Fair Folk.

Bonus Objective: Kill a {Fairfolk Dragonrider}.

Reward: Experience and your choice of 1 class-appropriate spell.

Bonus Reward: Experience, Renown.

My choice of a class-appropriate spell? Now that was interesting. I accepted the quest, nodded at The Gardener, and took up a position alongside the Woodbone who ringed the tree. But for the droning of wings, the cavern had grown strangely quiet as both sides withdrew and marshaled their forces.

The first rider emerged from the tunnel, a wiry elf sitting atop a sky-blue dragonfly the size of a sedan. The huge insect chittered and darted forward, then banked hard to the left, its segmented underbelly flashing as its rider peppered the Woodbone front with a hail of fiery projectiles. The Fair Folk surged forward, roaring as two more riders soared out of the tunnel.

I froze in place, awestruck by the scene unfolding in front of me: the hazy, sulfur-scented air, the graceful dragonflies—whose wings gave off a vibration so deep that I felt it in my chest—the fearsome, fiery concussions erupting all around, the—

“Move it,” Frank said.

“Right, thanks.” I snapped out of it and inspected the closest rider, who was drawing nearer to the tree by the second.

{Fair Folk Dragonrider} (Level 3 Fair Folk)

H.P: 120/120

M.P: 200/200

I mentally activated Ravenbolt, moving my hands through a series of gestures that were somehow familiar, and the stone beneath me darkened with huge, bird-like shadows, as if vultures were circling high overhead.

A black sphere formed beyond my outstretched fingers, the darkness elongating into a beak, pulling into wings and feathers and beady eyes as the spell neared completion.

The cast finished and a shadowy raven soared into the air, flew across the cavern, and splashed against the Dragonrider's chest, throwing up a cloud of spectral feathers and blasting the rider clear off his mount.

“Hit for 41,” Frank said. “Target Health at 66%. Make sure you deal at least half his Health in damage before he dies, otherwise you won't get loot and Experience.”

The rider rolled as he hit the ground, his dragonfly screeching as it circled high above. The mob broke into a run and headed straight for me, yanking a wickedly-curved short sword from a hip-mounted sheath. He held out his free hand to the side, his fingers splayed in a strange gesture.

It looked to me like he was readying some kind of spell, so I immediately wound up another Ravenbolt which thankfully connected while the mob was still some fifteen feet away, dropping his Health to 32%.

I started on a third bolt, wanting to get credit for the whole kill before the Woodbone could interfere, but the rider made a fist with his free hand, and for a split-second, the whole cavern went quiet. And when the noise rushed back in, the dark bird that had been forming between my fingers winked out.

You are silenced!

Unable to cast spells for 3 seconds!

I cursed under my breath and summoned my staff. Three seconds was going to be more than enough for him to close the distance. I gripped my staff about the middle with both hands and readied myself for his approach.

The rider leaped the last six feet and brought his blade above his head with both hands. I raised my staff to catch the blow, but the elf changed tactics in midair, forgoing the sword strike to kick me square in the chest.

The force of the blow caught me by surprise, knocking me to the ground and sending my staff bouncing across the stone. I slipped into a Ravenbolt right there on the ground, and the elf charged once again, snarling.

“Not gonna be enough time to get that off,” Frank said a split-second after the problem became obvious.

A nearby Woodbone sent a spear of dark magic lancing toward the rider, and though he ducked with plenty of time to spare, the attack was accurate enough to slow him down.

My spell completed and a shadowy raven launched forward, striking the wide-eyed mob in the stomach and putting him down for good.

The Woodbone screamed their approval as I scrambled for my staff, checking my logs as I went.

{Ravenbolt} hit {Fair Folk Dragonrider} for 43 damage!

You defeated {Fair Folk Dragonrider}!

You gained 20 Experience!

Bonus Objective Complete: Children of a Colder Star 2!

“Nice,” Frank said.

I nodded and snatched my staff off the floor. Then I noticed the rider's body was glimmering, white sparks flying above his corpse.

“Loot?” I said, hopeful.

“Yup, either a Common item or some copper,” Frank said.

“How can you tell?”

“The sparks would be green if he'd dropped something Uncommon, blue for Rare, purple for Epic, orange for Mythic, and red for Legendary.”

“Cool,” I said. “Thanks for that.” I took a moment to catch my breath and let my Health and Mana tick up a bit. By now the Fair Folk front had largely devolved into a mob, a mob that was having little trouble driving us backward. Our frontline fighters were taking the brunt of the damage, with two or even three of them dying at a time to well-placed fireballs.

And for every Fair Folk our mages dropped with a black spear, two more poured out of the many tunnels that pocked the cavern and stepped in to fill the gap.

The remaining Dragonriders were wreaking havoc across our reserves, too, both of them launching arrows of searing magic into our mages only to zoom out of their range before they could return fire.

“We're losing this, aren't we?” I said.

“That does seem to be the case,” Frank said.

“Guess I spawned into the wrong side of this war.” I targeted a nearby warrior who had about 70% of her Health remaining and launched a Ravenbolt her way.

She immediately dropped her current target and sprinted in my direction—that was probably the threat-generating component of my Ravenbolt at work—but a second bolt dropped her well before she could reach me.

I picked another weakened target, queued up a bolt and—nothing. I was out of Mana. I queried the water I'd looted from my kit and ran a few paces away from the front lines, quickly dropping into a seated position.

{Fresh Water}

Restores 200 Mana over 15 seconds.

A gourd of water popped into my hand, and I took a quick sip and waited, watching my Mana bar surge. The water was unlike anything I'd ever tasted: ice cold and utterly, impossibly refreshing, so much so that for a split second, I actually forgot that I was sitting cross-legged in the middle of a battlefield.

My Health still hadn't fully recovered from that fireball I'd caught to the chest—or the blows I'd taken since—and I couldn't wait to try the food this place had on offer, so I pulled out a mushroom and dug in.

{Cave Mushroom}

Restores 200 Health over 15 seconds.

The mushroom was ridiculously good: earthy and buttery despite its rawness. It didn't seem like I needed to take more than a single bite to start the recovery process, but I downed the entire thing just on the basis of taste alone.

“Uhhhh, I'm getting a bad feeling over here,” Frank said.

“Huh?” I glanced at my Mana bar. It was nearing halfway full. “About what?”

“I dunno. I think you're close to failing the quest.”

“Failing?” I said. “I can fail this? I just assumed the battle would keep going until I finished killing three targets.”

“Yeah, well, you're wrong.”

I glanced around, making note of the two remaining riders, both of whom were flying in tight circles around the Underworld Tree. Maybe I needed to finish another Fair Folk off before they reached it? I tapped my foot against the stone floor, glancing back and forth between the riders and my bar.

I jumped to my feet as soon as I hit 120 Mana and immediately wound up a bolt on a nearby mage in a red robe who was halfway through a fireball of his own. His attack launched at the same time mine did, and though he dropped his initial target and started aiming a fireball in my direction the moment my bird struck home, my second spell connected long before he had a chance to finish his cast.

I began to ready a third bolt, but judging from the cast bars above our heads, I was going to wind up eating his attack. I gritted my teeth and kept casting.

“What are you doing?” Frank said.

“What's it look like?” I said. “I'm getting ready to dodge a fireball.”

“A respectably suicidal choice,” Frank said as our casts neared completion.

“I'm not failing a quest five minutes in,” I said. My Ravenbolt shot forward, the bird cutting straight into the mage's much larger projectile and disappearing inside it.

I threw myself to the ground, but the fireball exploded directly above me, and I gasped in a lungful of burning smoke as the shockwave pressed me into the floor and singed my skin from head to toe.

“Your Health at 46%,” Frank said.

I stood up and brushed the ash from my robes, wincing. “Ouch. Crit would have killed me there.”

“Yeah, I had my fingers crossed,” Frank said.

Another bell chimed. I'd completed the quest.

Quest Complete: Children of a Colder Star 2 (Evolving Quest)!

Return to {The Gardener} to claim your reward!

And not a moment too soon. The riders had just reached the Underworld Tree, and both of them went zipping up beneath its hanging branches.

The Gardener was losing his mind and shouting at the mages to take them out, but none of the Woodbone seemed inclined to loose their magic so close to the tree.

Both riders emerged from within the tangle of branches seconds later, each of them carrying something I couldn't make out. “Fall back!” one of them said. “We've got what we came for!”

A shout went up from the Fair Folk ranks and their forces withdrew toward the tunnel, their mages sending a flurry of fireballs into the no man's land that separated the two groups, blanketing it with smoke. And when the smoke cleared, only their dead remained.

Chapter Six

I looted the mobs I'd killed, coming away with eight coppers and some trash-quality leather pants that seemed destined for the first vendor I met.

Then I rejoined The Gardener, who stood beneath the Underworld Tree, staring up into its branches. I followed his gaze to a particularly thick branch covered in what looked like shards of red glass, the fragments glimmering in the dim light.

The Gardener sighed and shook his head. “This loss will cost us lives, Mystic.”

“What did they take?” I said.

“Sustenance,” The Gardener said. A wooden skull dropped off one of the branches and shattered against the stone beneath, causing The Gardener to wince. “But I am glad you held your own, Mystic, because this fight is nowhere near over. That was merely a raiding party. The Fair Folk are rampaging across our lands above us even as we speak. We'll need your help to clear them out.”

You completed a quest!

You may select 1 of 3 class-appropriate spells!

You earned 200 Experience!

You earned 5 Renown!

Congratulations, you reached level 2!

Your Dexterity increased by 3!

Your Intelligence increased by 3!

A wave of golden light rippled out from me, setting the air to sparkling. “There we go,” I said. “One level down, five to go before we can pick up our first class change. Let's check those spells out.”

You may select 1 of the following 3 spells. Unselected spells may or may not appear at a later time.

{Roots of the Underworld Tree} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You summon a cluster of dark roots to bind an enemy in place for 8 seconds from up to 35 yards away. Bound enemies take 1 shadow damage every second for the duration of the spell's effect. Damage taken from sources other than {Roots of the Underworld Tree} may break this effect. This spell deals damage based on your level (base damage) and Intelligence statistic, plus Magical Attack.

Cast time: 1.25 seconds.

Cooldown: 15 seconds.

Cost: 25 Mana.

Next rank: Cooldown reduced by 1 second.

{Shadestrike} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You strike an enemy within melee range with a shadow-infused punch, dealing 73 shadow damage and interrupting any spell the target was casting. If a spell is interrupted this way, the target will be unable to cast spells from that school for 5 seconds. This spell deals damage based on your level (base damage) and Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 30 seconds.

Cost: 20 Mana.

Next rank: Spell lock period increased to 5.5 seconds.

{Dark Canopy} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You summon a shield of shadow energy that absorbs 50 damage. Shield lasts 8 seconds. This spell absorbs damage based on your level (base damage) and Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 30 seconds.

Cost: 50 Mana.

Next rank: Shield lasts an additional 4 seconds.

“Finally, an ability worth its salt,” Frank said.

“Yeah, that root will make a pretty nice combo with Ravenbolt.”

“What? You're joking, right?” Frank said.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, it's really hard to tell when you're joking. 'Cause you're not funny.”

“Wow.”

“I'll save you some time and select the punching ability for you 'cause I'm sure we both agree that that's the obvious choice.”

“I'm good on that. Control is king, Frank. I'm going with the root spell.”

“But the damage!” Frank said. “And the punching! And the interrupt, and the mages who will quiver in fear at the sight of us, and—”

“Dude, I have less than 100 Health. If I'm close enough to punch something, that's a problem.”

“You're a problem,” Frank said.

I almost selected the roots spell on the spot just to spite him but decided to take one last look at the three abilities to make sure I hadn't missed anything.

Shadestrike did look interesting—and interrupts were always incredibly powerful—but the ability's range coupled with how fragile I was made it a nonstarter.

Dark Canopy was pretty intriguing, as it would almost double my Health on use, but the Mana cost was pretty high, and what I really needed was a way to avoid damage entirely. And for now, the root spell was just too useful to miss out on.

I selected Roots of the Underworld Tree and confirmed my choice.

You gained the spell: {Roots of the Underworld Tree}!

“I hate that spell,” Frank said. “I hate everything you've done so far, actually. Except for the part where you brained that elf-looking guy. That part was acceptable.”

“What? Oh, right. You're on the magical hate train again, huh?”

“Magic,” Frank said, spitting the word. “I didn't wanna be all distracting when you were busy trying not to die, but just so you know, the gods of battle look down upon your accomplishments with cold disdain, pity heavy in their hearts.”

“Cool beans,” I said, and turned back to The Gardener. “You said their forces were still nearby?”

“Yes,” The Gardener said. “It's the bones, Mystic. That's what those bastards are after.”

“The bones?” I said.

The Gardener sighed, sounding worn out. “Look around you,” he said. “What do you see?”

I wanted to say super creepy skulls, but that didn't seem like the way to go. Better to keep it simple. “Skulls?”

“Yes. A few months ago, you were just another skull hanging from these branches,” The Gardener said. “We Woodbone Fae are the fruit of the Underworld Tree, so it has always been.

“And when a Woodbone dies, they leave their enchanted bones behind. Those bones are what the Fair Folk seek. Their armies are profaning our dead at this very moment, Mystic. And I need your help to put a stop to it, once and for all. We cannot permit them to defile the remains of our loved ones, even if doing so means full-blown war.”

I tapped my chin, then glanced down at Frank. “They're after our bones, huh? You got any more information on the Fair Folk? I'd like to know a bit more about what we're up against.”

I felt Frank grit his teeth, which seemed like a promising sign. “I have access to a codex full of lore that includes an entry on the Fair Folk, if that's what you mean.”

I blinked. “We both know that that's exactly what I mean.”

Frank groaned. “Here.”

Codex Entry 188: The Fair Folk

An ancient race renowned for their love of music and horticulture, the Fair Folk have spent nearly their entire existence in conflict with the Woodbone Fae. And though the two races have enjoyed a rare period of relative peace since the exile of the Woodbone Queen, small skirmishes and even battles remain frustratingly common.

“Well, that seems like it's going to be insanely helpful,” I said. “Are you hiding any other massive information systems from me purely out of spite or is it just the codex?”

“Just the codex,” Frank said, pouting a bit.

“Can you hit me with the entry for the Woodbone Fae?”

“Like I have a choice,” Frank said.

Codex Entry 187: The Woodbone Fae

A warlike race birthed from the boughs of a massive subterranean tree, the Woodbone Fae are a proud people who will meet even the slightest insult with violence. Still stung by the exile of their queen—which ended a war they were doomed to lose—the Woodbone Fae nevertheless stand eager to prove their mettle.

I mulled that passage over, then reread the entry on the Fair Folk to make sure I hadn't missed anything.

I really wanted to dig deeper into the codex, but the Head Start clock was ticking, and given how pissy Frank was getting, I decided to hold off and get back to questing.

Chapter Seven

The Gardener pointed up the mouth of an especially dark tunnel. “That passageway will lead you to the surface, where the great majority of our dead are buried. The Underworld Tree has been dealt a great blow this day, Mystic. Save what bones you can from the heretics. And water our tree's roots with their blood.”

New Quest: Children of a Colder Star 3 (Evolving Quest)!

Objective: Kill 20 {Bone Collectors} (Phase 1).

Reward: Experience, Renown, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell (Player must complete all Phases to gain this reward).

I jogged off into the tunnel, which banked left and up. Condensation was beading off the ceiling, and streams of water were running down the walls. “Hey Frank?”

“What now?”

“So, I'm not loving how quickly I ran out of Mana back there. And if I gotta kill twenty of whatever's next, that's gonna translate to a lot of downtime. I guess I'm wondering if there's anything we can do to minimize that. Can we make potions or flasks, something like that?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

I pressed a hand to the wall, recoiling at its slimy feel while appreciating it all the same. “And how would I go about doing that?”

“First you'd choose a type of Alchemy,” Frank said. “There's your regular, super tedious type of Alchemy that requires you to hunt down painfully rare ingredients and grind them up by hand for minimal gain, then there's Soul Alchemy, where you hunt down monsters, rip the souls out of their bodies, and repurpose them to amazing effects.”

“Wow, Frank, those options both sound great,” I said.

Frank narrowed his eyes at me or whatever it was he was able to do.

“I dunno how I'm going to choose between them given your unbiased thoughts. Mind tossing me the descriptions?”

“Uh huh,” Frank said. “Here are the default prompts.”

{Alchemist}

A potion-maker who brews rare ingredients into powerful concoctions.

{Soul Alchemist}

A Spellshot crafter who harvests the souls of their enemies and repurposes them to deadly effect.

“Spellshots, huh?” I said. “Sounds cool, but how do those help with Mana?”

“Check it,” Frank said. “I've only got access to the recipes you can craft at the very lowest levels of each profession, but there's some good stuff in there.”

Recipe: {Weak Siphonshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points per craft)

Your successful spells and abilities refund 5 Mana.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 25 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Weak Soul Gem} x3.

“5 Mana back per cast, huh,” I said. I scoped out my Ravenbolt tooltip and did some quick math. “That knocks more than 10% off the cost of each bolt, which would definitely help. Can you link me one of the regular Alchemy potions?”

“Yup.”

Recipe: {Weak Mana Potion} (Consumable) (Awards 2 skill points per craft)

Regenerates 200 Mana over 1 minute.

Requirements: {Shadebloom} x3, {Small Vial} x1.

I winced, then ducked a stalactite. “That seems substantially better for Mana regen.”

“Well, yeah,” Frank said. “Surprise, the profession that's known for making Mana potions is the best profession for making Mana potions. But Soul Alchemist is a lot more flexible. Look.”

Recipe: {Weak Iceshot} (Consumable) (Awards 5 skill points per craft)

Your successful damaging spells and abilities have a 20% chance to chill your target, reducing their movement speed by 25% for 5 seconds.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 25 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Weak Soul Gem} x5.

“Hmm. I like it, but I kinda wish that Mana potion seemed a bit worse. Feels like Alchemy would be a better fit for my needs right now, even though Soul Alchemy is the cooler profession.”

“Then you'd have to spend time gathering stuff,” Frank said. “And honestly, which profession sounds like more fun to play with?”

I looked down at Frank and cocked my head. “That might be the most convincing argument you've ever made, Frank.”

“Thanks. I'm pretty great, huh?”

I ignored him, but I did like the idea of gathering souls a lot more than plants, mostly because if mobs were the major ingredient source, I could gain levels while raising my profession at the same time.

And while I had zero doubts Frank was all about Soul Alchemy because of the copious amounts of mob-murder it would require, this still seemed like a great opportunity to throw him a bone without giving anything up on my end.

“Alright,” I said. “Let's do it. Soul Alchemist it is.”

“Nice,” Frank said. “I am temporarily appeased.”

“Great. So, how do we do it?”

“Need to find a quest giver,” Frank said.

“Cool. So, where to?”

“You could easily learn it within a couple minutes if you looked in the right place, but you're too low for me to direct you.”

I squeezed between a narrow crevice and popped out into a wider tunnel. “Interesting. Can you send me a more detailed readout of Soul Alchemy? Maybe I can scrape some info there.”

“My version just adds one additional line,” he said. “Here.”

{Soul Alchemist}

A Spellshot crafter who harvests the souls of their enemies and repurposes them to deadly effect.

Race Restriction: Dark Alignment.

“Dark alignment, huh?” I said. “I'm guessing Woodbone Fae falls under that?”

“It pains me to say this,” Frank said, “but yes, you are, for once, correct.”

“Cool, but that doesn't really help with the profession thing. But I guess if I'm looking for a trainer, it's probably going to be an N.P.C, and if they're only minutes out, they can't be far off. Can you send me The Gardener's codex entry? We should probably rule him out before we go any further.”

“Sending,” Frank said.

Codex Entry 180: The Gardener

The Gardener has tended the Underworld Tree for hundreds of years, overseeing the births of countless Woodbone Fae. Once a Soul Alchemist of considerable renown, the dire hardships his people have endured these last few years have withered his skills and increasingly pushed him toward one of the darkest of the Magical Arts: Blood Alchemy.

“Welp, found the trainer,” I said. “Thanks, Frank, that was easy. Do you have anything on Blood Alchemy? Is that another profession?”

“It isn't a profession,” Frank said. “And I can't share anything on it at this point.”

“Alright.” I turned around and jogged back down the tunnel, hurdling and dodging stalagmites as I went.

I'd always considered traveling on foot to be pretty boring in other games—more of a necessary evil than a gameplay element—but here, between the speed I could reach and the utterly convincing feel of the wind on my face? Even sprinting was a joy in and of itself.

I found The Gardener kneeling in prayer beneath the Underworld Tree, his fists clenched at his sides, red light seeping through the gaps between his fingers. He inclined his head at me as I approached. “What is it, Mystic? You can't have completed your task.”

“Not yet,” I said. “I was hoping you could teach me something, actually. Something to help in the fight against the Fair Folk.”

“I see,” The Gardener said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Soul Alchemy,” I said.

The Gardener grinned, a crescent of yellow teeth flashing beneath his dark hood. “It pains me to admit I've turned to other interests of late, and I'm no longer the teacher I once was. But I believe I still know enough to share the basics.”

Do you wish to become a {Soul Alchemist}?

Accepting this profession will use 1 of your 2 profession slots, and you will be unable to select a second profession until level 10.

“Nice,” I said. I took the profession, triggering a flood of prompts.

Congratulations, you gained the Soul Alchemy profession!

You unlocked a new Soul Alchemy recipe: {Weak Siphonshot}!

You unlocked a new Soul Alchemy recipe: {Weak Iceshot}!

World-first Alert!

Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) is the first Player to become a {Soul Alchemist}!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to become a {Soul Alchemist}!

You gained 10 Renown!

Awarding Title: {Lord of the Harvest}!

“Nice,” I said. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” The Gardener said. “Hunt well, Mystic, and give them no quarter.” He turned away and went back to praying.

I checked the title I'd been given.

{Lord of the Harvest} (Unique Title)

You have a 5% increased chance of looting Soul Gems from mobs you kill that grant Experience. Mobs that are classified as Rare and above are unaffected by this boost.

“God,” I said. “I love this place. Would have expected more Renown, but I can't complain. I'll take passive boosts all day long.”

“It's 'cause getting that profession before anybody else doesn't do much to affect the game as a whole,” Frank said. “Sorta like when you logged in for the first time and didn't get any Renown. Not really a big deal because the system was expecting that to happen pretty quickly. You only got Renown this time because Soul Alchemy is fairly rare thanks to the race restriction, and the system values things that happen less or that it expects to take longer to occur.”

“Well, aren't you a fount of useful information for once,” I said. “Appreciate it.”

“Don't get used to it,” Frank said. “I wasn't joking when I said I was temporarily appeased, and I find myself souring on you with every passing moment.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I ran back up the tunnel, poking around the menus of my new profession while I went. I couldn't craft anything yet, as I didn't yet have any Soul Gems on hand. “Do I need to do anything special to get gems?” I said.

“Just kill stuff,” Frank said. “Soul Gems have a chance of dropping for everybody, with more powerful versions dropping off stronger mobs.”

“Noted.”

A few minutes later, the tunnel opened up to an enormous spiral staircase that curved up toward the surface. I leaned over the railing and looked up. The helix seemed to go on forever, winding in on itself as it twisted up through the rocky ground, but a moon was shining through the gap. Not the moon, a moon.

The damn thing was green. “I really do not like that moon,” I said as I bounded up the stairs, taking them two and three and even four at a time. “Not sure why.”

“Same,” Frank said. “Its presence enrages me.”

“Glad I'm not the only one.” I trucked along at what felt like an incredible clip and eventually made my way around the final curve, trailing my fingers across the smooth walls as I went, which were still damp with moisture. Far above, the green moon loomed large, taking up a huge chunk of the sky.

Also, it looked ridiculous.

“Gross,” Frank said. “Stupid moon. It's not even nighttime. Go away, moon!”

“Right? I can't put my finger on what exactly it is that's making it bother me so much, but it just feels kinda lazy somehow, you know?” I gestured up at the moon with both hands. “It's like, I get it, we're somewhere else, and everything's weird and vaguely spooky. But you don't need to go changing the moon.”

“We are of one mind when it comes to the moon,” Frank said.

I leaped the last few steps, reached the surface, and scanned my surroundings.

Here the earth was a ruin. Huge swaths of soil and rock had been quarried out, and a labyrinthine complex of trenches stretched out in every direction for the better part of a mile.

Small, vaguely humanoid figures worked the trenches with spades and picks. Each of them wore an oversized pack and a tool-belt that hung heavy with brushes, chisels, and the like.

One of the creatures knelt and shrieked, then ripped something out of the ground. It held its prize above its head—a long, dark piece of wood that drew jealous glances from some of the surrounding creatures.

“Is that what I think it is?” I inspected the creature.

{Bone Collector} (Level 2 Merchant Fairy)

H.P: 80/80

“Well, that answers that,” I said. “I guess these are the dicks digging us up. Weird, The Gardener seemed to think it was the Fair Folk doing it.”

The Bone Collector placed the bone—a femur, from the look of it—on the ground with reverence, then took an awl from one side of its tool belt and a hammer from the other. It placed the awl against the bone and raised the hammer high, brought it down and punched the tool into the bone.

It repeated the process six more times, tucked away its tools, then raised the bone to its lips sideways as if it were a harmonica, putting its mouth over the holes it'd made. It blew into the bone and the wind picked up, stripping some dust off the ground and sending a few notes of ethereal music drifting my way.

“That's messed up,” I said.

“Murder it!” Frank said. “Go, go, go!”

“Hold on a second,” I said. “These guys aren't Woodbone or Fair Folk, right? Do you have an entry for me?”

“Ugh,” Frank said. “Whatever happened to shoot first and ask questions later?”

“I don't think shooting people is a very good way to get them to cooperate.”

“Depends where you shoot them,” Frank said.

I sighed. “Fair enough, Frank. Can I get that codex entry?”

“Here.”

Codex Entry 195: The Merchant Fairies

The Merchant Fairies are a morally flexible race who hold tradecraft above all else. Endlessly opportunistic, even the poorest amongst them have scratched a decent living during the Woodbone and Fair Folk conflict, serving as middlemen who ferry goods between the two warring races.

“Thanks,” I said. “Just to be clear, these are mobs, right? Not N.P.C's? Their nameplates are red so they're hostile, but that entry makes me think—”

“They're mobs. Can we kill them now?”

“Yes, Frank. We can kill them now.”

“Awesome.”

So, the mobs each had 80 Health, and Ravenbolt was a 2.5-second cast that hit for about 40. My new roots spell was far faster—clocking in at 1.25 seconds—but it didn't deal much damage, and 25 Mana was fairly steep.

But barring a miss or something like that, I figured I'd be able to put the creatures down with a pair of Ravenbolts before they had a chance to mount much of a counterattack. Especially if they were melee-based, which seemed likely given the items they carried and their lack of a visible Mana bar.

I popped my staff into my right hand and moved through the gestures of a Ravenbolt with my left, targeting the most distant Bone Collector I could reach.

The spell struck the fairy in its back, but instead of being flung off its feet or even staggering, the creature simply shrugged its pack from its shoulders and dropped to all fours, scampering toward me with a little under half its Health remaining.

The fairy was wolf-like in its movements, all four limbs working in perfect unison, and it grinned at me as it approached, a long tongue lolling from a mouth too wide for its face.

I hesitated, eyeing my cast bar as the creature approached. The mob was far faster than I'd assumed, so I abandoned my cast and queued up Roots of the Underworld Tree instead, instinctively spinning my staff in a brisk circle.

Several dark roots snaked up out of the ground and twined around the fairy's ankles and wrists, holding it in place. The fairy struggled against its bonds, snarling, and bearing its many rows of thin, needle-like teeth.

“Things are fast,” I said as I watched the fairy's Health tick away slightly under the influence of the root. I wound up another Ravenbolt to finish the creature off, and the bolt launched, connected, and dropped the fairy.

“Probably gonna have to wait until that roots spell is off cooldown before I pull another. Thing would have reached me otherwise before I could get off a second bolt, and those teeth, ugh. Not a fan of teeth in general.”

I checked my Mana bar and winced. Tossing out two bolts and a root had required about half of my Mana. “Well, maybe not,” I said. “The root costs almost as much to use as the bolt does and only deals a fraction of the damage. Maybe it's better to take a hit here and there if it means killing things more quickly.”

“I vote for whatever causes you to suffer most,” Frank said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, suppressing a laugh. Then I noticed the green sparks flying above the creature's corpse. I headed over and looted it.

You received {Weak Soul Gem}!

You received {Copper Coin} x3!

“Nice!” I said. “One down, two to go before we can make a Siphonshot.” I found a pair of Collectors pathing in opposite directions in a nearby trench, but they were pathing too close together. “How's the threat or aggro mechanic work here?” I said. “Will attacking one of those two aggro them both?”

“Depends on how close they are to each other,” Frank said. “Mobs are basically blind beyond ten yards unless they're particularly intelligent or powerful, that sorta thing.”

“Thanks.” I sent a Ravenbolt at the nearer of the two Bone Collectors, but the ground beneath my feet pulsed black as the spell completed, and a second raven joined the first. The spectral birds chased one another across the ground, swooping and diving, jockeying for position.

There was a burst of black feathers as the first raven connected, then a second as the duplicated spell hit home. A yellow 42 drifted up above the Collector's head and was almost instantly followed by a 41, then the mob dropped to the ground.

I looked to the other nearby Collector, which was still pathing away as if its compatriot hadn't just been blasted into oblivion by a pair of fancy explosions. More white sparks flew above the mob I'd just finished off, so probably just coins there. I checked my logs.

{Ravenbolt} hit {Bone Collector} for 42 damage!

{Ravenbolt} (Duplicate) hit {Bone Collector} for 41 damage!

You defeated {Bone Collector}!

You gained 10 Experience!

“Wow,” I said. “Totally forgot about that passive. This game really sucks you in.” I looted the mob and picked up a few more coppers.

I didn't have quite enough Mana for another pair of bolts, so I dropped to the ground and spawned some water in my hand and drank deep. It still tasted amazing. “Hey, Frank?” I said. “Quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“I'm assuming spells can miss, yeah? If so, what's the rate?”

“3% versus an equal level mob,” Frank said. “Goes up fast as the mob gains levels on you. As in, you'd have a 16% chance to miss something that was three levels higher.”

“Yikes.” I took another drink. I wasn't thirsty, and I didn't need to drink for the regen to remain active, but I couldn't get over how refreshing drinking was. “So best to target stuff closer to my level then. Thanks, Frank.”

“If you think your incessant thanking will somehow win me over,” Frank said, “you are badly misinformed. I am wise to your feeble attempts at manipulation, Ned.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Incessant thanking? Really?”

“Indeed,” Frank said.

I shrugged, but he'd hit a bit of a sore spot, so I figured an explanation might help. “It's a habit, alright? My dad used to do this power move thing where he'd never thank someone for doing as he'd asked. It was awful.

I spent a huge chunk of my life thinking that was normal, and it took me a long time to shake out of that mindset. I probably overcorrect from time to time, but I don't see the harm in it.”

“Your father sounds like my kind of man,” Frank said.

I bit back the urge to snap at him, then took a deep breath. “He was an asshole, actually. Lot of history there I'd rather not get into, but I missed my mother's funeral because he had a meeting that ran long and was late picking me up.” I sucked down a few mouthfuls of water. “Wasn't even a particularly important meeting. The funeral just wasn't a priority for him because he wasn't the type for ceremonies, and he never considered I might have felt differently.

That sort of thing was pretty common, and it only got worse from there. But the shit storm really kicked off when I started working for him.”

Frank hesitated. “That is…decidedly less awesome. I retract my previous statement.”

“Thanks,” I said. Then I winced. “See? Habit. Not trying to accomplish anything, though. It's just nice being able to play a game without worrying that I'm constantly making mistakes. I'm usually the type to reroll ten times before I end up with the right class, so having someone to help out as I go is a nice change of pace. Particularly given how high I'm aiming this time around.”

“Regardless, I remain dubious of your intentions,” Frank said.

“Whatever.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then checked my Mana bar, which was nearly full.

I jumped up and Ravenbolted the remaining Collector—who was now pathing back down the same trench in my direction—and immediately followed up with a second bolt.

Given a second look at the mob's run speed, it seemed like I'd been right the first time around. Getting the second bolt off before the mob reached me was going to be a close thing.

My spell had less than half a second left until completion when the creature hit melee range. It sprang off its back legs and leaped on top of me, clawed hands wrapping around my neck. Long teeth dug into my shoulder.

“Hit for 24,” Frank said. “Your Health at 63%.”

The sensation was strange. I felt every one of the fairy's teeth, but the pain was so muted it just felt like my shoulder was vibrating in several places at once.

I tilted backward and almost lost my balance but managed to recover without dropping my cast. My Ravenbolt stuttered and took another half-second to complete—probably owing to the damage I'd taken while casting—but the effect from point-blank range was worth having eaten the attack.

My spell ripped out of my palm and instantly made contact with the creature's chest. A gust of brutally cold air rebounded over me as the explosion blew the creature away and sent it bouncing across the ground.

And the best part? More green sparks. I dropped down into the trench and looted the creature, hoping to find another gem, but the reward was even better:

{Gravedigger's Cuffs of Intelligence)

Grade: E

Item Level: 2

Slot: Wrist

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +1 Intelligence

Armor: +1%

“Yeah!” I thought equip, and the item snapped into place. The cuffs were simple, just a pair of fabric insets seamlessly woven into the sleeves of my robe, though they were black rather than purple.

Then I brought up my stat sheet.

{Ned}, (The First Citizen)

Level: 2

Tier 1 Class: Dark Mystic

Gear Level: 4 6

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 13 16

Constitution: 8

Intelligence: 18 22

Wisdom: 15

Charisma: 10

Physical Attack: 3

Magical Attack: 11

Health: 64

Mana: 180 220

Armor: +5% +6%

Magical Resistance: 0%

“There ya go,” Frank said. “Those are the arrows I was talking about for your stat changes.”

“Sweet. So, I got 3 Intelligence and Dexterity on level up, and the extra point of Intelligence is coming from those cuffs I just found.”

“Correct,” Frank said. “Congratulations on your rudimentary grasp of arithmetic.”

I scratched the back of my head. “But, uh…I didn't get any extra Health at all when I leveled up.”

“Nope,” Frank said.

“But like…why?”

“You picked a race with huge Dexterity and Intelligence bonuses, remember? Didn't you notice that all the other races had Constitution mixed in there?”

“Yeah, but I thought I'd get at least a couple points of Health each level. Or like, Constitution if I trained hard enough, or something like that.”

“You thought wrong, obviously.”

“Yikes. Hey. Hey…wait a second!”

Frank tensed up at my side.

“Why did I pick a race that purely gets Dexterity and Intelligence each level?”

“I have no idea,” Frank said. “You're the one who picked it. If you wanted a pure spellcaster, Intelligence and either Wisdom or Constitution would've been a much better choice. Pretty terrible idea across the board, really.”

My face flushed hot. “But you said Woodbone were the best casters!”

“No,” Frank said, “I said I'd link you the race with the highest Intelligence bonus.”

“Frank! I specifically asked you to show me the best caster race!”

“And I did just that,” Frank said. “But what makes the best spellcaster is totally subjective. And in my opinion, the only good spellcaster is a dead spellcaster. So, I set you up with a race that would die a lot.”

I covered my face with both hands and took a deep breath. I was one comment away from exploding at Frank for what he'd done, but some part of me knew that biting his metaphorical head off was the wrong way to go. Plus it'd just be giving him the sort of reaction he was after.

Frank shrugged as the silence grew uncomfortable. “It's kinda funny though, right?”

“Not laughing,” I said. “So, let me get this straight, you deliberately acted like a moron while steering me toward a weak race for what? Spite?”

“Yeah, I'm a huge fan of spite. It's one of my two favorite feelings, the other being violence.”

“Violence is not a feeling,” I said.

“Maybe not for you,” Frank said. “Anyway, you don't need to get all mopey about it. All of the races in this game are legit options. My dad takes balance very seriously.”

“I'm not moping,” I said. “I'm just frustrated that the guide that's supposed to be helping me out deliberately misled me. This is exactly the sort of situation I was thanking you for helping me avoid like, fifteen seconds ago. Ugh.” I took a quick step forward and kicked a rock down the trench.

Frank hesitated. “Well, apart from looking super dumb, Woodbone is still top-tier for anything that operates at range. I did abide by the second part of your request, though, because that was specific. The Woodbone starter area has amazing potential for Renown.”

“I can't believe I got outplayed by a talking axe.”

“To be fair,” Frank said, “I am superior to you in every conceivable way. My victory was inevitable.”

I half-laughed, half-groaned. “So, am I stuck with this 0 Constitution stat modifier forever? Or will it change when we get a new class?”

“Yeah, it'll change at Tier 2,” Frank said. “We can just pick something that adds Constitution or Wisdom, whatever. No big loss in the long term.”

“Sure, but those low-level points are points I can't ever get back, and little advantages add up.” I looked up at the moon and did some quick math. “Like, if I was getting 2 points of Constitution each level, I'd have an extra 12 Constitution by level 7. So, with my Health penalty…I'd have 160 Health at that point. That's almost triple what I'm actually going to have.”

“Yeah, but if you can manage to not die for several seconds in a row, your damage is going to obliterate people,” Frank said. “And eventually, you'll be super high level with tons of Health and that extra 100 you missed out on in the early game won't matter at all in the scheme of things.”

“It'll still be 100 extra Health I can't get back,” I said. “And that seems pretty relevant given I'm going to be the subject of a game-wide manhunt in less than three days.”

“I don't see the problem,” Frank said. “Why not just make everybody dead?”

I sighed. “Alright. So, supposedly, I have the highest Intelligence boost in the game, but terrible Constitution on top of a penalty that makes sure I always have terrible Health, at least relatively speaking. Is that actually true?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Okay. And to balance that out, I also have great Dexterity, but I can't actually do anything with Dexterity because I'm a Mystic with low Strength and no physical ranged abilities. And on top of all that, I have garbage Wisdom, so my regeneration rates are terrible.”

“True on the last bit,” Frank said, “but your high Dexterity has played a huge role in your success so far. Without that stat, you wouldn't be able to move the way you do.”

“Fair,” I said. “And I do love the movement. But I think I'm gonna reroll as a different race. I don't think I can stomach spending the rest of my time here knowing I made the wrong pick.”

“Nope,” Frank said.

“Nope? What do you mean, nope? I'm doing it.” I brought up the system menu and highlighted the logout button.

“You didn't read the Head Start fine print when you signed on, huh? You're limited to making one character per day until the game opens up. No rerolls for you unless you wanna burn twenty-four hours of playtime.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Now that he'd mentioned it, I did vaguely remember skimming a passage about alt restrictions before I got impatient and just signed the contract.

Frank shrugged. “It's gonna be fine, I promise. Frank wouldn't steer you wrong.”

“You literally just admitted to steering me wrong! On purpose!”

“No, I steered you in a different direction. Not necessarily the wrong direction. It's all a matter of perspective.”

“A matter of whose perspective, Frank?”

“Frank's perspective.”

I snorted. “You're lucky I find you entertaining from time to time.”

“I am always entertaining,” Frank said. “It's what I do. But yeah, things might be a bit harder early on, but I promise it'll be worth it. You're a late bloomer, basically. You're welcome.”

“Don't try to spin this. We both know it's not what I wanted.”

“Don't be pissy,” Frank said. “It's a bad look.”

“You're a bad look.”

“You take that back right now!” Frank shouted, so loud that I actually flinched. “I am magnificent!”

I blinked at the heat of Frank's words. Obviously I'd struck a nerve, or whatever the axe equivalent of a nerve was.

“And you'd look like a yellow-bellied, cookie-cutter mage without me hanging at your hip,” Frank said. “The only reason you look half-decent at all is because of the subtle barbarism I bring to the table.”

I glanced down at Frank. He did look pretty cool with the robes. “Fine, I take it back. You're a good look, Frank. But don't pull something like that again. Seriously.”

“I do what I want,” Frank said. “What're you gonna do, get another talking axe?”

“I could pick a Tier 2 class that's totally magical,” I said. “And that's just for starters.”

“…Don't do that,” Frank said.

“Okay, but if you still want to have a hand in whatever this avatar becomes, I need to know that at the very least, you aren't actively working against me. I think that's a pretty small ask given the stunt you just pulled. Do we have an agreement?”

“Fine.”

“Yes or no, Frank. I want your word before we go any further.”

“Yes,” Frank said. “I agree to your terms. I think they're dumb, but I agree.”

“Alright then. Let's get back to work.”

Chapter Eight

I spent the next half hour or so killing fairies while Frank mumbled stuff like nice and got 'em under his breath every time something died.

The pattern was pretty foolproof. Two bolts would drop a mob if they both connected, and while I consistently took hits along the way, I could still finish off two and sometimes even three Collectors back to back before I had to take a break.

The root spell was definitely useful and I was happy with my choice, but I only used it when my Health became the limiting factor owing to the spell's Mana cost.

I burned through another sixteen collectors in all, which put me about 20% away from level 3 with only a single Collector needed to complete my quest.

And the loot so far had been utterly fantastic:

{Copper Coin} x25

{Weak Soul Gem} x5

And most importantly:

{Gravedigger's Spaulders of Wisdom}

Grade: E

Item Level: 2

Slot: Shoulder

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Wisdom

Armor: +2%

I'd tossed those on right away. The visual effect was subtle, just a bit of silvery padding that sat above my robes, but I was absolutely thrilled to pick up a bit of Wisdom.

And now that I had enough gems to craft something, I opened my Soul Alchemy window and tabbed through to the Siphonshot recipe.

Recipe: {Weak Siphonshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points on craft)

Your successful spells refund 5 Mana.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 25 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Weak Soul Gem} x3.

I mentally selected the option and queued up a pair of the shots I wanted. One of the soul gems popped into my palm—the stone was pale and smooth, about the size of a walnut. I moved my free hand through a series of gestures much like those that Ravenbolt required while a light wind picked up and swirled around me.

The gem turned blue, shimmering and brightening until it had a light all of its own. A prompt, then.

You crafted {Weak Siphonshot} x1!

Your skill in Soul Alchemy increased to 3!

I immediately started in on the second shot, repeating the process exactly, though I spotted some movement in the menu. The recipe had changed slightly, now saying I'd only receive a pair of skill points on the next craft.

You crafted {Weak Siphonshot} x1!

Your skill in {Soul Alchemy} increased to 5!

I glanced back at the recipe, finding a Siphonshot would only be worth a single skill point from now on, but that was fine.

I left both of the gems in my inventory. I was anxious to try them out, but I didn't want to pop one and waste any of the buff's duration while I only had a single mob left to kill.

I tracked down one last Collector and threw a Ravenbolt its way, which procced a duplicate, and instantly killed it. The kill triggered a quest update.

Quest Update: Children of a Colder Star 3 (Evolving Quest).

Objective: Execute 20 {Bone Collectors} (Complete).

Objective: Execute 5 {Smoldering Treants} (Phase 2).

Reward: Renown, Experience, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell (Player must complete all Phases to gain this reward).

I glanced up at my mini map and found that an area had been highlighted a little bit to the north.

I headed that way and kept low to the ground, giving the remaining Collectors a wide berth. Eventually, the trench curved to the right and fed into the mouth of a stone-lined tunnel. The air warmed as I followed the tunnel and made my way back into the earth.

Heading back underground was jarring. The game replicated the five senses so well that heading back into the still, stuffy darkness after spending some time above ground was remarkably off-putting.

Fairy lights webbed the rough-hewn walls—little berry-sized bulbs strung on thin, copper wires—and though by now I was much too far underground to see the light of day, the tunnels were obnoxiously bright, so much so that I had to shade my eyes as I went.

I slowed my pace—the floor of the tunnel was becoming slick, increasingly carpeted with black mold—and crept toward an ornately carved doorway. I poked my head through and found that the tunnel had finally opened up. I'd reached the heart of some kind of burial chamber.

The space was massive, and the floor was covered in a layer of warm mist that lapped at my ankles. A pair of marble statues stood guard off in the distance, framing another entryway.

But between the doorway and me paced a number of hulking creatures, far more threatening than the fairies I'd faced above ground.

{Smoldering Treant} (Level 3 Elemental) (Veteran)

H.P: 250/250

M.P: 100/100

The mobs were monstrous, each standing about eight feet tall, and their bark-like skin was fire-blackened, their eye sockets full of flame.

“Huh,” I said.

“What?”

“These guys aren't Fair Folk either. Just seems weird that The Gardener would tell us to repel the Fair Folk and we'd end up killing other stuff entirely. And they're Veterans? Is that like a stronger type?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “That's the rank between regular mobs and elites. Still soloable for the vast majority of classes, but a lot more dangerous.”

“Any special attacks I should be aware of? Or weird attack patterns, anything like that?”

“Can't help you with that,” Frank said. “You're always going to be on your own as far as combat goes unless you've already killed something.”

“Probably more fun that way, but it was worth a shot.”

I waited for a patrolling Treant to path into spell range, then threw myself into the fight, winding up a Ravenbolt and sending a shadowy bird ripping through the air and dispersing the mist that covered the ground in a straight line, revealing pale stonework beneath.

The spell hit home with its typical feathery explosion and caused a few cinders to spark out of the Treant's eye sockets while a yellow 44 drifted up above its head.

But I'd only knocked about a fifth of its Health off. “Wow. That mob's Health is off the charts.” I glanced at my Mana bar. Killing this thing was going to take every ounce of Mana I had.

I almost popped one of my Siphonshots right there on the spot, but then the Treant took a step toward me, its heavy footfall reverberating through the chamber. Then slowly, glacially, it took a second step. And…it was barely moving at all.

I tossed out a second bolt and moved into a third as a chill crept up my spine. The mob limped toward me, presenting no threat whatsoever. “You know, I'm getting a really bad feeling about this.”

“Why?” Frank said. “'Cause you're sitting back and casting spells like a poo-flinging monkey when you could be getting up in that thing's face and establishing your dominance?”

“What? No. Because this seems too easy.”

“I would've said lame instead of easy,” Frank said, “but sure. Target Health at 44%.”

I was halfway through the next bolt when the Treant roared, sparks flying out of its crescent-shaped mouth. It plunged a hand into the ground, and its eye sockets brightened until they were hard to look at, becoming molten with light.

“What is that thing up—” I cut off as the ground beneath me shifted, then bubbled as if something was emerging from below.

I canceled my cast and threw myself to the side, dropping a shoulder and rolling as I hit the ground, then smoothly regaining my feet. Which was not a thing I could have done back in the real world, but here…it felt perfectly natural, like the game interpreted what I wanted my body to do and reacted according to my stats rather than my real-world abilities.

And if that was the case, maybe there really was something to the Intelligence/Dexterity build Frank had stuck me with.

The Treant's bark-covered fist broke the surface and surged upward. Seeing that its attack had missed its mark, the creature withdrew its arm and resumed its slow march toward me.

“Aw, man,” Frank said.

“What?”

“It missed.”

“Shut up Frank,” I said. I breethd a sigh of relief and dropped into another bolt, watching for a sign that the creature was about to repeat its attack. But I whittled it down without issue, and the next bolt put it down for good.

You defeated {Smoldering Treant}!

You gained 30 Experience!

“30 Experience?” I said. “That is awesome.” I dropped to the floor and popped another gourd of water.

“Blue sparks,” Frank said.

My heartbeat spiked, and I had to fight the urge to spring into motion and immediately grab whatever it was that had dropped. But at the rate I was burning through my water—I'd already used up nearly half the supply I'd been given—I couldn't afford to move and waste the remainder of the item's effect. “That means it dropped a Rare item, yeah?”

“You got it,” Frank said.

“Oh, question: how much better are the upper rarities?”

“Rare isn't high tier in this game. It goes Common, Uncommon, Rare, Epic, Mythic, Legendary, Artifact. So, a Rare item might be solidly better than an equal level Uncommon, but an Uncommon that's a couple levels higher would probably replace it.”

“Gotcha,” I said. “Still awesome.”

I waited for my Mana to top off, then sprinted over to the mob and looted it.

{Barkhide Boots}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Feet

Type: Leather

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +2 Intelligence, +1 Constitution

Armor: +3%

I tried to throw those on—they represented a massive upgrade over my Dark Mystic boots—but I got an error message that said I lacked the proficiency for Leather armor.

“Bah,” I said. “I'm stuck in cloth, huh?”

“You are indeed stuck wearing a dress,” Frank said, “at least until your Tier 2 class change. And maybe longer.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah, surprisingly unlucky,” Frank said. “The starter areas all have biased loot tables that prioritize rewarding players with stuff they can actually use. Yet another reason it sucks to be you.”

I shrugged it off and dropped the boots into my inventory. They were still a good find, and they'd probably sell for a decent price once the other players got into the game and the economy started ramping up.

“No point in getting hung up on it now. But yeah, hopefully the next find's a better fit for—”

I cut off as the ceiling cracked and a bolt of lightning ripped down out of the fissure and struck the nearest Treant.

A deafening roar filled the cavern and my vision went entirely white, but when it cleared, a Treant fully twice the size of the others loomed before me, little jets of lightning crackling off its skin.

“Ohhh, Rare mob!” Frank said.

“Who's unlucky now?”

{Thunderstruck Treant} (Level 4 Elemental) (Veteran) (Rare)

H.P: 280/280

M.P: 150/150

I whistled. “That is…a lot of Health. And Rare mobs have gotta be stronger, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Substantially stronger, but with way better loot. They'll always drop a Rare: could be an item, could be a powerful Soul Gem. And most importantly, they also award a little bit of Renown, plus a larger chunk if you're the first to kill it.”

“Now you're talking,” I said. I licked my lips. It had taken six bolts to put down the last Treant I'd killed, which had required my entire Mana pool. I frowned, then did some quick math and realized I didn't actually have the raw Mana to cast six bolts in a row. “Frank, what's the regen like in-game? Are there different types?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I can't give you the exact numbers, but out-of-combat regen is the stronger version, obviously, then there's two types of in-combat regen: one where you're actively casting, and another where you haven't spent any Mana within the last five seconds. The latter would regenerate your Mana at a faster rate.”

“Cool. So I can always count on getting a little bit back during each fight. Thanks.”

“Again with the thanking,” Frank said.

“Does it really bother you that much?”

“Clearly.”

I suppressed a grin. I'd always hated the phrase kill 'em with kindness—because in my experience, treating people better than they deserved had almost invariably resulted in me being taken advantage of, particularly in the corporate world—but in Frank's case, the expression could be applied in a much more literal fashion.

“I'm so sorry, Frank,” I said. “I promise it won't ever happen again.”

Frank squinted at me. “I accept your weird apology, but I find your enthusiasm deeply unsettling.”

“Thank you so much!”

Frank hesitated. “Stop that.”

“Sorry, I'm just so overcome with gratitude that I feel like I'm about to burst. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“I despise you,” Frank said.

“Shitty father lesson number fifty-seven, Frank. Never let somebody know when they're getting under your skin. That was one of his better ones, actually.”

“Stupid, pertinent dad wisdom,” Frank said. “Whatever, my dad could beat up your dad.”

“My dad's dead, Frank. That wouldn't be much of a competition.”

Frank tensed at my side, which was kind of surprising. I still couldn't wrap my head around how real he seemed. “Oh. Right. I uh…forgot.”

I shrugged. “Don't worry about it. I wouldn't lose any sleep if somebody dug him up. And the idea of Kline unearthing a skeleton so he could punch it one last time is pretty amusing. Plus, he's petty enough that I can almost see it.”

“Hm,” Frank said.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright then. Back to business.” I pulled one of my Siphonshots out of my inventory, causing the small capsule to pop into the palm of my hand.

It was a narrow cylinder about two inches across and was about the width of my thumb, and the vessel itself was made of a coppery, almost reflective material surprisingly cold to the touch. I thought use, and the item burst into a tight cloud of purplish haze that quickly dissipated.

I checked my status bar, scanning the new buff icon that had popped up.

{Weak Siphonshot}

Your successful spells and abilities refund 5 Mana.

Duration: 1 Hour

That made me feel pretty good about my profession choice, especially because I hadn't seen any harvestable herbs so far, and dropping the cost of my bolts from 40 Mana down to 35 seemed like a big deal.

That gave me the raw Mana to cast six bolts back to back without factoring in regeneration, which was exactly what I needed because given how hard I'd hit the last Treant, I was going to need seven spells to put this thing down. And that was assuming I didn't miss.

“What do you reckon my odds are here?” I said.

“No idea,” Frank said. “But you suck at everything, so…bad?”

“I'll take those odds all day,” I said and wound up a Ravenbolt.

Frank raised his nonexistent eyebrows. “You didn't forget about the whole not-dying thing, right? I wasn't joking about the odds. This thing is going to be a lot more difficult than that last mob you killed.”

I let the bolt I'd been casting fizzle away. “Oh.” I had indeed completely forgotten about the not-dying thing. I chewed my bottom lip and watched the huge mob stomp around.

I didn't have much of a frame of reference yet, but it didn't seem like I'd acquired much Renown, so I wasn't too worried about the death penalty. But the idea of missing out on an important questline or bonus farther down the road was much more troublesome.

Ignoring the creature and continuing my quest was the safer bet, but the idea of leaving a Rare mob creature behind—the very first of its type—for whoever came next? Without even trying to kill it? That just didn't sit right with me. And honestly, I'd already spent far too much of my life playing things safe.

“I'm going for it,” I said. “If I miss an important cast or if things start going south, I'll just run away and hope it can't catch me.”

“It's your funeral,” Frank said. “I wouldn't go.”

I cocked an eyebrow down at him.

“You wouldn't what? Try to kill the mob? Didn't figure you for the type to back down from a fight.”

“Oh, no, I'd have definitely thrown myself at that mob the very moment it spawned,” Frank said. “Like a total boss. I was saying I wouldn't go to your funeral.”

I laughed, then instantly regretted it. Wasn't like he needed the encouragement.

“Like, if you died.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Just making sure.”

I set my feet and wound up a bolt, hoping for a duplicate proc to speed things up right off the bat, but it didn't come.

“Hit for 44,” Frank said.

The enormous Treant roared and whirled on me, and despite its size, it was significantly faster than the others. I slipped into a root, completing the cast while the mob was still about twenty feet away.

The black roots crept up out of the mist and snarled themselves around the Treant's thick legs. The mob kicked and strained against its bonds, and though a few of the roots snapped, the spell held firm.

I turned and ran, retreating to the maximum range from where I could bolt the creature. Then I waited, an eye on my Mana bar. Which was not increasing nearly fast enough.

“What are you waiting for?” Frank said.

“Roots doesn't hit hard, but that thing's pretty fast, so it seemed worth using. Might as well let it tick the full duration so I can squeeze out a couple extra points of damage. Don't wanna bolt it right away and cause the spell to break. Plus, a bit of Mana regeneration won't hurt.”

“Ugh,” Frank said. “So much thinking.”

I dropped into a Ravenbolt as the root ticked under three seconds remaining, praying for a duplicate but once again being let down. The raven struck the Treant in its midsection, the force of the explosion staggering it into a backward step.

“Hit for 42,” Frank said, “target at about 70%.”

I glanced at my Mana. I only had a bit over half of it left. The Treant roared into melee range and lashed out, swinging one of its huge arms in a sweeping, horizontal arc.

I dove beneath the blow and behind the creature, rolled to my feet, and took off. I swung around and slipped into a Ravenbolt once I had some distance and was relieved to find that the mob was still turning. Apparently, its linear speed was pretty quick, but pivoting wasn't its strong suit.

I got my Ravenbolt off with plenty of time to spare, and I made a high-pitched noise I wasn't particularly proud of when the spell duplicated and a pair of shadowy birds blasted into my target, staggering it enough that I had time to start another spell.

“Hits for 42 and 45,” Frank said. “Target at 38%.”

“Oh man,” I said, “this is actually going to work! We've got this, Frank.”

“I remain both unconvinced and unimpressed.”

I shrugged and started another bolt, but the creature plunged a hand into the dirt just as the earlier Treant had. But then the earth sparked beneath my feet, sending little arcing bolts fizzling through the air.

I broke off my spell and strafed sideways just as an electrified fist punched up out of the earth, the air around it sizzling and crackling with heat.

I was far enough away that I didn't take any damage, but I could smell burned hair, and the fringe of my robe was actually smoking.

“That was way faster than I expected,” I said. “And also, way too close.” I sent another bolt zipping through the low-hanging mist, only to see it pass between the creature's legs as the word Miss floated up above its head.

“Get wrecked,” Frank said. “You've got about a quarter of your Mana remaining.”

I gritted my teeth. “It's fine, I've got the pattern down now. I can dodge those ranged attacks as many times as I need to, and its melee swings are slow.”

I let the creature close the gap, anticipating the same horizontal melee strike it'd used before. And when the attack came—a swing that was a perfect copy of the previous attack—I dove forward exactly as I had before. And realized that something was wrong the moment I left the ground.

Sure enough, the creature abandoned its first swing and kicked out a huge foot, catching me square in the ribs. The blow drove the air from my lungs and sent me ragdolling across the stone floor.

It still hadn't hurt, but I could tell from the amount of physical feedback that I'd been hit for a considerable amount of damage.

“I enjoyed that,” Frank said as I bounced along. “By the way, that kick just chunked 52% of your Health off.”

I slid to a stop and scrambled back to my feet, then squeezed in a Ravenbolt as the mob charged toward me.

“Hit for 45,” Frank said. “Target at 22%. And you don't have the Mana for another bolt.”

I double checked, and sure enough, he was right. “Damn.” I ran to my right, then juked left, baiting the creature into a jab that whiffed by several feet.

I got to its back and launched into a flurry of melee attacks with my staff, sending a trio of wildly pathetic numbers floating up into the air: 6, 6, 5. But the damage was adding up, and my Mana was regenerating at a substantially higher rate now that I wasn't casting.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Frank said. “Bash it! Bash it real good!”

I leaped backward, dodging a backhanded blow that nearly took my head off. I kept retreating, edging in and out of the creature's range and getting in a swing whenever it was safe to do so.

I kept at it, eventually whittling the mob down to 13% Health, where I knew a single bolt could potentially finish it off. And I only needed a few more points of Mana.

The creature repeated its subterranean attack, which I easily sidestepped. But then the Treant raised its free hand high into the air, one long finger extended toward the ceiling.

A group of cotton-white clouds materialized above the creature's head. Then they began to boil and darken and spread outward at an incredible rate, warping into storm clouds that lashed the ground beneath them with wind and rain.

I turned and ran as the rain pelted my shoulders; I could recognize an area of effect ability when I saw one. But my movements were sluggish, and a quick glance at my status bar told me that the weather was inflicting a snare, reducing my run speed by 20%.

“It's winding up a spell called Thunderbreak,” Frank said. “33% toward completion.”

I scoped the mob out, noting the typical cast bar that was filling as the spell progressed. I nodded and kept running, throwing up an arm to shield my face from the howling wind, my robes whipping about in every direction.

The clouds finally stopped expanding about ten feet ahead, though the ones that had already formed were darkening even further, colored in blues and purples.

“66% toward completion,” Frank said. “Oh man. You're so dead.”

“Shut up…Frank,” I said as I kept pushing. Seven feet, five feet, three—

“90% completed,” Frank said.

I dove the last few feet, crashing onto the floor just beyond the rain's edge. A titanic thunderclap filled the cavern, the roar booming off the wall and echoing around.

By the time the sound cleared, the clouds were already thinning overhead, with little pockets of ceiling showing through here and there. And the creature knelt in place, its head bowed.

“It's stunned!” Frank said, so I checked its status to confirm he wasn't screwing with me for no reason and found a new debuff.

{Manaburned}

Stunned for 4 seconds.

I threw out a Ravenbolt, watching my Mana bar zero out as the bird leaped from my fingertips. “C'mon,” I said, “c'mon!”

The bolt struck true, dark feathers flying off the Treant's torso. The creature fell backward, dead, its massive body smashing into the floor and sending the fog that covered the stone rushing away in every direction.

Chapter Nine

You defeated {Thunderstruck Treant}!

You gained 60 Experience!

You gained 5 Renown!

You gained 10 Renown for being the first Player to kill a {Thunderstruck Treant}!

You gained 30 Renown for being the first Player to kill a Rare Monster!

Congratulations, you reached level 3!

Your Dexterity increased by 3!

Your Intelligence increased by 3!

Reach level 5 to unlock the Player Housing system!

Congratulations, you reached Renown Rank I: Vagabond!

You may select 1 of 5 permanent Renown buffs!

Reach Renown Rank 2 to unlock another Renown buff!

Reach Renown Rank 3 to select a Tier 1 Renown Path!

One or more of your skills has broken into the next rank!

Sleep for at least 4 hours to upgrade your skills!

“That is awe—” I started, breaking off as yet more prompts overlaid my screen.

World-first Alert!

Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) is the first Player to defeat a Rare Monster!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to defeat a Rare Monster!

Awarding Title: {The First Hunter}!

{The First Hunter} (Unique Title)

All Rare Monster kills permanently award +5 Renown.

Some I finished. “Oh man. There's a Player Housing system too?” I scrolled all the way up and reread the prompts, trying to wrap my head around everything that had just happened.

“Skill ranks?”

“Happens when you level up,” Frank said.

“And…” I trailed off. It was too hard to parse all of that while blue sparks flew above the dead Treant's body.

I ran over and looted the creature, my pulse still racing from the thrill of the fight. And the reward was even better than I'd dared to hope.

{Cloudburst Staff} (Two-handed Staff)

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Quality: Rare

Damage Type: Blunt

Physical Attack: 5

Magical Attack: 18

Speed: Very slow

Primaries: +2 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom

Secondaries: +1% Haste

“Oh yeah,” I said as I swapped that weapon in. I took a long, appreciative look at my new item, which was similar to the Dark Mystic's Staff in appearance, though the Cloudburst Staff was etched with blue runes across its entire length, and a crystalline globe capped it on one end, lightning flickering with the glass. “What do you think?”

“It's a decent stick, but it would be a lot more useful if there was a pointy bit at the end.”

I snorted, then put a hand to my chest. My heart raced beneath my waterlogged robes. The entire cavern smelled like the aftermath of a thunderstorm, and I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. “Well, that risk certainly paid off.”

“Title's particularly nice,” Frank said. “Especially the part where you get bonuses for murdering things.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” I scanned back through the prompts. “Gonna check those boosts out. Didn't realize Renown could actually improve my character. Starting to really feel like we're onto something here.”

You may select 1 of 5 permanent Renown buffs:

1. You deal a very slight amount of extra damage at all times.

2. You receive a small amount of Experience whenever you earn a profession skill point.

3. You receive a medium amount of Experience whenever you uncover a new location in your mini map.

4. You enjoy slightly better prices when trading with N.P.C's.

5. You gain the ability to identify N.P.C religions at a glance.

I cocked my head at the prompts. They all seemed useful—though I wasn't quite sure what to make of that last one—but it was hard to tell which options were better without being able to see the numbers behind them. “Any chance you've got some improved prompts for me?” I said.

“Uh huh,” Frank said. “Here.”

You may select 1 of 5 permanent Renown buffs:

1. You gain 1 extra Physical and Magical Attack point at all times.

2. You receive 11 Experience whenever you earn a profession skill point. This buff scales with Player level.

3. You receive 19 Experience whenever you uncover a new section of your mini map. This buff scales with Player level.

4. You enjoy 2% improved prices when trading with N.P.C's.

5. You gain the ability to view an N.P.C's chosen religion whenever you inspect a friendly or neutral N.P.C.

“Easy one,” Frank said because of course he did.

But I wasn't so sure. “Do you have any information on how exactly those Experience buffs scale?”

“Nope,” Frank said.

“Damn.” In my mind, that almost eliminated the middle option. As of now, the profession buff was awarding a little less than I'd expect to receive whenever I killed a common monster.

The exploration buff was more substantial, awarding almost twice as much Experience. I pulled up my mini map and took a good look at it. So far, I'd only revealed two locations: the cavern I'd spawned into, and the burial chamber I stood in.

Neither of those seemed all that great. The damage buff was tempting, though. Equipping my new staff had pumped my Ravenbolt tooltip damage up to 51, and another point of Magical Attack would probably increase that to 52 or 53. Solid for sure, but not exactly game-breaking. And a flat increase wasn't going to scale very well as I leveled up and found better gear.

“Can you tell me anything about religion?” I said. “I don't have any idea what to make of that option.”

“Just that founding or joining a religion is possible,” Frank said. “You'll have to level up if you want more on that front.”

I shrugged. Religious gameplay didn't seem like the sort of thing I was interested in, but I could see how identifying other religions might be helpful if that weren't the case. “Alright,” I said, “so, how viable is trading with N.P.C's? Am I just going to be selling them whatever crap the players don't want, or are they actually a part of the economy for once? The trailer said commerce was important. If I want to build myself an army, or at least a decent base, will I be doing a bunch of trading and haggling?”

“N.P.C's are a massive part of this game, especially those with money or resources like merchants,” Frank said. “That's all I can say for now.”

I nodded. “Thanks.” I eyed the fourth option. If I took that buff and applied it to other games, it didn't seem very useful. In my experience, most N.P.C vendors had very little use beyond their willingness to purchase literal garbage.

But if this game was different, and if N.P.C's played more of a role than I was expecting? Then a 2% buff to both buying and selling goods could be very, very lucrative. And who needed a flat damage increase when you could just buy better weapons?

And at some point, I also had to consider the scale this game was built on. Making my character hit harder was all well and good, but at the end of the day, I was only one person.

But if I could hire mercenaries? Or even buy the loyalty of a few other players? That would far outstrip a damage increase.

I thought back to my father's firm, of those long, dark days after he'd handed me the reins, of the endless hours I'd spent poring over spreadsheets and reports, trying desperately to wring tiny fractions of a percent from this or that account.

In those days, I'd have killed for 2%. And while I was still totally broke in E.B.O—and probably would be for the immediate future—if there was one thing I'd always had a talent for in-game, it was making gold.

I also had to keep my current situation in mind. I'd been able to ignore the looming threat of the player base so far, but once they were in the game, trying to trade with actual people could very well end with my head being separated from my shoulders.

I hesitated as the threat sank in, the risks spiraling out in every conceivable direction. How was I supposed to succeed in a game where every single player wanted me dead? How was I supposed to accomplish anything at all?

It was a puzzle, clearly, one that seemed impossible from where I was currently standing. But if I solved it—if I became one of the leading figures of this world despite the obstacles in my way—I'd be a legend. I'd—

“You look stupid when you smile,” Frank said, instantly derailing my train of thought. “You should try not to do that.”

I ignored him and selected the fourth buff, thinking that passing up on the damage increase would infuriate him more deeply than any insult I could manage. And more importantly, the trade buff was what I wanted.

The other three all looked great, but at the end of the day, none of them had anywhere near as much potential to improve my circumstances in the long term. And while the wording was slightly different, this trading buff would stack nicely with my First Citizen title.

You earned a Renown buff!

You now enjoy 2% improved prices when trading with N.P.C's!

“Ugh,” Frank said. “If I could vomit, I'd be throwing up on your sandals right now.”

“Thought you'd like that,” I said.

“Did you really just pick that useless buff purely to spite me?” Frank said.

“Yup,” I lied. “Sure did.”

“Hmm. That's borderline impressive.”

I gestured at a nearby Treant with my new weapon. “Let's see what this thing can do, yeah?”

“Go, go, go,” Frank said.

The nearest Smoldering Treant was currently crossing the center of the crypt, so I ran over and tossed a Ravenbolt its way, which struck true and sent a yellow 53 drifting toward the ceiling. That was a bit higher than I expected, which I assumed had something to do with the creature's magical resistance, or lack thereof.

I threw a flurry of spells at the Treant from there, dodging its now-familiar fist attack whenever I needed to. The Haste itself was very slight but still noticeable, shaving a couple hundredths of a second off each cast.

Four more bolts put the mob down for good—a welcome improvement to my efficiency—and my Quest Tracker updated as well. I only needed three more Treants to wrap up the quest and get my next spell, unless there was another Phase.

I pushed on toward the statues and the opening beyond them, killing another pair of Treants along the way, both of which dropped Weak Soul Gems and a good number of coppers, bringing me to fifty copper in total, or halfway to my first silver coin. But more importantly, I also picked up my first potion.

{Weak Mana Potion}

Restores 200 Mana over 1 minute.

I paused at the entryway, which led deeper underground. Warm air rushed from the depths, humid and sickly sweet, and I heard something shuffling about below, grunting down in the dark. Another Treant, hopefully, because I really didn't want to backtrack to finish this quest.

I made my way down the stone stairs, trailing a hand across the wall for balance, and nearly toppled sideways when the wall suddenly vanished—I'd not noticed a hole that had been carved into the stone and had almost fallen in.

The opening was immaculately smooth, a perfect circle that disappeared down into the dark. The stone radiated heat, and it almost looked like part of it had been melted away.

“What's this about?” I said. “Any chance you've got a relevant entry for me?”

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

Codex Entry 197: Soundwhale

Soundwhales are massive, intelligent creatures that spend the great bulk of their lives swimming through the deepest reaches of the world as if its stone and magma were no more threatening than simple water. While full-grown Soundwhales avoid the surface—where their subterranean movement can destabilize entire cities—their young are curious and are thought to respond to certain musical vibrations. Voracious eaters, Soundwhales are also known to prey upon organisms of great magical power.

I scratched my chin. “Musical vibrations, huh? Imagine that has something to do with those fairies and the instruments they're making.” I waited, hoping to bait Frank into divulging more information, but he didn't budge. “Anyway, thanks for the entry. I'll keep it in mind.”

The tunnel made a sharp left up ahead, and I poked my head around the corner to find the last Treant I needed waiting for me.

I dispatched it in quick order, causing an icon to pop into my peripheral. Apparently, I could turn this quest in without returning to The Gardener, which was awesome because I'd already been dreading the idea of doubling back all the way to the cave I'd spawned in. I nodded at the icon and earned a little chime.

You completed a quest!

You earned 150 Experience!

You earned 5 Renown!

You may select 1 of the following 3 spells. Unselected spells may or may not appear at a later time.

{Horrify} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You strike fear into the heart of a target up to 20 yards away, causing them to flee in a series of random directions for 10 seconds. Damage taken may break this effect. Only 1 target may be Horrified at a time. Repeated applications of {Horrify} on Players and powerful mobs will result in severely diminished returns.

Cast time: 1.5 seconds.

Cooldown: None.

Cost: 40 Mana.

Next rank: Damage you deal is 10% less likely to break this effect.

{Mana Drain} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You drain 4% of a target's Mana per second for 5 seconds. Targets without Mana are unaffected.

Cast time: 5 seconds.

Cooldown: None.

Cost: 10 Mana.

Next rank: This spell now applies 1 stack of {Mana Burn} per tick, reducing the target's movement speed by 2% for 5 seconds. Stacks up to 10 times.

{Penumbral Curse} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You curse a target within 20 yards, causing that target to take 3% increased shadow damage from all sources for the next 30 seconds.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 10 seconds.

Cost: 20 Mana.

Next rank: Target now takes an additional 1% shadow damage from all sources.

“Well, that's an easy one,” I said. “Horrify looks great, but I already have a root. Penumbral curse looks handy, too, but the cost is too high for me to use it every fight, and that ability seems better suited to dungeons and raids, anyway. Figure we solve the Mana issue while we can.” I highlighted Mana Drain, then the next quest came through.

New Quest: Children of a Colder Star 4 (Group Quest: 2 Players Recommended)!

Objective: Kill the {Marrowsong Matriarch}.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell.

“Crap,” I said. “The next part's a group quest?”

“That does appear to be the case,” Frank said.

“We don't have a group, Frank.”

“Oh. Right. That is a problem.”

“Just how firm is that recommendation for two players?”

“Dunno.”

“And what happens if I can't complete it?”

“Also, dunno,” Frank said. “But…probably something bad? Also, you'll die.”

I blew out a puff of air and looked back over my options. Mana Drain was still incredibly tempting, but Penumbral Curse was out of the question.

More and more, though, I was drawn to Horrify. The ability wouldn't fix my Mana issues—and might even exacerbate them—but what if the group quest involved killing multiple mobs at once?

My root spell would definitely help there, but it had a fairly long cooldown, and it wouldn't keep a spellcaster from nuking me from a distance or do much of anything against an archer.

Horrify, on the other hand…that could make a dangerous mob much easier to deal with. Plus, I had that Mana potion to work with.

“I guess it comes down to this,” I said. “Mana Drain seems like the better fit for the abilities I already have but Horrify would give us a better shot at taking down a powerful mob on our own. And I can't risk failing this quest. I don't know if we're stuck here until we kill this mob or if failing the quest just means missing out on an ability, but the consequences can't be good.”

“And the not dying,” Frank said. “Don't forget that you can't die.”

“Right,” I said. “That.”

“Horrify would also strike fear into the hearts of our enemies,” Frank said. “Which is always a plus.”

“Well, if you're on board, that does make it a little bit easier.”

“I am more than on board,” Frank said. “I am the conductor of the fear train.”

I laughed under my breath, took one last longing look at Mana Drain, selected Horrify, and confirmed my choice.

You gained the spell: {Horrify}!

“Done,” I said. “Don't love leaving the drain behind, but I think that was the right call.”

“It was the right call in that it pleases me, Frank,” Frank said.

“And that is not nothing,” I said as I crept deeper into the crypt.

I entered a much more ornate chamber lined with stone sarcophagi to either side and an ominous stone door at the far end.

I stopped dead in my tracks. “That is a boss door.”

“I can't comment on that,” Frank said.

“What do you mean you can't comment on it? It's got a giant marble skull for a handle.”

“So the mystery deepens,” Frank said, in a dark and ominous tone.

“No it doesn't,” I said, “because there is no mystery. That is obviously a boss door. Bosses love ridiculously fancy doors. It's a thing.”

“If you say so,” Frank said. “I still can't comment on any of that.”

I stepped up to the door and grabbed the skull-shaped handle with both hands but hesitated. This was my first boss, and quite possibly my first real challenge. And I couldn't afford to fail.

I pulled the doors open. A grinding sound filled the chamber as the doors groaned open, then warm air blasted out through the crack, ruffling my robes.

I took a deep breath and turned sideways, then slipped through the gap.

The next room was huge and circular with a low ceiling, at the center of which rested a sacrificial altar. A creature stood atop it with her back to me, wearing a white corset and long black skirts. She wasn't quite human, with limbs that were just a bit too long and a set of frayed, mangled wings that jutted out behind her at strange angles.

A wooden skeleton was chained to the stone slab beneath her, a crown of interwoven roots resting atop its head.

I inspected her.

{Marrowsong Matriarch} (Level 4 Merchant Fairy) (Elite)

H.P: 700/700

M.P: 350/350

A shiver ran up my spine, and I tightened my grip on my staff in response. My mouth had gone dry, and for the very first time, I wondered if I'd bitten off more than I could chew.

Then the doors boomed shut behind me.

“Well, now that you're totally locked in,” Frank said, “I can confirm that for once in your miserable life, you were correct. That was definitely a boss door.”

Chapter Ten

The Matriarch spun to face me, slowly, with a long, straight bone pressed to her lips as if it were a flute.

She lowered her instrument and grinned, totally unconcerned she'd just been caught robbing what was obviously an important grave. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she said in a voice that was several octaves too high. “Have you come to make another purchase, Fae?”

“Another purchase?” I said.

“Ah, silly me. I thought you were another of the mistress' agents. So busy, that one. But no…you're just another instrument in waiting, aren't you?

So kind of you to come all this way just to make an offer of your bones. I have always found graverobbing to be so…tedious.”

“Is that what this is about?” I said, probing for information. “Making instruments?”

“A very special instrument,” the Matriarch said. “One fashioned from the femur of your greatest king.” She pressed the flute to her lips and blew a long, deep note.

The cavern floor shivered beneath me, groaning as if under tremendous strain. A series of borderline-musical notes answered her, a resonant keening that came from deep underground.

I checked my Spellshot buff and found I still had plenty of time left for a single encounter.

Something shifted in my peripheral vision, then a sleek, fishlike creature leaped up out of the stone floor as if it were the surface of a lake and into the air.

{Soundwhale Youngling} {Level 3 Beast}

H.P: 200/200

The creature was built like an orca, with twenty feet of muscle piled onto a frame that still managed to seem elegant despite its bulk. But the Soundwhale had a wide, circular mouth and no eyes to speak of, and its scales were blindingly white, so luminescent it looked like a shooting star as it arced through the air and dove back into the stone, leaving a scarlet tunnel hissing and steaming in its wake.

“Guess that explains the tunnel from earlier,” I said. I waved a hand in front of my face, trying to disperse the acrid, eye-stinging stench of burning stone. “Probably best not to get hit by those things.”

More Soundwhales appeared all around the room, flying out of the walls and the floor and even dropping out of the ceiling as if the stone offered them no resistance.

“Younglings?” the Matriarch said, her forehead creased in consternation. “I wasn't playing for younglings.” She glanced around the cavern, frowning. “Where are you, Ocelum? Aren't you listening?”

“Ocelum?” I said.

“Incoming,” Frank said.

Codex Entry 203: Ocelum, The Molten Ghost

The largest Soundwhale in existence, Ocelum has spent hundreds of years drifting through the deepest parts of the earth, waiting for the right notes to draw him to the surface. And when he emerges, the world will be forever changed.

“Forever changed?” I said, perking up at the prompt. “That sounds promising.” I eyed the Matriarch, sizing her up. Given that her Mana pool was considerably smaller than her Health pool, I figured that at the very least she wasn't a purely magical boss.

And with whales flying across the room every few seconds, it seemed like the sort of encounter that would be more mechanics-based than anything else.

I set my feet and rolled my shoulders, then popped my staff into my hand. “Alright, Frank, you ready? Got a hell of a lot riding on this fight.”

“I'm always ready,” Frank said.

The Matriarch sighed into a grin. “Oh well. Perhaps the flute needs a bit of tuning. Or maybe I simply lack the skill to utilize it. Either way, these younglings should be more than enough to deal with you.”

Her nameplate flashed red, and she pressed her instrument to her lips, her long fingers flying through the gestures of some kind of spell. A cast bar appeared above her head, the spell reading Matriarch's Lament.

I wound up a Horrify, and the area around me darkened, as if the world was being bled of color, then a shadowy skull blasted out of my palm and flew through the air, laughing as it went, its jaw clicking up and down.

The skull shattered against the Matriarch's chest, and she immediately abandoned her spell and went running around the cavern, shrieking, changing directions every few yards.

I pulled the Mana potion I'd looted earlier out of my inventory and downed it, the concoction tasting so strongly of mint that I had to snap myself out of pausing to appreciate it.

I watched the fear effect run its course, eyeing my Mana bar all the while, then wound up a Ravenbolt as it was nearing expiration.

The Soundwhales were still diving across the room, riddling the floor with holes that looked like little gateways to hell, and while they'd kept their distance so far, I was expecting them to turn aggressive at any moment.

My bolt hit home, blasting the Matriarch for 58 and breaking the fear effect and allowing the Matriarch to compose herself.

I started up another Horrify.

The Matriarch played a few quick notes, and a buff appeared above her nameplate.

{Song of Resolve}

Immune to all forms of crowd control for 10 seconds.

“Immunity?” I said as my spell neared completion. I dropped the cast, not wanting to waste the Mana. I took a deep breath as an odd buzzing filled the air, one that I felt in my very bones.

The Matriarch completed her spell and a dark melody filled the chamber, echoing off the walls in eerie fashion. All of the Soundwhales perked up at once and melted into the far wall, then reemerged moments later, flying horizontally through the air with terrible speed as if gravity had no hold on them.

I took a hesitant step backward, then another while I tried to decide on the right angle to take. Three of them were coming in high, and three of them were coming in low, so…

My decision made, I popped my staff onto my back and ran straight at the approaching whales. I took three long strides, then launched myself into the air, aiming for the gap between the two groups.

The heat was incredible as I sailed through the ghostly formation, so oppressive I reflexively covered my eyes and buried my face in my elbow. And, unfortunately, that was enough to cause me to lose track of where I was in the air.

I flailed as I approached the ground, and my left foot connected with the tail of the slowest Soundwhale, a glancing blow I wouldn't have thought anything of if not for the wave of warmth that radiated from my ankle up to my hip.

I hit the ground hard, my right shoulder taking the brunt of the impact, but managed to get back to my feet in quick order.

“Your Health at 65%,” Frank said. “Target at 92%.”

The Matriarch was still playing her flute—the spell had transitioned into some kind of channeled state—and the Soundwhales had disappeared into the far wall, but I knew it wouldn't be long before they reappeared, so I aimed a Ravenbolt in the Matriarch's direction.

The spell hit home, but I felt a little let down by the impact. I'd hoped the damage would stop her from channeling, but that wasn't the case.

The floor flashed red a few feet in front of me, a perfect circle I knew had to be either a landing or take off zone for one of the whales. I took a quick step backward and started in on another cast just as a Soundwhale dropped out of the ceiling above and melted into the floor in front of me.

“Frank, can you watch my back?” I said. “Let me know if they're coming at me horizontally like they did the first time?”

“I got you,” Frank said.

I got another bolt off and was halfway through the next when Frank made good on his promise, which was surprising, but also hugely appreciated.

“On your six!” he said. “One whale, coming in high and horizontal!

I kept my spell going but dropped to one knee, watching with wide eyes as another whale sailed harmlessly over my shoulder, the air crackling behind it.

My bolt launched, and the spell duplicated, sending a pair of shadowy ravens slamming into the Matriarch and sending two numbers floating up above her head: 58, 83.

“Target Health at 55%,” Frank said.

I glanced at my Mana bar, which was still about 30% and climbing thanks to the effect of the Mana potion, but that was already almost a third of the way gone.

The duplicate proc had definitely helped, but finishing this thing before I ran out of Mana already seemed dubious, potion or not. And at the rate the floor was getting eaten away, it wouldn't be long before I didn't have enough room to dodge the whales' endless attacks. I gritted my teeth, frustration boiling up in the face of what seemed like an impossible ask. I could almost feel my dreams of relevancy—of being the player for once in my life—fading with each passing moment.

The Matriarch ceased her playing, her eyes hardening as she watched me. She stepped forward and blew a quick note, causing the stone to erupt to either side of her as two Soundwhales dove up out of the ground and bore down on my position.

“Any holes behind me?” I said.

“You're clear,” Frank said.

I waited for the whales to draw closer, then jumped backward, allowing both of the glowing creatures to burn themselves into the floor a few paces in front of me.

The dodge had put me out of range, so I leaped one of the glowing holes to get back into position.

In response, the Matriarch blew three quick musical notes, and a trio of whales surged toward me from the base of the far wall, moving horizontal and low, leaving three deep, molten trenches behind them.

The whales had emerged from directly behind the Matriarch and, for a split second, it almost looked like they were going to surge right through her. But she gathered herself at the last moment and nimbly leaped into the air, her broken wings fluttering and providing just enough lift to avoid the creatures entirely.

She landed between two of the glowing paths the creatures had created, smirking in my direction.

But the attack had also given me an idea. If the Matriarch felt the need to avoid the Soundwhales, maybe I could use them to my advantage.

Facing the whales, I ran left, and the trio tracked me, but it seemed like the centermost whale was the one that controlled the pack's movement. Which meant going left or right might not leave me with enough space to dodge.

I charged at the three low-flying creatures and leaped while I was still a good distance out, letting their speed carry them beneath me. And while I managed to avoid them—and all three of them continued on until they disappeared into the wall behind me—I landed perilously close to the rim of one of the smoldering trenches.

I took two unbalanced steps with the trench to my right, teetering on its edge all the while, then popped my staff into my left hand, using it as a counterweight to help me keep my balance.

It worked, and I inwardly blessed my high Dexterity as I snuck in another bolt.

I managed to get two bolts in before the Matriarch began her Lament spell once again, then hit her with a Horrify to buy me a little bit of time to regenerate some Mana.

It was getting seriously low—my bar was all the way down to 15%, where a single bolt would pretty much zero me out—and the potion I'd used at the beginning of the fight had nearly run its course.

I squeezed in another bolt as the fear effect expired, cursing as my Mana dipped into the low single digits while the Matriarch was sitting pretty at over 200 Health.

“This is starting to look seriously grim,” I said.

The Matriarch used her Song of Resolve to become immune to crowd control, then she broke off her Lament skill and threw another wave of Soundwhales in my direction, six of them, all coming in at varying heights.

I stared around with a sense of building horror, trying to map out a safe route but finding none. The floor had become utterly precarious, riddled with sharp ridges and drops that almost certainly meant instant death.

I turned and put on a burst of speed, running away from the Soundwhales and leaping one burning hole after another.

I glanced back over my shoulder as I hit the ground, seeing that one of the whales had drifted up a little higher than the rest. I sprinted flat out to my right, flanking the Matriarch while running on a narrow strip of stone that had been created by Soundwhales burning into the spaces to either side of it.

I slid feet first as the wave of whales approached, covering my face, and praying the whale wouldn't decide to dip at the last moment.

My whole body flashed hot as I skidded across the stony floor.

“Your Health rapidly falling,” Frank said. “50%, 40, 30…holding at 27%.”

I eyed the Matriarch, who stood about fifteen feet away from me. The floor between was now almost completely impassable, more hole than stone.

“Fret not,” she said as six more Soundwhales emerged from the wall behind her and flew directly toward us. “Your bones will not go to waste.”

I eyed her status bar, confirming her Song of Resolve buff had faded. Then, when the Soundwhales were still a little over a second out, I slipped into a Roots of the Underworld Tree.

The Matriarch gathered herself and tried to leap, but the roots snared her ankles just before she was able to leave the ground. She stared down at her bonds, arrogance melting into fear, then into outright panic as the whales approached.

She pressed her flute to her lips, but it was too late. The lead Soundwhale opened its circular mouth and took an enormous bite out of her shoulder even as it barreled into her, sending a white 260 floating up toward the hole-pocked ceiling. The remaining Soundwhales dispersed, keening as they fled back into the depths.

You defeated {Marrowsong Matriarch}!

You gained 100 Experience!

Quest Complete: Children of a Colder Star 4 (Evolving Quest)!

Return to {The Gardener} to claim your reward!

I dropped to my knees right there on the spot. My lungs were on fire and my blood was pounding in my ears and…I couldn't stop grinning.

“That. Was amazing. The effects, the fight mechanics, being able to use a boss' mechanics against her? Man. I really thought we were dead there at the end.”

“Yeah, I was really starting to get my hopes up,” Frank said.

“Appreciate the help,” I said. “With how close that fight turned out, I doubt I would have pulled it off without you calling out threats and so on.”

“Lesson learned,” Frank said.

I looked up, my jaw dropping as I recognized the lights flying about what little remained of the Matriarch's corpse. Purple sparks.

I leaped a pair of holes just now starting to cool, spamming the loot command as I went.

You received {Copper Coin] x8!

You received {Flute of the Woodbone King}!

“She dropped her flute?” I said. I inspected the item.

{Flute of the Woodbone King}

Quality: Epic

“Huh,” I said as I summoned the flute from my inventory. It was shockingly light, the bone that comprised it obviously hollow and riddled with dozens of holes. “You got any idea what this is about?”

“Entry headed your way.”

Codex Entry 201: Flute of the Woodbone King

Commissioned by a powerful figure hellbent on putting an end to the Woodbone/Fair Folk conflict once and for all, the Flute of the Woodbone King is a peerless weapon upon which the entire war could easily turn…

I inclined my head at the prompt. “Now that feels like a hint.” I tossed the flute into my inventory. “How rare is that item?”

“Her rarest drop by far,” Frank said. “Only has a chance of dropping if you solo her, and even then, it's a crapshoot. Judging from the numbers, I doubt my dad was thinking it'd even drop at all for a couple months.” He sighed. “I wonder where he is. I miss him.”

“Any idea what the flute actually does?”

“Can't help you there,” Frank said. “You'll have to figure that out on your own.”

“Gotcha,” I said.

“Oh, actually I just got some new info now that you're almost level 4!” Frank said.

“Yeah?”

“Enormous Soundwhale boss on your left, coming in hot. Five seconds to contact.”

“What?” I said, my stomach dropping out. I was still low on both Health and Mana, so I immediately dropped to the floor and summoned some food and drink.

The doors I'd entered through groaned open, and a ring of orange light brightened a ways down the tunnel I'd entered through. It almost looked like someone was heading my way while carrying a torch. On second thought, that was exactly what it was. The Gardener was approaching.

“Ugh. You know, you're a real dick sometimes, Frank.” I said. “That was not cool.”

“Ha. You should have seen your face. Plus I saved your life back there.”

“Yeah, yeah, you were helpful for once,” I said. “It was a nice change of pace.”

“Don't get used to it,” Frank said.

The Gardener walked to the edge of one of the holes the Soundwhales had left behind and crossed his arms. “You have done the Underworld Tree a great service today, Mystic.” He looked around the crypt, his eyes settling on the body of the fallen Matriarch. “It is a pity she made it this far, but I'm not surprised her kind would sink so low as to defile our dead. I have no doubt she did so on behalf of the Fair Folk.”

“Who was she?” I said.

“Just another Merchant Fairy vulture,” The Gardener said. “An influential one, perhaps, but a vulture nonetheless.”

“She seemed to think I'd sought her out for some kind of trade.”

“Did she now?” The Gardener said. He sighed, then rubbed his temples with both hands. “That is…troubling. Did she mention any names?”

“Just that she assumed I was an agent of a mistress or something like that.”

“Interesting,” The Gardener said, his voice light and obviously relieved.

I glanced down at Frank, unsure what to make of the N.P.C's reaction. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Don't look at me,” Frank whispered. “I got nothing for you.”

“I'll look into the matter and let you know what I find,” The Gardener continued. He gazed around the tomb, his shoulders slumping beneath his robes. “It will take months to rebuild this tomb, and even then, I fear it will never be the same.”

He clicked his tongue. “The Fair Folk forces are pulling back as we speak. But I have no doubt this respite will be temporary. A direct assault on the Underworld Tree is nothing short of a declaration of war. Regardless, your reward is overdue, and perhaps insufficient given all you've done.”

You completed a quest!

You earned 500 Experience!

You gained 10 Renown!

Congratulations, you reached level 4!

Your Dexterity increased by 3!

Your Intelligence increased by 3!

Reach level 5 to unlock the Player Housing system!

Reach level 7 to obtain your Tier 2 class change!

One or more of your skills has broken into the next rank!

Sleep for at least 4 hours to upgrade your skills!

“Nice!” I said. “More spells! Let's get to it.” I brought up the three options.

You may select one of the following 3 spells. Unselected spells may or may not appear at a later time.

{Heartspike} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You sacrifice 45 Health to deal 45 shadow damage to all targets within 10 yards. Killing a target with {Heartspike} will refund 33% of the spell's Health cost and killing multiple targets will refund up to 200% of the spell's Health cost. This spell deals damage based on your level (base damage) and Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack. This spell causes a high amount of threat.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 30 seconds.

Cost: 10 Mana.

Next rank: Killing a target with {Heartspike} now refunds 35% of the spell's Health cost (refund cap remains unchanged).

{Spellflay} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You silence a target within 30 yards, preventing all spellcasting for 5 seconds. If {Spellflay} interrupts a spell, {Spellflay} also deals 10 shadow damage per second to the target for the duration of the silence. This spell deals damage based on your level (base damage) and Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack. This spell causes a high amount of threat.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 45 seconds.

Cost: 35 Mana.

Next rank: Cooldown decreased to 40 seconds.

{Soulshatter} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You attempt to execute a target up to 35 yards away, dealing 66 shadow damage and causing 50% of that damage to all targets within 7.5 yards. Only usable on targets with less than 20% of their maximum Health remaining. Killing an enemy with {Soulshatter} will reset its cooldown and refund its Mana cost, but this effect has a 60-second internal cooldown. This spell deals damage based on your level (base damage) and Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack. This spell causes a high amount of threat.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 30 seconds.

Cost: 25 Mana.

Next rank: Nearby targets now take 60% of the original spell's damage.

“Now we're talking,” Frank said. “I like option three. Far more murdery than the rest.”

I nodded. “That is true, Frank. Heartspike seems super cool, too, but the range coupled with the Health loss is probably too risky for me right now. Kinda seems more like a tank ability, honestly. And what's the deal with threat here?

All these skills have the same warning that Ravenbolt came with. You wanna run me through that just in case it's different in E.B.O?”

“Damage or healing causes threat or aggro,” Frank said. “So, if you're in a party and you've got a tank acting as a meat shield, you want him dealing the most threat so he can keep the attention of whatever you're trying to kill. But if you use a spell that causes a high amount of threat, it might grab the mob's attention and force it to attack you. And make you go splat.”

“Oh, typical stuff. I guess it's kind of irrelevant now, given that all three of these abilities generate similar amounts of aggro. Kind of a worrisome trend for a caster.

“Anyway,” I continued, “Spellflay would probably make for some clutch plays, but I've already got a lot of control. What we really need right now is Mana-efficient damage, and Soulshatter hits the mark perfectly.”

“…Does this mean what I think it means?” Frank said.

“That we actually agree for once?” I said.

“Yeah,” Frank said.

“I believe we do.”

“I hate it,” Frank said. “I feel sullied by our agreement.”

“Good talk,” I said. I selected Soulshatter and confirmed my choice.

You gained the spell: {Soulshatter}!

“I'm afraid our time together is coming to an end,” The Gardener said.

I started, having been so wrapped up in the spell options I'd forgotten he was there.

“But as always, there is more to be done,” he continued. “Even now, the Matriarch's children are defiling our graves, pilfering our very bones. And with every bone that's stolen away, the Underworld Tree's power wanes, its nourishment denyed.

“To which I say this, Mystic. If it's music they want, perhaps it's time we made them sing a different tune. And I've already got a composer in mind, one whose reappearance will send a clear message: that I will not stand by as the Fair Folk rampage through my people's homeland. Today, the Fair Folk have taken things much too far, and if it's war they want, I will not hesitate to strike while the iron is hot. Are you with me?”

New Quest: A Symphony of Hurts!

Objective: Make contact with {The Symphonist} and enlist her aid.

Reward: Experience and Renown.

“I'm with you,” I said as I took the quest.

“Excellent,” The Gardener said. “Do not fail us, Mystic. I pray I'm wrong, but I feel you may be our last hope.”

I checked my mini map and found that an area way, way to the north had been highlighted. I stifled a yawn, surprisingly tired all of a sudden. “Oof. We've got a trek ahead of us, huh?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “That N.P.C is out there. But guess what I just got?”

I cocked an eyebrow down at him. “New info? Please tell me you've got some new info.”

“New info, hot off the presses,” Frank said. “Unlocked with that latest level.”

“Nice!” I said as I left The Gardener behind and backtracked out of the crypt. “Lay it on me.”

“I've got three Hidden Quests we could do, all of which are mutually exclusive. But each of them will tie in really nicely with that quest you just got and keep us from going too far off on a tangent.”

“Hidden Quests?” I said, grinning down at him like a fool. “Now you're speaking my language!”

“Thought you'd like that. So, first up, we could go make friends with a Fair Folk musician who's currently holed up at a nearby inn.”

“Seriously? That's a quest? Make a friend?”

“Uh huh. He's got a rare ability, and his quest offers the most Renown potential of the three. It's also the most convenient of the three. It's almost exactly in the direction we're already heading. Hardest quest, though, 'cause it's got multiple parts, none of which you're allowed to fail.”

I tapped my chin. A high Renown reward was going to be hard to pass on, but I didn't love the idea that the quest's first objective was to befriend someone. “What else you got?”

“The second option takes place in a swamp to the east,” Frank said. “There's a hermit out that way who thinks the bog is haunted, and he wants you to investigate. That quest offers a bit less Renown and is a bit farther out, but it'll be easier to complete. And there's a potential for a Rare weapon if you get it just right.”

“And the third option?”

“The easiest of the three,” Frank said. “A shaman to the west needs help gathering ingredients for a powerful spell. Won't offer much in the way of Renown compared to the other two, but it'll be easy, even for the likes of you.”

“Ugh,” I said.

“What?”

“I was hoping one of those options would be better than the first. But the elf dude is closer. Plus his quest offers more Renown. So, easy choice.”

“Did you zone out during the part where I said it'd be more difficult than the others?”

“No,” I said. “I heard you. More difficulty, more Renown, right? That's where we need to be.”

“Oh no,” Frank said.

“What?”

“We're agreeing again. This is a truly unwelcome turn of events.”

I laughed as I made my way up the stairs and out of the crypt, sucking in a breath of fresh air as I broke the surface. “Can you drop me a quest marker or something?”

“Nah,” Frank said. “I can't actually give you quests or markers or any of that, just hints on what's available. The Fair Folk dude is southwest of your current marker, though.”

“Thanks,” I said. I jogged off, grateful to be back above ground. Many of the Bone Collectors I'd killed had already respawned, so I picked my way north, careful not to aggro any of them while navigating their trenches and dig sites. “You know, I feel like we're making the right call on which quest to go after, but I've got a bit of a bad feeling about this one.”

“Why?” Frank said.

“The objective,” I said.

“I don't follow.”

“Never mind.”

“Alright then. You should be working your way out of the dig site in the next few minutes,” Frank said. “See the pine trees off in the distance?”

“Yup,” I said. “But just for the record, when you say make friends with a Fair Folk guy, do you mean like…grind reputation with? Or actually befriend?”

“The latter,” Frank said. “It's kinda like a choose your own adventure thing, but with more control. You interact with the N.P.C in question while trying to win him over, and the game will evaluate how successful you're being in real time.”

I grimaced, despite how wild that actually sounded. “Any alternatives to that? We're supposed to be able to do anything in this game, right? So can we just kill him and take what we need?”

“You can do whatever you want here, sure,” Frank said. “But that doesn't mean one thing won't be way more effective than another. And as much as I'm always down to crush skulls for funsies, murdering quest givers tends to be a bad idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. I blew out a puff of air. “Alright. Let's head that way for now. We might as well give it a shot.”

“Give it a shot?” Frank said as I broke into a jog. “I'm handing you precious pearls of knowledge and you're going to give them a shot?”

“I just don't feel confident about this one.”

“Have you considered being confident anyway?” Frank said.

“It's not the kind of thing I enjoy, alright? We'll handle it—just drop it.”

“Not the kind of thing you enjoy?” Frank repeated. “You mean like…you don't enjoy making friends?”

I sighed because I could already tell Frank was going to take this and run with it. “Look, man, I've got exactly one friend back in the real world, and she's my home security system. I'm not worried about meeting this guy, but befriending him as an active goal…I don't know. It just makes me a little uncomfortable is all. I'm fine with socializing, but I don't have a great track record when it comes to keeping friends. Especially if you don't count House, who's great but isn't actually a person.”

“Wow,” Frank said. “That's super lame. I mean, I kinda figured you were a loner because you bought all the Head Start spots but never invited anyone to join but, man, hearing you say that out loud is, wow. That's next level lame.

Like, I don't even feel the need to mock you about it, and I despise you. That's how lame it is.”

“And yet here we are,” I said as I reached the first of the trees where the air was sharp with the scent of pine and the ground was soft with fallen needles.

“Sorry,” Frank said, “I wasn't trying to make fun of you that time, honest. It's just that even if I repeated the words that you said verbatim, it would still sound like I was making fun of you. Because—”

“Once again, Frank, I get it. Can we move on?”

“Cool. Anyway, I can help you out with the friend stuff. I've got a foolproof method when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“Definitely,” Frank said. “Consider the friend-making handled.”

I shrugged, though the fact that Frank was willing to help was a pretty huge relief. And, honestly, what was the worst that could happen?

Chapter Eleven

After a few minutes of jogging into the woods, of hurtling over stumps and bubbling brooks and watching birds fly from the treetops as I approached, I stumbled onto a wide, well-worn path that was full of deep ruts.

There was a small hill up ahead, crowned by a cloud of dust. It sounded like someone—or something—was approaching from the other direction.

I darted off the side of the road, hid behind a nearby pine, and waited.

A pair of small, black ponies crested the hill first, and an undersized carriage rolled into view behind them. Two very short men sat at the front of the carriage, one of whom held the reins while the other had a wicked-looking rifle resting across his lap. I inspected the latter of the two.

{Caravan Sharpshooter} (Level ?? Halfling)

H.P: 5,500/5,500

M.P: 2,500/2,500

His nameplate was yellow, though, which indicated he was neutral, and probably an N.P.C rather than a mob.

I waited to make sure the carriage was alone and there weren't any hostile targets tailing it, then I stepped out from behind the tree. I knew a trading caravan when I saw one.

I was about to call out a greeting when a sharp crack split the air, and the dirt erupted a few feet in front of me.

“Hands up!” the Sharpshooter said, shouting across the distance. His voice was high-pitched, almost childlike, and his cleanshaven face didn't help. “Next shot won't miss.”

The caravan driver pulled back on the reins, and the pack animals whinnied and jerked to a stop. “State your purpose!” he said. He looked the older of the two, with a black, bushy beard.

I raised both of my hands high into the air. “Just looking to trade,” I said. “That's all.”

The two Halflings muttered to each other, and the Sharpshooter kept his weapon pointed in my direction. After a tense conversation, the driver flicked the reins, and the carriage rumbled toward me.

I stepped off to the side of the road, giving them room to pass. “What gives?” I whispered to Frank. “I just wanted to trade, and they're not hostile…wait. Wait a second,” I said. “Did that N.P.C just react to the way I walked over?”

“Hmm?” Frank said.

“I figured he was neutral so I could just walk right up to him and trade, but he's acting like I'm a threat. Is that because of the way I approached him? If I were driving a caravan and a dude in dark clothing suddenly stepped into the road, I'd probably think he was trying to rob me.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “You know, you're not nearly as stupid as you look.”

“That is so cool. I mean, it'd have been better to not get shot at in the first place, but still. Very cool.”

The driver stopped the carriage a few feet away. “What're you after?”

“Just wanted to have a look at what you've got,” I said.

The Sharpshooter seemed as if he was about to lower his gun but decided otherwise. “You know damn well what we're carrying, Fae. And if you want yours, you can get it back at the cave alongside everybody else.”

The driver licked his lips. “Come now. Maybe he's willing to sweeten the deal if it means getting first pick of the lot. No harm in checking, yeah?”

“There's harm in every second we waste in this godforsaken place,” the Sharpshooter said. “Merchant Fairies will carve us up good if they figure out what we're carrying. They don't take kindly to people muscling in on their turf.”

That was interesting. Made me think these two were smuggling something. “Fairies just raided a crypt nearby,” I said. “With the Woodbone pushing them out, I doubt they're too concerned with a lone carriage right about now.”

The driver elbowed the Sharpshooter. “See? That's good info. Sometimes it pays to hear people out.”

The Sharpshooter grunted, then lowered his gun. “Fine. Make it quick.”

“This is what I've got,” the driver said.

A trade menu popped up, a panel with dozens of identical items.

{Fairblood Vial}

Quality: Rare

“You're dealing blood, huh?” I said. The items were listed at twenty silver a pop, way, way out of my price range.

For a split second, I wondered if I could somehow kill the driver and loot his wares, but it was just a passing fantasy. I had zero doubt that the Sharpshooter would one-shot me given our Health disparity.

The driver cocked his head at me. “Of course it's blood. What else would we be trading?” He scratched at his beard. “You new here or something? I can never tell how old you guys are.”

“Pretty new, yeah,” I said. I scrolled down to the very bottom of his trade menu and found some fresh water, which was listed at two coppers per unit, and some empty vials going for twenty-five coppers each. I wasn't sure if his prices were final, but it couldn't hurt to see if he'd give me a better deal. “Would you do ten units of water for twelve coppers?” I said.

The driver barked a laugh. “That's a lowball if I've ever heard one. How about eighteen?”

“Fifteen?” I said. “I already gave you some info, and that was valuable, right? You can breathe easier for the next little while.”

“Mm,” the driver said. “Fair enough, Fae. Fair enough. Fifteen it is.”

A little trade window popped up with all the prices already set, so I confirmed it and received my items.

“Appreciate it,” the driver said. “Anything else catch your eye?”

“Nothing I can afford,” I said.

The driver winked and flicked the reins. “Good answer. Path behind you should be clear. Woodbone keep the road pretty safe from wildlife and the like, at least until you reach Abernathy.”

“There an inn out that way?” I said.

The driver glanced away, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he said. “Road will fork at Abernathy, just keep right. If I were you, though, I'd stay in the town itself. Lot of stories going around about that inn.”

“Ain't just stories,” the Sharpshooter said. “Seen the blood myself on a run a couple of weeks back. Bunch of pine trees that might as well have been painted red.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said, holding up a hand in goodbye as the carriage rolled away.

“This place sounds awesome, huh?” Frank said.

“Awesome is not the word I'd use for a place where the trees are painted with blood,” I said.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Frank said.

“I'm also a little concerned by the fact you didn't mention the blood the first time around.”

“Wasn't allowed to say anything that specific,” Frank said. “If I'd been able to, I would have definitely led with the blood part.”

That did sound like something he'd have done. “Fair enough.”

“That was some half-decent negotiating,” Frank said. “You seemed pretty comfortable back there for a guy who's afraid of friendship.”

“I'm not afraid of…never mind,” I said, because it seemed like elaborating was just going to dig the hole deeper. “Trading's easy. It's like talking, but with a purpose. Everybody knows where everybody else stands, and all you have to do is find some common ground. That driver was obviously trying to make a deal. I could tell by the way he argued with the Sharpshooter, who thought we were a threat.”

“I am always a threat,” Frank said.

“Sure you are, Frank. Anyway, that interaction made me think I made the right call with that Renown buff, too. Any game where the world allows the N.P.C's to haggle is obviously intending for trade to be a major element.”

“Worth keeping in mind,” Frank said, which seemed even more promising.

I picked up the pace and ran down the road, feet slapping the hard-packed dirt as I gawked around at the forest, mesmerized by the way the treetops swayed in the breeze.

Even the forest itself was alive, packed with all number of critters, some familiar and some strange: butterflies, squirrels, Sarillas, the last of which were neutral, sloth-like creatures whose arms were so long their clawed hands dragged behind them in the dirt as they waddled about the forest floor, overturning rocks and fallen trees while searching for an easy meal.

I passed a stream brimming over with ruby red fish to my left, one that fed into a sizable lake in which far larger, more menacing shapes were gliding beneath its glassy surface.

There were mobs off in the distance as well: lupine creatures that stalked the very edge of my vision, wolf-like beasts with dark fur and overlong teeth that glinted when they caught the sunlight just so. But they were so far off I wasn't able to get much of a look at them, which made me grateful for the driver's assurances of safety.

“Should I go kill those things?” I said. “Whatever they are?”

“It pains me to say this,” Frank said, “but I wouldn't. Better to save more time for the elf quest if Renown is your goal.”

“Fair enough.”

The forest gave way to an oasis of farmland a few minutes later, a wide, fertile clearing wherein countless N.P.C's of a huge variety of sizes and races were tending to a purplish crop that looked a lot like lavender but taller, rising head-high where it was particularly thick.

Abernathy rose beyond the farms to my left, a surprisingly large village with an imposing wooden wall complete with what appeared to be a moat and drawbridge.

I couldn't see much beyond the wall itself, but the tops of several two- and three-story buildings were visible above it, which made me think the city was even more developed than I'd assumed.

The road soon forked as the driver had promised, and I was tempted to take a detour into Abernathy, especially after a particularly stiff breeze from that direction brought me a heady whiff of roasting meat accompanied by notes of hickory. But I kept to the plan and went right, leaving the purple fields behind and plunging back between the pines.

I kept my guard up as I ran on while the sun began to set. I pulled up my mini map. I was still a little ways away from the N.P.C The Gardener had told me to report to, but given Frank's directions, the inn shouldn't have been too far off.

And yet it was nearly dark by the time I found it because apparently Frank sucked at gauging distances.

The inn was interesting, though. It'd been built into an oak tree that had grown wide rather than tall and was decidedly less creepy than I'd assumed it would be. Several circular windows had been cut into the bark and flickered with firelight as if a hearth roared inside.

I shivered, partly because of how cold it had grown since the sun had set—my breath was already visible with every exhalation—and partly because I was already imagining how nice it might feel to sit in front of a fire in this game. And maybe even to grab a quick bath after a long day of alternating murder and cardio.

I stepped up onto the inn's rickety porch and knocked on the front door but got no response, so I slipped inside and found the common room was full of empty tables and chairs, entirely deserted aside from a pink-skinned elf curled up on a raised stage in one of the corners, cuddling his flute and snoring with impressive volume.

“That's our guy?” I said, whispering down to Frank.

“That's our Fair Folk alright.”

His nameplate was neutral, but given everything I'd heard about the Fair Folk, I still didn't like the idea of waking him up. “He's not gonna attack us on sight, right?”

“Nah,” Frank said. “A lot of Fair Folk are happy to do business with the Woodbone, especially in the middle ground between their two capitals. If anybody's refusing service, it's usually one of the Fae.”

Seemed kind of odd to me, but it sounded like Frank was being honest. “Alright then. Here goes.” I cleared my throat. “Hello?”

The elf sat bolt upright and looked around the common room with wide eyes, his gaze settling on me. “Oh,” he said in a voice that was much higher-pitched than I'd expected.

I tensed and almost spawned my staff into my hand right there.

The elf jumped to his feet. “Oh! We actually have a customer. Ma? Ma, we've got a customer!”

A door behind the bar flew open, and a curvy, middle-aged elf in a white apron pushed through it. “Lars, I swear if this is another false alarm—Oh,” she said. “Oh! Welcome, welcome!” She wrung her hands. “I've got something in the oven right now, but I'll be right with you! Take any table you'd like!”

“Thanks,” I said. I seated myself in one of the corner tables where I'd be able to put my back to a wall and watch the rest of the room. I still didn't fully trust that these people had my best interests in mind, but they had seemed genuinely pleased I'd come to their inn.

Lars gestured toward me with his flute. “Any interest in some music while you wait?”

“What'll it cost me?” I said.

“Nothing,” he said. “I'm just happy to have someone to play for for a change.”

“Alright,” I said as I leaned back and kicked my feet up on a nearby chair. “Sounds good to me.”

“Thanks,” Lars said. “Just uh…let me know if anything seems off, okay?”

I cocked my head at him. “If anything seems off?”

He placed the flute to his lips. It didn't seem like he'd heard me. Then he started to play, and it was horrible. Like nails on a chalkboard horrible, but with an aggressive amount of enthusiasm.

A sense of vague pressure built behind my eyes as he played on. It wasn't painful—at least not yet—but it was getting there. Then Lars blew a jarringly deep note of what even he couldn't have possibly considered music.

I swayed in my chair, my ears buzzing, skull vibrating.

“For the love of God, sheathe me,” Frank said. “I am in hell.”

I crammed him into his sheath and earned a contented mumble. I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt off, like I was under water. It still didn't hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

“Stop!” the innkeeper said. She'd emerged from the kitchen and was now leaning over the bar, her eyes wide and full of concern. “Lars! It's happening again!”

The elf kept playing, as if he'd fallen into some kind of daze.

The innkeeper snatched an empty glass from beneath the bar and hurled it across the room, where it shattered about Lars' feet.

He stopped playing and looked around like a deer in the headlights.

Something thumped against the inn's wooden floorboards, sending a pair of nails flying across the room as one of the boards popped free and curved upward. A sharp scent filled the air, and a circle of the floor darkened and smoked, as if it burned from below.

Nobody spoke for a long moment, and it was so quiet it almost seemed as if the inn itself was holding its breath.

Lars and his mother shared a glance once it became clear the danger had passed, and he dropped the flute to his side, dejected. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried.”

“You said you'd fixed it,” the woman said, her voice low and serious.

Lars eyed the floor. “I really thought I had it this time. I'm sorry.” He jammed his flute into the back pocket of his dark trousers. “It won't happen again.”

The innkeeper covered her face with both hands, then took a deep breath and caught my eye. “I'm sorry you had to see that. But we'd appreciate it if you'd keep what you just saw between the three of us. If you can manage that, I can swing you a free meal and a cheap room for the night.”

“Sure,” I said, thinking of Lars and my current goal. “But I'm happy to pay my way.”

The innkeeper managed a small smile. “I appreciate that, but I insist. Lars, please take the man's order, then go prep him a room for the night.” She disappeared behind the bar, probably into the kitchen.

Lars came over and leaned on the back of a nearby chair with both hands. “Surprised you're sticking around.”

I shrugged, unsure of how to respond to that because running away did seem like the wiser reaction.

Lars pursed his lips. “Anyway, do you like squirrel?”

“Uh,” I said, unsheathing Frank and putting him back in his loop. “Do I like squirrels? Or do I like squirrel?”

“You know what I mean,” Lars said.

“…You got anything else?” I said.

“Sure,” he said. “How about some mystery meat soup?”

“It's squirrel,” Frank said, his voice low.

“Thanks Frank,” I whispered.

“Who are you talking to?” Lars said, frowning as he scanned the room. “Huh. Could have sworn I heard something. Anyway, squirrel or mystery meat?”

“On top of the weird music thing, Lars has really, really good hearing,” Frank said. I probably should have mentioned that earlier, but I didn't, so here we are. Oh, and I want mystery meat! I vote for the mysterious flesh!”

I cupped a hand over my mouth and faked a yawn so I could speak down to Frank, dropping my voice to the barest whisper. “Seriously? Of all the things to have a strong opinion about.”

“You're doing it again,” Lars said. “I can hear you.”

“I'll take the mystery meat,” I said. “Thank you.”

Lars shrugged, then headed off into the kitchen.

“So, what's the plan here, Frank?” I said as I seated myself at one of the many empty tables. “He can hear us? N.P.C's hear us? 'Cause The Gardener definitely didn't react to the fact that I had a talking axe. He seemed way less human than Lars does in general, too.”

“It's different with the major quest givers,” Frank said. “They're pretty subdued unless you really, really screw with them. Or if you break them out of their roles. And with the vast majority of N.P.C's, we can just whisper or talk when they're out of earshot. But like I said, he's got a good ear.

Goes with the music thing. And he's advanced out of necessity. He needs to be able to interact with you and judge how well you're doing in real time.”

“So…do you want to not talk from here on out? Or what?”

“I've got a better solution,” Frank said. “Just heed my advice without question and everything will be fine.”

Lars returned with a heaping bowl of soup and two chunks of freshly baked bread loaded with butter. He set one of them in front of me and kept the other for himself.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You're welcome,” he said. Then he lingered there for a moment, still holding the bowl, and I kind of…froze.

“Good God, it's worse than I thought,” Frank said under his breath. “Invite him to sit or something.”

“You wanna sit or something?” I said

Lars raised an eyebrow at me. “I can still hear you.” He looked around. “Are you messing with me?”

“Smooth,” Frank said. “Offer to buy him a drink.”

“Are we wooing him or befriending him?” I said.

“Wooing who?” Lars said. “What's happening here? And who is we?”

“Alright,” Frank said. “I'm pulling out the big guns.”

Lars squatted and peered beneath the table. “Where is that voice coming from?”

“I'm a ven-tril-uh-kwist,” Frank said.

Lars put both hands on the table and leaned onto it, peering over its edge and down at Frank. “Really now. A ven-tril-uh-kwist. With an axe.”

I groaned inwardly, then pulled Frank out and set him on the table.

“Yeah,” Frank said, “and this is my dummy, Ned.”

Lars did a double-take, looking from me to Frank and back to me. “Well, you're not funny, but you're definitely convincing.”

I snorted.

“Don't laugh at that,” Frank said. “That was rude.”

“He's right, though,” I said. “That wasn't funny at all.”

“Wow,” Frank said. “This is what I get for trying to help you out, huh?”

Lars stood up and shrugged. “You want something to drink?”

“Several bottles of liquor,” Frank said. “The really, really cheap stuff.”

“Sure,” Lars said, then departed for the kitchen.

“There,” Frank said, once Lars was out of earshot. “The stage is set. You're welcome.”

“What stage?” I said. “You didn't even do anything helpful. You just made me look weird.”

“You don't need any help being weird,” Frank said. “It is painfully obvious nobody taught you how to make friends as an adult.”

“I've had plenty of practice,” I said. “You can't run a company without at least being able to pretend you're an extrovert. I'm just rusty is all.”

“Lucky for you, the answer's simple. You just need to get really, really drunk together. I mean, like, totally and utterly blitzed. Then you'll wake up as friends, and we can move on to the next part of the quest.”

I squinted at him. “I really don't think that's how it works. Nor does that sound like a particularly healthy world view.”

“It's definitely how it works,” Frank said. “I have tons of friends.”

“Name one.”

“My dad,” Frank said.

“That's one person. And he's your dad. That doesn't count.”

“People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones,” Frank said. “Particularly if said house is their only friend. That would be super messed up, actually.”

I rolled my eyes. Lars was heading my way again, two bottles of clear liquid in hand. “Alright, say I agree to this nonsensical plan of yours. How does drinking work in this game?”

“All of the positives, none of the negatives,” Frank said. He hesitated. “Well, way fewer negatives, like you won't get a hangover or alcohol poisoning, that sort of thing. The game simulates the effects of alcohol while trying to minimize the bad parts, but a lot of what makes alcohol good also makes it bad in excess, so your mileage may vary.”

“Seriously?” I said, laughing the word. “That's amazing!”

“Absolutely,” Frank said. “If we can trick your brain into thinking you're an ugly little elf, we can definitely make it think you're drunk.”

“Alright, Frank, you win. I gotta try this out. Should be entertaining at the very least.”

“Sagare work?” Lars said.

I looked down at Frank. “Sagare?”

“Liquor made from a cactus,” Frank said.

“So, it's tequila?”

“Fantasy tequila,” Frank said.

“Sure,” I said. Normally I didn't do tequila because it tended to make me a pretty emotional drunk, but if it was the cheapest option, so be it.

Lars set the bottles down, then hesitated the same way he had before. It was almost like he was waiting for something.

I swallowed. “Hey,” I said. “You got time for a drink?”

Lars shrugged and dropped into a chair. “Might as well. Not like we're going to get another customer.”

Chapter Twelve

I yawned myself awake. Then squinted around at my surroundings, not at all comprehending what had happened or how much time had passed, or much of anything at all. Maybe I was still dreaming? Or… No, I was definitely awake. And the most discombobulating part of it all was that I'd awoken utterly rested, with zero hangover to speak of.

Which was pretty amazing given that Lars sat across from me, his forehead pressed to the table with two dozen empty mugs resting between us, plus a disturbing number of empty liquor bottles. So it was pretty obvious we'd fallen asleep drinking at the table.

A low fire smoldered in the nearby hearth, and the innkeeper stood at the bar, watching me with wide, horrified eyes.

I rubbed my chin, the night coming back to me in a hazy rush: the bottles of tequila, the squirrel soup I hadn't been able to stop eating because it was the best damn thing I'd ever tasted, the bottles of rum we'd ordered when the supply of tequila had run out, sitting on the porch with Lars and Frank and feeling surprisingly at home, watching the snow begin to fall and…I couldn't remember what we'd been doing out there.

I frowned and clicked a changelog icon I hadn't seen before.

Congratulations, {Ravenbolt} has reached rank: Novice 2!

{Ravenbolt} (Rank: Novice 2)

Damage increased from 58 to 63!

Mana cost increased from 40 to 50!

Current rank: Cast time decreased by .2 seconds.

Next rank: Cast time decreased by .5 seconds.

Congratulations, {Roots of the Underworld Tree} has reached rank: Novice 2!

{Roots of the Underworld Tree} (Rank: Novice 2)

Damage per tick increased from 1 to 2!

Cooldown decreased from 15 seconds to 14 seconds!

Mana cost increased from 25 to 35!

Current rank: Cooldown reduced by 1 seconds.

Next rank: Cooldown reduced by 2 seconds.

Congratulations, {Horrify} has reached rank: Novice 2!

{Horrify} (Rank: Novice 2)

Mana cost increased from 40 to 50!

Current rank: Damage you deal is 10% less likely to break this effect.

Next rank: Damage you deal is 20% less likely to break this effect.

That was all great stuff, but the fact that I couldn't recall what we'd been doing while we'd been outside freaked me out. “Frank?” I said. “Please tell me the game hasn't been deleting my memories or some weird shit like that. I did not sign up for that sort of thing.”

“Good morning to you too,” Frank said from my hip. “No, nobody's actively messing with your noodle. Loss of memory is just a side effect of alcohol. The game simulates the effects pretty exactly so your body reacts as it usually would. The system can remove most of the negative side effects, but the memory stuff is too complex to mess with. So, if you can't remember stuff, that's on you for being a lightweight.”

I nodded. That was a huge relief. I did not at all like the possibility Kline could have been erasing whole parts of my digital life.

“It'll probably come back to you as the day goes on,” Frank continued, “but oh man, what a night, huh? That was the first time I've actually enjoyed myself since I was afflicted with your presence.”

“I have this lingering sense of dread that something terrible happened last night, but I can't put my finger on what it was,” I said. I eyed the ceiling, trying to piece the night back together. “In fairness, this is exactly how I tend to feel after a night of drinking in the real world, so I guess the alcohol simulator gets a thumbs up. And not having a hangover is amazing. I feel great.”

“Right?” Frank said.

I glanced over at the bar, where the innkeeper still stared at me like I was some kind of monster, which immediately put me back on edge.

I dropped my voice to keep from disturbing Lars. “Why is Lars still here?” I glanced at the nearest window, where the first rays of morning sunlight were leaking through.

“We won him over,” Frank said. “He still thinks you're a ven-tril-uh-kwist with a personality disorder, and I realize that probably isn't ideal in the long term, but I think we're pretty much good as far as he's concerned. Do you really not remember talking to him about the Symphonist?”

I cocked my head. Now that he mentioned it, I did remember bringing that up. “Kind of,” I said. “Lars was going on about music, I think? It was the only thing that made him happy, but he was talking about giving it up because bad things always happened whenever he played…”

“Getting there,” Frank said.

I nodded, the memory sharpening back into existence. “I mentioned I was on the way to see some famous Woodbone musician and that he could tag along if he wanted to, thinking she might be able to help him.”

“Yup!” Frank said. “That's pretty much how it went. Except I was indispensable. As usual.”

“Of course you were.” I scrunched up my nose. My face felt funny. Like my skin was on too tight. “Man, I wish I hadn't slept so long.”

“Eh,” Frank said, “you only got a couple hours, but you needed it. Probably should have slept more 'cause you were crashing hard by the end. System's really hard on your head mush the first couple days, but it smooths out over time.”

“I guess. Did anything else important happen?”

“You cried a bunch,” Frank said. “But other than that, not really.”

I squinted down at him. “No I didn't.”

“Eh,” Frank said. “Maybe cried is a bit strong, but you got super mopey for a while and totally killed everybody's buzz. You were all like, Waaah, the only thing people care about is my money, I miss my technobutler she's my only real friend, blah blah blah. I dunno, I stopped listening pretty early on 'cause I was busy watching Lars.”

“That didn't happen,” I said, though the memory was already coming back to me.

I was pretty sure Frank was just screwing with me and making everything seem overly dramatic, but I did remember getting pretty down sometime around midnight, right around when the fantasy version of tequila ran out. Which wasn't much of a surprise.

“All the moping was pretty funny at first,” Frank said. “Then after a while, it got kinda sad. But then it got hilarious again.”

“Wait, are you talking about House?” I said. “Technobutler? Not a bad term, by the way.”

“Thanks, I made it up. And yeah, you invited her here,” Frank said. “Not sure how you thought that was going to work at the time, but yeah. She seemed pretty excited for a super stiff A.I who seems totally incapable of feigning emotion. Listening to her talk made me feel superior. It was nice.”

“Wow,” I said. “Shots fired. Tell me how you really feel, Frank.”

“Then we adventured.”

“You know, I do kinda remember calling her,” I said. I queried the system to see if I'd made an in-game call—I'd seen similar systems in the past—found it, then brought it up. And sure enough, I'd called House at about three A.M, and the call had lasted nearly ten minutes. “I really asked her if she wanted to play, huh? I've certainly had worse ideas. I don't know how that would even work, but I could use someone I completely trust, and House is nothing if not dependable.

I'm assuming she's coming? She does take requests pretty literally.”

“She said yes. Which is bad news 'cause my dad's definitely gonna say no. God, he's so awesome. Everything he does is great. He's like the direct opposite of you.”

“Your dad?” I said. “Oh.” I slapped a hand to my forehead. “Crap, I'm an idiot. I'd have to ask Kline to let House play, huh? Might as well forget about that. No way he's letting an A.I into the game. Particularly not to help me.” I rubbed the side of my face—which was weirdly rough, almost sandpapery—causing a bunch of red flakes to drift down onto the table. “What the hell is this?” I said. “Frank, what happened to my face?”

“Adventure,” Frank said.

“Why do you keep using that word?” I grabbed a mug and held it up to my face so that I could see my reflection. “Frank!” I said, yelling in earnest now. “Why am I covered in blood?!”

“Dude, chill,” Frank said. “It's not even yours.”

I goggled down at him. “That makes it worse! Whose blood is this?”

“Does it really matter whose blood it is, Ned?”

“Of course it matters! Who does this blood belong to?”

“Just a bunch of animals, probably.”

“Probably! What do you…never mind. That's it. You know what time it is.”

“Why did your voice just get all low and ominous?”

“You deserve this.” I unlooped Frank, jammed him into his sheath, and did up all the buttons, earning an angry mumble and several wildly satisfying vibrations.

“Bastard.” I got up and headed over to the innkeeper, who was still staring at me. “Could I get some hot water, please?”

She jumped, as if she hadn't even noticed my approach. So she hadn't been looking at me at all, actually. She'd been staring at Lars, and I'd just happened to be sitting between them.

“Sure,” the woman said. She cocked her head at me. “You look…normal again, except for the blood. And I'm glad to see you finally put the axe away. Was starting to worry that you weren't right.”

“How did I look off, exactly?” I said.

“Your eyes,” she said. “All red and bloodshot, matched your…actions.” She shivered. “And that axe routine is just plain creepy.” She grabbed a bowl from beneath the bar and headed back into the kitchen.

The innkeeper reemerged a few moments later, gripping the rim of the metal bowl with a pair of thick gloves. She set it on the bar, the water within still bubbling with heat. “Might want to give it a minute.” She looked me up and down and seemed to come to a decision. “You really think this musician of yours can fix my boy?”

I frowned. “Fix him?”

“I don't mean it like that, it's just…you saw what happened. Every time he puts that flute to his lips, the damn inn nearly falls apart. It's like his music's calling to something. But I don't have it in me to make him give it up entirely. It's the only thing that makes him smile. Only thing he's got at all, really.”

“Yeah,” I said, just to keep her talking. “That makes sense.”

My guess was that the musician she was referring to was the Symphonist, the N.P.C we needed to talk to for the next step of our quest.

The innkeeper set a washcloth beside the bowl, and I took to scrubbing myself clean, careful not to let any of the red drops splash onto the bar.

“I know I'm hard on him,” she said, “but the boy needs somebody to be hard on him. He's still figuring out who he is, you know?”

“I get that. And I'm happy to help however I can.”

“I do appreciate it. Never thought I'd feel so grateful to a Woodbone, but here we are. I just hope you've got his best interests in mind. But after what I saw last night…” she said, her voice a low whisper, “I don't ever want to see that again. Everything just…” She shuddered. “Let me get you something to eat. Settle your stomachs before you hit the road. And you don't worry about the cost, okay? Didn't like your methods, but thanks to you, we've got more than enough mystery meat to last the winter.”

“Thank you?” I said, unable to keep the question from my voice.

She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

I unsheathed Frank and stuck him back in his loop, then rejoined a still-snoring Lars at the table.

“That was wildly unnecessary,” Frank said.

“That's what you get for being uncooperative,” I said. “A little timeout would probably do you good every now and then.

“I hate timeout,” Frank said, pouting a bit. “It's so sweaty.”

“Something to keep in mind for the future,” I said.

The innkeeper returned and set two steaming plates onto our table: syrup-drenched pancakes, bacon, eggs, and a piece of warm, buttered sourdough. She grabbed an impressive number of mugs and headed off.

I nudged Lars with my foot beneath the table, and he stirred by degrees, his eyes bleary and bloodshot. “What…where…” He looked down at his plate. “Oh. Right.” He snatched up a piece of bacon and crammed it into his mouth.

“Morning,” I said.

“Apparently,” Lars said. “I feel like death.”

“Yeah, guess I lucked out,” I said. “I feel right as rain.” I rolled up one of the pancakes into a taco, packed it with eggs and bacon, smeared one end into a small dish of butter, then dipped it into the syrup, then into the butter again and took a massive bite. “Oh, my God,” I said, spitting a few precious morsels onto the table.

“Wow,” Frank said. “And I thought I was a barbarian.”

The pancake was pure, unadulterated bliss, light and airy, cooked perfectly throughout. The eggs were fluffy and wonderfully textured, and the bacon was otherworldly, the ideal balance of crispy and chewy.

“Don't knock it 'til you try it,” I mumbled.

“What?” Lars said. “That was totally incomprehensible.”

“He said don't knock it 'til you try it,” Frank said.

“Oh,” Lars said. “You're still doing that ven-tril-uh-kwist thing. Great.”

“Yup,” I said. “Sure am.” I nodded at Lars' plate, which he hadn't touched aside from the first bite. “You should eat. Long trip ahead, and we gotta get going soon.”

Lars pushed his plate forward and stood. “Don't have much of an appetite. I'm…I'm going to go pack up. And probably say goodbye.”

I nodded. “Sure. Take your time with that, eh?”

“Thanks,” Lars said. “I'll try to keep it quick.”

“He really is coming, huh?” I said to Frank once Lars was out of earshot. “I still can't believe we actually did it.”

“Told you I'd handle the friend-making,” Frank said. “It's been handled. You are welcome.”

“Yeah. You did good, Frank.”

“I'm aware.”

I polished off my breakfast in quick order, luxuriating in every single bite. And the best part? I never got full.

I hadn't been hungry in the first place, either. It was just full-on eating for enjoyment, and it was incredible.

“Gonna wait for him outside,” I said. “Maybe that'll speed this up. We're already down one day of Head Start, and I don't want to waste another minute of this one.”

I stood up and made my way between the empty tables and threw open the front door. A blast of arctic air rushed over me, little bits of ice stinging my skin. I lingered there in the threshold for a moment, marveling at how realistic the wind felt against my face. I stepped out, grinning like a madman, breathing in the fresh, morning air.

The sky was clear and blue—the sun was just breaking the horizon—and we'd picked up a couple of inches of snow overnight. The grass had been blanketed by smooth, ribby drifts, and the nearby pines were frosted over, many of the smaller ones bent in half beneath the weight of the snowfall.

Also, there was a copious amount of blood.

Huge circles of it whose varying shades of crimson were jarring against the snow. It looked like somebody had filled up a bunch of water balloons with red dye and tossed them about.

“Frank?” I said. “What is this?”

“I didn't do that,” Frank said. “Lars did that.”

“Lars did this?” I said. “Did what to who?”

“You'll see,” Frank said.

Lars popped out of the inn and into the cold a few minutes later, his eyes shining, a cloth bag hanging off his shoulder, his flute clutched in both hands.

He raised his instrument as he walked over. “You mind if I play for a bit? Keep my mind focused on something other than…” He gestured back at the inn. “You know. It'll probably sound a little off if I walk while playing, but I'd appreciate it.”

New Quest: {Like Moths to a Flame} (Escort Quest) (Hidden Quest)!

Objective: Escort Lars as he plays through the Wailing Woods. This quest will fail if Lars takes damage of any kind.

Reward: ??

I took the quest. “Sure, Lars. Whatever you need.” Then I inspected him.

{Lars} (Level 4 Fair Folk)

H.P: 120/120

Mana: 250/250

“Thank you,” he said. He placed the flute to his lips and blew a long, jarringly deep note.

A copse of trees about a hundred feet to my left shuddered in a wave, loosing themselves of all their snow at once.

Personal Alert: {Like Moths to a Flame} is now available. Speak to Lars to begin the escort.

I spoke down to Frank. “This is the Hidden Quest, huh? So if we manage to complete this, nobody else gets to do the quest?”

“It's hidden, not unique,” Frank said, “but yeah, this is good.”

Lars headed down the little path that led back to the main road, which was patchy with snow.

“We should talk to my dad,” Frank said.

I looked to Lars, who had stopped in place where the road forked to the north and south. Seemed like he'd probably wait there until I started the quest. “Now?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Your butler's gonna need time to level if my dad lets her in.”

“Yeah, you're right. Imagine it'll be pretty quick. How do we get his attention?”

“Dad!” Frank shouted. “Hey Dad! Dad! Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad—”

There was a sharp pop as Kline appeared in front of me, in all his shirtless, shoeless, weird-nippled glory. “What?” he said.

“Hi,” Frank said. “I love you.”

“I cannot believe that worked,” I said.

Kline shrugged. “You're the only one in-game. Of course we're watching you. Plus Frank just flooded our maintenance feed with several thousand simultaneous messages. What do you want?”

“Uh,” I said. “Frank and I were wondering if I could use one of my Head Start slots to invite my maid slash home security system into the game. I realize that's a ridiculous sentence, but—”

“No,” Kline said. “Of course not. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second,” I said. “Frank's lonely.”

“Am not,” Frank said.

“And he could really use a friend,” I said.

“I really don't care what he could use,” Kline said.

Frank laughed for some reason. “Such a jokester. It's funny because he actually cares about me a lot, right Dad? Hey. Hi. Pay attention to me.”

Kline snapped his fingers, and Frank vanished from my hip and reappeared within my sheath. He smirked at me. “That axe sure is irritating, huh? Even the sound of his voice just slides right under your skin.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty weird choice for a guide on your part, but it's your game, and you're a far cry from normal, so.”

“Oh, I agree,” Kline said. “In fact, I can't imagine a world where it would make any sense to make Frank as annoying as he currently is unless his abrasiveness served some kind of purpose.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Kline laughed. “You really haven't figured it out, huh?”

“Being evasive doesn't make you seem clever,” I said. “It just makes you annoying. If you've got something to say, spit it out.”

“Do you remember what I asked you back in my office?” Kline said. “Right before you stormed off like a petulant child?”

“You asked what kind of character I was going to roll,” I said.

Kline yawned, but it looked forced. “Keep going. You'll get to the point eventually.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, you shiny-headed bastard. You made him hate magic.”

“That I did,” Kline said.

I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to give him the reaction I knew he was after. “I thought something was up with Frank. Pretty sad you had to stoop that low, though.”

“How so?” Kline said.

“You gave me that longwinded speech about how I'd fail no matter how many advantages I had, then you turned around and altered Frank to make him as unhelpful as possible so you'd be right.”

Kline blinked, twice. And when he didn't seem to have a response, I pressed him.

“I'm disappointed, honestly. Always figured you for an ass, but I didn't think you were the kind of developer who would put a personal grudge above the integrity of his game.”

Kline's eyebrow twitched, and little splotches of color marked his cheeks. “That's absolutely ridiculous. Are you seriously trying to imply that being insulted from time to time actually stunted your progress? If so, you should probably grow some thicker skin.”

“Frank deliberately misled me on my race and class combination,” I said. “Because he wanted me to die. Go back and check the logs if you don't believe me. We've been getting along better since, and he's still been helpful overall, but he definitely sabotaged part of my game. And I couldn't roll another character because of the creation limit.”

Kline tapped at the air, probably accessing some sort of window I couldn't see. The better part of a minute passed while he manipulated his menus, and I didn't have anything to do other than sit there and fume while trying not to show it.

“I see,” Kline said as he dismissed whatever he'd brought up with a wave. “That…was not my intention. I didn't think he'd be able to go quite that far.”

“Your intentions are irrelevant,” I said. “You just admitted you altered Frank on purpose purely to spite me. Your one and only customer so far.”

“Please, you're far from my only customer,” Kline said. “The public interest in E.B.O has skyrocketed in the last twenty-four hours. Turns out that one of the best ways to advertise a game is to tell people they aren't allowed to play it. And here's the cherry on top. You're the talk of the town, Ned. And the whole world hates your guts.” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you, level 3? You should be five by now at the very least.”

“Don't try to change the subject. And yeah, I probably would have been level 5 if I'd gotten the guide you promised me. And not an A.I that argues with me every step of the way.”

Kline looked over at the inn. “Fine. I see your point. But you should know that A.I's as advanced as the axe are still a work in progress. The more human I make them, the less control I have, and the plan was always to have the axe seem as human as possible. And you've no doubt noticed some of my N.P.C's are less humanlike than others.”

I nodded, thinking of The Gardener. “Sure, but I don't see where you're going with this.”

“I'm saying that the axe's deception wasn't my goal. It was simply an unforeseen consequence of the axe's elevated instability. If I had any interest in ruining your experience, I could have easily accomplished that without using the axe, and you'd never have known I was involved.”

“Okay,” I said, “but even if you didn't do it on purpose, you still screwed me over, so the least you can do is hear me out on the A.I thing.”

Kline quirked his upper lip. “Fine. But it's still a no.”

I took a deep breath. “If it's a game balance issue you're worried about, it should be doable. My A.I is more than advanced enough to throttle her capabilities down to the level of a normal person. She'll agree to whatever terms you set, no questions asked, and she'll never, ever break them.”

“You have no idea how much computing power that would require on her part,” Kline said. “In fact, you seem to have absolutely no grasp as to how this world works.”

“True,” I said, “and I'm not about to pretend otherwise, but my A.I is one of a kind.”

“Sure it is,” Kline said.

“She's literally one of a kind,” I said. “She's an E.X.11. A prototype I inher—”

“Liar,” Kline said.

“What?”

“You heard me. I wouldn't have been able to design a world like this if it weren't for Dr. Endolla's work, and the E.X.11 was his Everest. It was a pipe dream that died with him. And the fact that you claim to have one is not only outlandish but incredibly disrespectful.”

“No, he definitely finished it,” I said.

Kline licked his lips. “Says you. When the entire world—even his widow—says otherwise.”

“He and my father were childhood friends,” I said. “And once my dad made it big, he bankrolled a ton of Endolla's research. When the doctor passed away, he left the E.X.11 to my father with the stipulation he never sell it. It was one of the few promises he actually kept, but he used to talk about how valuable it was all the time. And when he died a couple years back, I inherited the prototype. Thing was just collecting dust in the corner of my father's office, so I brought her home, and here we are. She is very real.”

Kline looked positively dumbstruck, the color draining from his face by the second. “If that's true—”

“It is,” I said, “but I don't see any point in trying to convince you here. You can take a look at her yourself if you agree to let her in.”

“Do you understand what this means? Do you have any idea what you have?”

“Yeah, House is great, but I've never really asked her to do very much. Like I said, she basically manages my apartment, but honestly I consider her more of a friend at this point. That's the real reason I want her in the game. Her name's House, by the way.”

Kline made a choking sound. “You were gifted the holy grail of artificial intelligence, and you turned her into a cleaning lady? God. You are a living, breathing example of everything I hate most about the real world.”

“Annnd we're back to the needless antagonism,” I said. “Great. I was wondering how long that would take.”

“And you named her House,” Kline continued, not listening to me in the slightest.

I eyed the sun, which was starting to rise in earnest. “Look, man, I need to get back to playing, and I obviously have something you want but can't get any other way. So, how's this. You figure out a way to balance House and get her into the game, and I'll let you look beneath the hood for as long as she's able to play. You'll have full access so long as you don't change anything.

I don't want you messing with her memory or her personality or anything like that. And if you can't figure out how—”

“I'll do it,” Kline said. Then he blinked again, as if he'd surprised himself by speaking. “I'll try, anyway. But if she imbalances the game in any way, shape, or form, she's out, prototype or not.”

“Sounds like it's in your best interest to figure it out,” I said.

Kline eyed me with an appraising look. “That would appear to be the case.”

I extended my hand. “Do we have a deal then?”

“We do,” Kline said, “but I'm not touching you. And I am never, ever shaking your hand. I only shake hands with people I respect.”

I dropped my hand to the side. “Whatever. You've got my email on file. You can message House directly through that, she handles all that stuff, anyway. Have her contact me when she's ready to play.”

“Fine,” Kline said, finally seeming to have fully snapped out of his daze. “Are we done?”

“I guess we are.”

“All of this aside,” he said, “I really am looking forward to watching someone rip that axe out of your grubby little hands. You wouldn't believe the amount of hatred your Head Start stunt has generated. The entire gaming world is absolutely seething over the fact that one person could be so utterly selfish. You're in for a world of hurt, Ned. And the clock's ticking.” He snapped his fingers, and a prompt flitted across my screen.

System Alert: The Head Start period ends in 49 hours.

“Why are you still here?” I said. “Don't you have a game to run?”

Kline rolled his eyes and vanished with another dry pop.

Chapter Thirteen

I pulled Frank out of his sheath.

“Dad, Dad, Dad—aw,” Frank said. “He's gone.”

“Yup,” I said.

“I miss him so much.”

“That makes one of us.” I jogged up to Lars. “You ready to get started?”

“Sure,” Lars said.

“Lars!” a feminine voice said from behind me. I craned my neck around to see the innkeeper coming down the front steps. Her son hurried over to meet her, and she unclasped a necklace that had been hidden beneath her apron and tried to give it to him.

He protested at first but eventually gave in, and the two shared one last hug before Lars rejoined me, and she headed back to the inn, where she lingered on the front porch.

“Sorry about that,” Lars said. He held the necklace out in front of him—a small ring attached to a thin chain—then tucked it beneath his tunic.

“Not a problem,” I said.

Lars hung a left onto the main road and threw a fleeting look back at his mother. Then he started playing, a somber melody with a resonance so deep it made my teeth hurt.

A new debuff popped up beneath my status bar.

{Lars' Lament} (Aura)

Deals 1 damage every 10 seconds to all mobs within a 30-yard radius.

“So if I don't hit something before that aura tags it, the mob is going to target Lars, yeah?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Well, peeling them off Lars should be trivial if he's only hitting for a single point of damage at a time. I'll just need to get the attention of whatever shows up. Can you tell me what happens if he gets hit?”

“You fail the quest,” Frank said.

“Right, that was in the description,” I said. “But I could just try again, right?”

“Nope,” Frank said. “You only get one shot at a Hidden Quest. If you fail this one Lars is going to freak out and run home for good, and that's it, that's all.”

“Damn,” I said. “Well, I'm glad I asked.”

We walked for a quiet minute or two while the forest thickened and dark pines crowded the increasingly narrow path, many of them still heavy with snow.

“Aww,” I said as I spotted a white rabbit hopping through the undergrowth about ten feet off the road. “That's adorable.” I inspected it.

{Forest Hare} (Level 1 Critter)

H.P: 1/1

“Heh,” Frank said. “Not for long.”

“What do you—”

The rabbit's cute little nose twitched, then the critter exploded in a bright burst of blood.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked to Lars—who was still playing—then to the circle of pulp that remained of the small creature, which was an exact copy of the bloody circles that had ringed the inn.

“Well, yeah,” I said. “I guess I do kinda remember that. So we got smashed on tequila and spent all night blowing up the helpless, joyful critters of the forest, huh?”

“Yup, it was super awesome,” Frank said. “For a moment there, I was actually able to tolerate your presence without feeling like I was about to vomit.”

“No wonder the innkeeper was so afraid of us.”

A group of crows scattered from the treetops about twenty feet down the road. I jogged up to Lars and moved in front of him, my heart rate picking up.

I heard the creature before I saw it, snapping branches and crunching its way through the snow.

It burst from between two dark pines, a towering, humanoid creature with the head of a moose, green ivy draped about its shoulders. It held a wooden battle axe in either hand, though it didn't seem to notice the weight as it pointed one of the huge weapons in my direction and snorted, breath steaming from its nostrils.

{Guardian of the Deep Wood} (Level 5 Humanoid)

H.P: 200/200

“Now we're talking,” Frank said.

I stared at the creature, a grin spreading across my face. I probably should have been worried by the mob's appearance—escorts had always stressed me out in the past, particularly ones I couldn't afford to fail—but standing there in the center of the path with a cold breeze pulling my robes to one side, with snow sparkling all around me and my breath frosting the air…I was just thrilled to be exactly where I was. It felt like I had a whole new world stretching out just beyond my fingertips, and I couldn't wait to see what today would hold.

I pulled a Siphonshot out of my inventory and used it. “Alright Frank,” I said. “We gotta step it up from this point on. You ready to make this thing dead? And everything that comes after it?”

“Stupid question,” Frank said. “You know I'm ready.”

The beast pawed the ground once, twice, then charged straight at Lars. I thrust out a hand and splayed my fingers, activating Horrify and sending a laughing skull chattering above the snow.

The projectile connected when the creature was still ten feet out, and I was glad to see it flee back the way it had come, rather than running toward Lars.

I let the spell run for the better part of its duration before I got a bolt ready, wanting to get some distance between us.

But right as the bolt was about to go off, the Guardian pathed behind a snowy pine and broke my line of sight, causing my Ravenbolt to fail. Thankfully, I hadn't lost the Mana.

Once the fear had run its course, and the creature reemerged from the forest, I changed tactics and threw out a root instead.

Then I repositioned myself ahead of Lars—who was still moving in that odd, sleepwalker kind of way—not wanting him to be anywhere near the creature's path in case it had an AoE of some kind.

I waited until the root only had a few seconds remaining then tossed out a Ravenbolt, which struck the Guardian square in its chest and instantly broke my root. The Guardian rushed at me, its axes pumping at its sides, snow kicking up all around it.

“Hit for 63, target Health at 62%,” Frank said.

I threw out a second bolt and sent a yellow 60 floating up above the Guardian's head. But the Guardian neared melee range, so I tossed out a Horrify and let the creature run around a bit, then threw out another bolt which dropped it to 2%.

I activated Soulshatter, my right hand contorting into a fist as the Guardian's body erupted in violet flames, a ring of darkness expanding out from the creature as a yellow 68 drifted up into the air. The creature hit the ground face-first, dead.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “That's what I'm talking about. Soulshatter was definitely the right pick. Plus the cooldown just reset, and I got my Mana back.”

I ran back up in front of Lars and plopped down onto the road, spawning a bit of fresh water and taking a long drink. “This seems totally doable if we've got enough time to get regen between fights,” I said. “Seems kinda easy, actually.”

“Wouldn't count on it staying easy,” Frank said. “Hidden Quests are no joke.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Does seem like I'm pretty much built for this quest, though. High-threat spells plus plenty of crowd control. And my Mana efficiency is a lot better with Soulshatter in hand, plus the added Mana from leveling up. Getting 3 points of Intelligence every level is amazing, and even the extra Dexterity is starting to win me over.”

I looted the creature I'd killed, grabbing a few quick finds:

{Copper Coin} x5

{Weak Soul Gem} x1

{Earthen Fiber} x2

I glanced at my inventory. Those last couple of coins had brought me back up to forty coppers.

I rejoined Lars as he caught up, scanning the snow-choked forest for signs of activity. By now the sun had fully risen, and much of the snow was beginning to melt, slipping off the branches in great, wet slabs.

A growl sounded from the other side of the road, and two green-furred wolves prowled out from either side of an especially thick trunk. Their faces were a deep, verdant green, and their coats were made of grass rather than fur, a few yellow dandelions standing in sharp relief.

{Undergrowth Feral} (Level 3 Beast)

H.P: 100/100

The pair growled and leaped in unison, kicking snow up behind them.

I horrified the first Feral and sent it bounding back into the trees, then swapped targets and rooted the second wolf well before it could reach Lars. Then I turned and ran a bit in front of my companion, wound up a bolt on the Feral I'd rooted, then a second that finished it off.

My original fear winked out, and the remaining Feral leaped over a bush, gunning for Lars. Another fear, more fleeing, a pair of bolts to put it down.

“You're getting better,” Frank said. “Incredibly low bar for sure, but still.”

“You really needed to add that backhanded bit at the end, huh?”

“Felt compelled to,” Frank said. “Can't help it. I was born this way.”

For a brief moment, I considered telling him the truth—that he had, in fact, been born that way. That Kline had ensured he'd dislike me before we even met. But it kind of seemed like the sort of information he was better off not knowing.

I looted the creatures and came away with twelve coppers and another pair of Weak Soul Gems, then ran up ahead and plopped down to drink and regenerate some Mana. I jumped back up and made it another twenty yards or so before the forest came alive.

And when the three mobs showed up—two wolves flanking a Guardian to either side from off to my right—I didn't wait for them to charge.

I got off a Horrify on the Guardian right away and was halfway through rooting one of the wolves with the laughing skull still in flight by the time the creatures even moved.

My two crowd control abilities connected at almost the same moment, then I was onto bolting, throwing out two quick casts to melt the first wolf.

Another pair of bolts took out the second, and a well-timed fear caught the Guardian when he was still a dozen paces out to give me some breathing room.

I used the brief window to reposition in front of Lars in case something else came at him, then threw out a quick bolt followed by a root to lock the Guardian down. The next Ravenbolt duplicated and put the Guardian down for good.

I dropped to the ground and started drinking. That casting sequence had used up nearly my entire bar. I sipped on some water and looked down at Frank. “What do you think of me now?”

“You fight like a fart on the breeze,” Frank said.

I cocked my head at him. “That doesn't make any sense. But it does sound weirdly poetic.”

“Thanks. Poetic is what I aim for.”

“Anyway, I played that perfectly and you know it,” I said. “You're just mad 'cause I didn't punch all three of those mobs to death.”

“I do find that annoying,” Frank said. “It's amazing, really. You kill a lot of stuff, but somehow it's never cool.”

“Whatever, Frank.”

About twenty paces in front of us, a humanoid creature stepped out of the tree line and walked to the center of the road, its shoulders back, its head held high.

“What is that?” I said.

“That,” Frank said, “is either a lucky break or a death sentence.”

I inspected the creature.

{Firefly Shaman} (Level 6 Humanoid) (Veteran) (Rare)

H.P: 550/550

M.P: 800/800

The Shaman was frail, and it wore a heavy mantle of patchwork furs it practically swam in. A crown of pale antlers rested atop its head, and yellow fireflies hovered about the horns, swarming around their ivory tips.

I glanced at my bars, which were nearly full. Plus Lars was still a bit behind me, marching nonchalantly along with his flute as if the entirety of the forest wasn't trying to make him dead.

“Another Veteran Rare, huh?” I said. “Looks like it's my lucky day.”

“Almost all Rares are Veteran tier or higher,” Frank said. “But yeah. Like I said, great find if you can kill it.”

I stood up and rolled my shoulders. “Alright. You ready for this?”

“Can't wait to be unimpressed,” Frank said.

The mob was obviously a caster, so I sprinted right at it, ignoring the cast bar that appeared above its head and the green ball of lightning that was forming between its outstretched hands.

“Three-second cast called Emerald Blast,” Frank said. “Suggest not getting blasted by it.”

I nodded and slid to a stop, skidding over the muddy snow and moving directly into a Horrify. Given the timing of our dueling spells, it was obvious that mine was going to go off well before the Shaman had time to fire.

The laughing skull flew between us and shattered against the Shaman while its spell still had the better part of a second remaining. I was tempted to throw out a root, but I didn't want to burn the Mana given the mob's high Health pool.

I got off a single Ravenbolt for 62, which instantly broke my fear, then was halfway through a second Horrify when the mob whirled in place, its eyes aglow with reddish light.

{Berserker Rage}

Immune to all crowd control abilities for 5 seconds.

I ditched the Horrify and was about to switch to a bolt when I realized something was up: the creature was casting another spell, but the animation was slightly different, the orb of lightning having been replaced by a chaotic snarl of electricity. I checked the description and froze in my tracks: Chain Lightning.

I glanced back at Lars, who was only a few feet behind me. I canceled my cast and bolted for the tree line, putting as much distance between Lars and me as I could.

I got a hand on a nearby pine and was about to swing around it when a clap of thunder filled the air and a jet of heat struck me between the shoulder blades.

The force of the spell sent me tumbling forward into the snow, green lightning leaping out of my chest and chaining from tree to tree, leaving the trunks blackened and smoldering.

“Hit for 35,” Frank said, “your Health at 45%. What did I say about getting blasted?”

“Cram it,” I said as I rolled to my feet.

Adrenaline pulsed in my veins. One more hit, and I would be toast. Failing my first ever Hidden Quest was not an option, though, so I really hoped the mob didn't have any more tricks like that up its sleeve.

The Shaman was already most of the way through another Emerald Blast, so I dashed behind the nearest tree and hugged myself tight, trying to make sure that no part of my body was exposed. If the attack reached me, it would all be over.

The blast of magic exploded behind me, the tree shuddering and groaning, threatening to tip over on the spot but thankfully my ravaged Health bar remained untouched. I stepped out from behind the tree, dislodged pine needles raining onto my shoulders, and interrupted the creature's next Blast with a Horrify.

It fled deep into the woods, so I took the opportunity to reposition, getting way out in front of Lars where the creature's Chain Lightning would be unable to reach him.

My nerves were on fire. I couldn't help but feel like some new spell or creature was about to come roaring out of the forest at any moment.

I kept an eye on the mob the whole time and was unsurprised to see its Berserker Rage ability activate the moment my fear expired. Thankfully, it took nearly five seconds to close the gap, so I was able to escape that dangerous ability.

I wound up a Ravenbolt the moment the creature entered my range, then dodged behind a tree as soon as the projectile left my outstretched hand.

The Shaman's blast of answering magic went wide, the orb zooming off through the trunks and exploding off in the distance. I jumped out and repeated the same tactic, sneaking off a bolt and immediately dodging out of the creature's range.

It worked like a charm, with my third bolt dropping the Shaman down to 66% Health as its own spell exploded harmlessly off another tree. I kept the pattern up from there, dodging among the pines and keeping pace with Lars as he made his way down the road, oblivious to the battle raging around him.

It seemed the Rare mob was out of surprises. I was going to make it, barely.

I whittled the creature down into the range of Soulshatter from there—to 17% to be precise—but by then I was out of Mana, so I had to stall and run around a bit to regen.

I let the creature send one last few-tul Emerald Blast my way, then activated Soulshatter, immediately following it up with a second copy of the spell as the cooldown refreshed itself, and the Mana cost was refunded.

{Soulshatter} hit {Firefly Shaman} for 71!

{Soulshatter} hit {Firefly Shaman} for 65!

You defeated {Firefly Shaman}!

You earned 80 Experience!

You gained 10 Renown!

You gained 10 Renown for being the first Player to kill {Firefly Shaman}!

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Another Rare down, thousands to go.”

“Your First Hunter bonus was in there too,” Frank said.

“Nice.”

The creature sparked blue, so I ran over and immediately looted it, coming away with a sizable reward.

{Lesser Soul Gem}

Quality: Rare.

Use: Destroy this item and create {Weak Soul Gem} x5.

Breaking the gem down immediately was tempting—I desperately wanted to level my profession and gain some new recipes—but I had no idea how useful this new variant really was. At the very least, that decision could wait until the escort was over.

I ran back in front of Lars and dropped to the ground to eat and drink.

Lars jerked to a stop and looked around. “Do you…do you hear that?” he said.

“Hear what?” I said.

“The music,” he said.

I shook my head. “Sorry Lars, I'm not hearing anything unusual.”

Lars played a series of quick notes, then cocked an ear sideways as if he were listening for an answer. “There,” he said, stumbling a little. “You really can't hear it?” His voice had taken on an odd lilt, an almost dreamlike quality.

I shrugged. “Frank?”

“I got nothing for you,” Frank said.

Lars started playing again and we pressed on down the road as the trees thinned and finally opened off in the distance. There was some kind of clearing ahead, where the grass abruptly stopped and gave way to brown, barren ground.

Lars picked up the pace a bit, then glanced back at me over his shoulder. “You seriously can't hear that?” He pointed off toward the clearing. “The music's coming from over there. It sounds like…it sounds like…it sounds like…” he trailed off, mumbling to himself and repeating that same phrase over and over.

I cocked my head and tried to listen, but all I heard was the wind whistling through the pines, the pitter patter of meltwater dribbling off snowy, overburdened branches.

Lars bit his bottom lip, then took off at a dead sprint.

I cursed and bolted after him, not wanting to risk failure by letting him get too far ahead. Thankfully, I was able to catch up without much trouble.

The wind picked up as we approached the clearing, stripping snow from the trees and replacing the scent of pine with something headier but equally sweet. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but my hackles rose all the same.

We'd almost reached the forest's end when two Guardians of the Deep Wood stepped from between the trees and rushed directly at Lars.

I stood right beside him, so I fired off a Horrify on the more distant Guardian then spun to try and root the second.

But the moment I started the spell I realized there wasn't time. The creature was already nearing melee range, axes in hand.

In shock, I dropped the spell and spawned my staff into my hands, whipping it into a horizontal swing and catching the Guardian upside its temple, forcing it into a step sideways.

“Hit for 4,” Frank said. “Target Health at 98%. Congrats, you officially pissed it off.”

“That was the goa—” I cut off as the creature recovered and threw out a spinning, backhanded slash that would have taken my head off if I hadn't ducked.

But its follow up attack—a jab I didn't see coming until the fist was inches from my nose—connected cleanly and sent me reeling backward, my vision blurring, eyes watering.

“Hit for 25,” Frank said. “Your Health at 58%.”

The creature came in hard with a leaping strike, both axes raised high in the air.

I dove sideways and cast a root, the black coils reaching up from the dirt and snaring the creature where it stood.

The second Guardian came bellowing out of the forest, so I threw a second fear its way.

I scanned the forest as I jogged up to Lars, waiting for the creature I'd feared to return for blood yet again. I still had more than enough Mana to deal with it, so I wasn't worried, and I figured the quest would probably complete once we reached the clearing.

But the seconds just kept ticking by, and still, the Guardian didn't return. I checked my status window, which confirmed I was still in combat. “Oh,” I said as the truth of the matter hit home. “This is bad. This is really, really bad.”

Lars was only a few steps from the clearing, where a green line had recently appeared. The finish line? It had to be.

Two Guardians and three Undergrowth Ferals exploded out of the tree line. Apparently, the creature I'd feared had run into some friends at some point.

“Run like the coward you are!” Frank said. “Or you can kiss not dying goodbye.”

But I hesitated. Running away meant failing a Hidden Quest for sure. Holding the creatures off so Lars could reach his destination meant a very probable death.

And Lars…he seemed strangely powerful, and surprisingly human, which made me think he might become a useful ally if I could get him through this. And an ally, N.P.C or not, was exactly what I needed right now.

Screw it. “Bird in the hand, Frank,” I said as I feared the nearest Guardian and rooted the second.

“What are you doing?” Frank said. “You can't die, Ned. How many times do I need to say that?”

I held my staff out in front of me as the wolf-like Ferals bounded toward me, one of them charging head-on while the other two prowled around me. “Maybe I can get away when the quest completes,” I said, though I doubted that would be the case.

But I didn't want to give up on the quest, or on Lars; he hadn't been very helpful so far, but having an N.P.C join the party in earnest could prove to be hugely helpful down the line, particularly given the limitations of my current build. Trying to finish the escort was a definite risk but hopefully it would pay off.

I spun in place, lashing out at the air with the butt of my staff again and again, just trying to keep the Ferals at bay for as long as possible.

One of the creatures leaped and I batted it aside, scoring a hit for 5 but opening myself up to attack. Sure enough, my ankle twinged a moment later, and I looked down to find that one of the Ferals had clamped its teeth around my foot.

Hidden Quest Complete: Like Moths to a Flame!

Speak to {The Symphonist} to receive your reward!

“Yes!” I said as I bashed the top of the creature's skull with my staff once, then twice, finally managing to dislodge it. I caught another Feral in midair with a sharp kick, opening up a lane toward the clearing.

Pain, then, the worst I'd felt, like someone had slapped the back of my head in annoyance. Mild in the scheme of things, but ominous given what it suggested.

“Hit for 35,” Frank said. “Your Health at 3%.”

I whirled in place with my staff at the ready, but instead of a Feral, I found one of the Guardians looming over me, an axe already in motion.

The heavy blade smashed into my clavicle and my vision went red, a string of words appearing in the center of my rapidly darkening vision.

You died!

You lost 10 Renown!

You dropped an item!

Return to your corpse to respawn or speak to a Graveyard Ghost (respawning via a Ghost will result in an additional Renown Penalty).

Chapter Fourteen

“Balls,” I said, biting back my frustration as my vision returned. The world was rendered in grays and blues, and I stood within a small graveyard ringed by an iron fence. Pale ghosts drifted between the tombstones, bobbing along as if riding the breeze. I figured they were the game's version of a resurrectionist, but I wasn't about to eat another Renown penalty.

Still, I felt strangely intangible, like gravity had less of a hold on me, and my senses had been stripped away. I couldn't smell anything, nor feel the wind on my skin, which left me feeling surprisingly bereft.

It also reminded me strongly of the games I'd played before, where the absence of such details was the norm. It was effective, though. I definitely felt dead, and it wasn't great.

“Well,” I said, “that didn't work the way I'd hoped it would. But at least we completed the quest. You got any info on where I go from here?” I paused, waiting for a response. “Hello?”

Nothing. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, “I know, you said not to die, then I died. It happens. And it was a Hidden Quest, man. C'mon. Frank?”

I stared down at my hip, where Frank was not hanging. “Oh,” I said aloud. “Ohhhh. Oh, crap.” My face flushed hot as the reality of the situation hit me. I'd dropped Frank.

I opened my mini map and found a skull and crossbones icon a little ways to the east, which was helpfully marked corpse, so I figured I probably had to return to my body to respawn.

I took off at a dead sprint, tearing across the ground at an incredible rate, every step carrying me three or four times as far as usual. Apparently, gravity was indeed less of an issue in the afterlife.

I kicked off the ground harder with each step until I bounded along five, ten, even fifteen feet at a time. The weightless feeling was a little spooky, plus the lack of wind, of sound, of color.

“Wow,” someone said from beside me, causing me to miss my footing, slip, and bounce sideways off the ground. “You already lost it.”

I turned to find Kline suspended horizontally in the air, just hovering there, motionless. “Ugh,” I said. “This just keeps getting worse. What do you want this time?” I righted myself and lurched back into motion while Kline kept pace, soaring a few feet overhead with no discernable effort.

“Your computer's being integrated into the game as we speak,” Kline said. “She'll contact you once she's reached the character creation menu.”

I nodded as I ran along, heart in my throat despite the good news. There obviously wasn't anyone in-game to grab Frank up off the ground, but I couldn't help but feel like he'd be gone by the time I reached my body.

“It should work,” he continued, “but there might be some side effects. Her personality—or lack thereof—should be entirely unaffected back in the real world, but I don't know how the integration process will affect her here.”

“Sounds good,” I said, only half-listening as I tried—and failed—to leap across a river. But my feet met the moving water as if it were solid, and I carried on without issue.

“By the way,” Kline said, “I thought you were leveling slowly, so I went back and checked our beta logs to get some data for comparison. And sure enough, your leveling pace currently puts you in the bottom 10% of our beta testers. Just figured you'd want to know how badly you've been doing.”

I was about to respond, but he'd already disappeared. I leaped between a pair of trees and found my body lying on its back in the middle of the road, one arm hanging at a weird angle, blood pooling around me.

And, thankfully—blessedly—Frank was just lying there in the dirt.

A button popped up in the center of my screen.

Respawn?

I selected the option, and the world slammed back into place in all of its glorious color. The sunlight was once again warm on my skin. The breeze was cool against my face, the air sweet with the scent of pine.

I snatched Frank off the ground.

You received {Axe of Unbridled Knowledge}!

“Ugh,” Frank said. “You again.”

“Good to see you, too, Frank,” I said as I tucked him back into his loop.

“Hey, Ned?” Frank said.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when we first met?”

“You mean yesterday? Yeah, Frank. I remember.”

“Back then I still had dreams,” Frank said.

“Nobody cares about your dreams.”

“Wow,” Frank said.

I watched as my body melted away into the dirt, leaving a wooden skeleton behind. I tried to loot the bones, thinking they might have some value, but it wasn't possible.

“Ha,” Frank said. “Nice try.”

“I thought so,” I said. I took a deep, relieved breath, able to fully process Kline's news for the first time. “By the way, Kline stopped by again. Hopefully House will be joining us shortly.”

“Really?” Frank said. “Aw man. Something big must have come up before he could stop by to see me.”

“Yeah, let's go with that,” I said. “You got any more info on the not dying thing now I've already died?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “You sure you want it?”

“Better to know,” I said.

“If you hadn't died prior to meeting the Symphonist, she would have offered you a choice of two Hidden Quests. One would have gotten you a Rare title if you managed to complete it, and the other would have given you access to a Rare skill at a later point in time.”

I winced. “Oof. Well, I guess I'm still glad to know. Definitely seems like it could have been worse. We basically traded completing one Hidden Quest for a shot at two other ones, and there aren't any guarantees we could have even finished the others. But how screwed am I on Renown from now on? At least until we've left the starter area?”

“It's a little bit of a setback,” Frank said, “but not a terrible one. If I had to choose between completing any one of those quests, I'd have picked the one you went with.”

“Thanks, Frank. I'm still irritated we came so close to unlocking more hidden stuff, but knowing all that really takes the sting out of things. I appreciate it.”

“Then I'll refrain from doing so in the future,” Frank said.

“Of course you will. Alright, back to work.”

I headed down the road to find Lars loitering in front of the clearing, at the center of which stood an old, gnarled oak, its branches leafless but hanging low beneath the weight of countless windchimes.

The chimes were silvery and oddly-shaped, and though the wind grew stronger as I approached, none of the chimes moved. And neither did the oak tree's many branches.

“Elves sure are big on spooky trees,” I said.

“You really can't hear the music?” Lars said, continuing as if I hadn't died a moment earlier. But maybe he hadn't noticed. His gaze was milky and distant, his glazed-over eyes having lost their intelligent gleam. “I pity you, Ned. It's so…beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.”

A doorway opened in the oak, and a long-limbed figure stepped out from within, ducking its head to avoid the low threshold. It wore dark robes, and though it was obviously humanoid, its limbs were just a little too slender, its neck just a bit too long. The figure cocked its head sideways—fully sideways, so that its temple was in line with its shoulder—and hissed a few guttural words I couldn't quite make out, notes that were on the same low register as Lars' music.

I inspected the newcomer.

{The Symphonist} (Level 7 Woodbone Fae}

H.P: 700/700

M.P: 2,100/2,100

“Guess that's our girl,” I said. “What you got for me?”

“Coming at you,” Frank said.

Codex Entry 235: The Symphonist

The Symphonist is perhaps the most well-known of all the Woodbone Fae, and is unquestionably the figure the Fair Folk fear most. She served as the Woodbone Queen during the bloodiest war in Woodbone history, until her palace was captured by the Fair Folk King.

The price for peace was stark. The queen was required to hand all of her kin to the Fair Folk, who promptly hung them from the rafters of her throne room. She was then exiled from the Woodbone capital, with the promise that, should she ever attempt to make contact with her people, a second war with the Fair Folk would promptly follow.

She has kept her promise over the years, busying herself with her dreadful music in the wilds between the two feuding kingdoms. But there are whispers among the Fair Folk that an old song has been rising of late, a tune even the wind is afraid to carry.

I whistled. “Exiled, vengeful queen whose very presence is a declaration of war. Good to know. Thanks, Frank.”

“Oh, my God, stop it with the thanking,” Frank said. “I literally have no choice in sending those.”

“But Frank!” I said, feigning as much gratitude as I could manage. “I just appreciate it so much that I can't help myself.”

“Ugh,” Frank said.

The Symphonist reached out a hand and made a come-hither gesture, though I wasn't sure if she was gesturing at me or Lars.

Lars covered his ears and screamed so loudly that he sent another wave of birds scattering and shrieking from the nearby trees. He dropped to his knees in the dirt, his eyes fully white, then flopped face-first onto the ground.

“Bring him inside,” the Symphonist said, her voice thin and ethereal. “I can use him.” She ducked her head and slipped back into the darkness within her tree.

“Wait, she wants Lars?” I said.

“Yup.”

“Ugh. So, he's leaving? After I just died specifically to keep him around?”

“That appears to be the case,” Frank said.

I rubbed at my temples. This was an irritating turn of events…sacrificing myself to save Lars only to be forced to turn him over to whoever this lady was.

I grabbed the elf by his wrists and dragged him through the dirt. His skin was cold and clammy, and it took a great deal of effort not to pull away. “You know, dragging an unconscious elf into a dark tree doesn't feel very heroic.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “But to be fair, nothing you do ever seems heroic.”

“That's because your definition of heroic has physical violence as a prerequisite.”

“I feel like you think you're making a point,” Frank said, “but I'm not sure what it's supposed to be.'

“I just explained…never mind. It's just that I liked Lars, and this sort of thing doesn't really fit the image of the life I had in mind when I first started here.” I eyed the Hidden Quest, which still read: completed. “Oh well, Hidden Quest. I shouldn't be complaining.”

“Damn straight,” Frank said.

I dragged Lars over the threshold and into the tree. Pearl-sized white beads were hung along the inside of the trunk, each of them glowing with a cold, sterile light that didn't quite reach the center of the room or come anywhere close to illuminating the ceiling.

I heaved Lars a little deeper in, and the door slammed shut of its own accord. The interior of the trunk brightened as the beads flared and dimmed in rapid succession, strobing light through the small space.

Something—no, two somethings, bulbous shapes with too many legs—jittered across the floor and ripped Lars from my grip. They streaked off and ran up the walls like spiders, as if gravity had no hold on them, and hauled Lars off into the darkness above.

“Oh man,” I said, shuddering, my skin pimpling all at once. “That was decidedly unsettling.”

The beads stopped strobing all at once, and the trunk went completely dark.

When the beads flicked back on, the Symphonist stood in the center of the room, her long arms slack at her sides.

“You have done well to bring him here,” she said. “Very well. He is raw, but his skills are remarkable. Fair Folk or not, I will make good use of him.” She tapped her chin with a thin, brown finger. It looked like exposed bone. “I rather like the poetry of it, honestly.

A proud people wounded by one of their own kind. How fitting. In the meantime, perhaps you can make use of this.”

You may select 1 of the following rewards:

{Sonorous Flute} (Two-handed Instrument)

Grade: E

Item Level: 5

Quality: Rare

Damage Type: Blunt

Physical Attack: 2

Magical Attack: 21

Speed: Very slow

Primaries: +4 Charisma

Secondaries: +2% Chance to Hit

{The Innkeeper's Memento}

Grade: E

Item Level: 10

Slot: Finger

Quality: Rare

Magical Resistance: +20%

Use: Attracts a Unique Innkeeper to staff a player-owned inn, upgrading it by 1 tier.

Charges: 1

{Spellsong Breeches}

Grade: E

Item Level: 7

Slot: Legs

Type: Cloth

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +3 Intelligence, +3 Constitution, +2 Wisdom

Armor: +2%

“Oh yeah!” I said as I scrolled through the rewards. I still wasn't thrilled about losing Lars as a group member, but those rewards definitely took the edge off. “Assuming I can't equip the flute with my current class?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Most Hidden Quests have a similar reward structure: a couple pieces that are available to everyone, plus one that's tailored to your class.”

“Awesome.”

“I'd go with the flute,” Frank said.

“You'd what?”

“You heard me. Flute. Take the flute, fairy boy.”

“Why would I want a flute I can't equip?”

“'Cause you could whack people with it,” Frank said. “Can't whack people with a pair of pants. I mean, you could try, and that'd probably be hilarious, but—”

“I'm not picking the flute, Frank. You literally just said I can't equip it. Hey, do you have any info on what an inn actually does? How much they cost to build or run, that sort of thing?”

“I can't reveal any of that until you've unlocked the Player Housing system,” Frank said. “So, level 5.”

I shrugged. “What about the unique innkeeper thing?”

“Nope,” Frank said. “That's part of the Housing system.”

“Damn. Of course it is.”

Obviously the flute was indeed out as a choice, but I was torn between the other two options.

The pants were exactly what I needed in the short term—the Constitution bonus alone represented a huge increase to my Health pool—but the Innkeeper's Memento might be the better long-term play.

The question was, what did a player-owned inn actually do? And how could I build one? And could I build one in a reasonable amount of time? And where would I get the land? And would it make me money? There were actually a lot of questions.

That said, I'd played more than my fair share of games with base building elements, and it was almost a universal truth that the earlier you got started on that sort of stuff, the better. Particularly in an M.M.O where the competition for land and property was likely to be fierce.

And if the inn was a way to make money, then it would help me out no matter how I pursued Renown in the future. It wasn't like you could raise an army without paying for it first. Nor set out to circumnavigate the globe without buying a ship and hiring a crew.

And raising capital in the early game was always one of the biggest challenges. If I could use an inn or something similar to springboard me into a position I could trade or invest from in the early days of E.B.O, I'd probably be in great shape for the long-term.

It also synergized well with my Renown buff. I would already be able to get supplies cheaper than any competitors. Sure, it wasn't much, but even the slightest margin helped.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “What do you think, Frank? Forget the flute. That's ridiculous, and we're not doing that. But what do you really, honestly think?”

Frank hesitated. “Well. You already have pants.”

I pursed my lips, then looked down at him. “That is…a surprisingly compelling argument.”

Granted, my current pants didn't have any stats, so the comparison was kind of moot. But Frank wasn't completely, obviously wrong—nor did it seem like he was trying to spite me with stupid, useless opinions—which seemed like a big moment for him.

“And there are quests that require a certain Item Level before they become available,” Frank said. “Ring has the edge there.”

“Oh my God, you said two helpful things in a row! Way to go, Frank. Welcome to the party.”

“This party sucks,” Frank said. “I wanna go home.”

“And we're back to the status quo. Well, that was a nice moment while it lasted. Thanks though, that was helpful. I had no idea that Item Level was that useful.”

“Whatever,” Frank said. “I do have a bit more information on Renown, too. If you want it.”

“Absolutely!” I said.

“No entries or any of that, but you need to start thinking of a general strategy,” Frank said. “Like the ways people have changed the world in the past. Warfare, exploration, trade, religion. There's a ton of flexibility in how you gain Renown, but those are the big, overarching categories.”

I mulled that over. Those four categories sounded a lot like the win conditions I'd seen in turn-based strategy games—where you'd build an empire with a top-down view and try to lead your people to victory through the ages—which were some of my favorite time sinks.

And now that Frank had clarified Renown by putting it into those familiar terms, my plan of attack was becoming increasingly clear.

In the past, my usual go-to strategy for those types of games was to go the jack-of-all-trades route in the early game. I'd maximize my flexibility by building up an economy as soon as possible, then once I'd scouted out my enemies, I'd leverage my wealth to pivot toward whatever victory condition seemed most attainable.

And while those principles were in no way a perfect match for a V.R.M.M.O, given that I had no idea what the endgame of E.B.O would look like—or even the midgame for that matter—pursuing flexibility seemed like a solid choice.

“Nice,” I said. “By the way, I'm deliberately not thanking you for that last bit of information as a show of good faith.”

“Your lack of vocalized gratitude pleases me,” Frank said. “So, what's it gonna be?”

I clicked my tongue. “I'm going with the ring. Those pants would be great, but at the rate we're leveling, they'll be obsolete in a day or two. The ring could be useful in the short term if we build an inn early on, or we could save it and use it to jump an established inn up a higher tier later down the road.

“Going after wealth in general seems a lot more flexible where Renown is concerned, too. If we decide to go the war route somewhere down the line, we can buy better items or maybe even equip an army. Or we could buy ships if we decide exploration is a better fit, that sort of thing.”

“A reasonable, yet bloodless choice,” Frank said.

“Glad you agree.”

“To be clear, that is the worst kind of choice to make,” Frank said.

I confirmed my selection and completed the quest, earning a nod from the Symphonist.

Congratulations, you completed a Hidden Quest!

You gained 700 Experience!

You gained 50 Renown!

You received {The Innkeeper's Memento}!

World-first Alert!

{Ned}, (The First Citizen) has become the first Player to complete a Hidden Quest!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to complete a Hidden Quest!

Awarding Title: {Seeker Supreme}!

{Seeker Supreme} (Rare Title)

All Rare drop rates permanently increased by 1%.

I wavered there for a moment, staring open-mouthed at the prompts that had just streamed in. “Okay. This was totally worth it. Look at all that Renown!”

I spawned the ring into the palm of my hand. The metal was black and smooth—curiously cold to the touch—and capped with a purple gem that was so dark it was almost black. I squinted down at it. “Hey, wait a second. Wasn't this ring a part of the necklace Lars wore on that chain around his neck? The one his mother gave him?”

“Sure is,” Frank said. “Good pick up. Wasn't allowed to mention that myself.”

“Huh. Well—”

“I believe we have other business to attend to,” the Symphonist said. “The Gardener sent you, yes?”

“He did,” I said.

The Symphonist dropped into a crouch and pulled her knobby knees to her chest. “I figured as much. Even the sound of his name brings me back. Oh, how I miss the Underworld Tree. The caverns, the fruit, the feel of its shade against my skin.”

You completed a quest!

You earned 100 Experience!

You earned 10 Renown!

The Symphonist sighed. “Well, if he sent you here, then he's finally found the stomach for what we should have done years ago,” she said. “Better late than never, I suppose. My sources beneath the World Tree tell me the Fair Folk are about to begin their monthly ritual. I want to strike at their very spirit, Mystic. I want to puncture the aura of invincibility the Fair Folk carry. I want them to fear us, well before this war of theirs starts in earnest.”

The Symphonist pulled a thin rod of metal off the nearby wall. It was silvery and sharp at one end, a spike that reminded me of the wind chimes that hung from her tree. “Carve your way through the Fair Folk lines and push deep beneath the shade of the World Tree. There, you'll find a graveyard where the Fair Folk are readying their dead and preparing their melodies for the sendoff.”

She tapped a black fingernail against the spike, which vibrated like a tuning fork. “Drive five of these rods around the graveyard, and my music will take it from there.”

New Quest: A Song for the Departed!

Objective: Find a way through the Fair Folk front lines, then place 5 {Tuning Spikes} around the Fair Folk graveyard beneath the World Tree (Phase 1).

Bonus Objective: Kill 10 Fair Folk of any kind before you place the 5th {Tuning Spike}.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell.

Bonus Reward: Experience, Renown, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell.

I nodded, generating another prompt informing me that I'd received the spikes I needed.

“Excellent,” the Symphonist said as she rose to her full height. The beads were dimming, the Symphonist's figure fading from view as she melted back into the dark. She splayed a hand toward me, palm out. “I will meet you beneath the World Tree. Be gone.”

A wave of sonic energy howled out of her palm and struck me head-on, blasting me backward and into the air, sending me careening through the doorway I'd entered through and tumbling out onto the dirt.

“Ugh,” I said, as I climbed to my feet and brushed the grit from my robes. “That was wildly unnecessary.” At least the attack hadn't done any actual damage.

“I enjoyed it immensely,” Frank said. “Whoooosh, splat, thump, thump, thump. Shame it didn't hurt, though. I would've preferred having you be subjected to physical pain.”

“Nothing really hurts here, Frank. It's a game.”

“You're a game.”

“Good talk.” I opened up my mini map and saw that an area a little way to the north had been highlighted, so I broke into a jog and left the Symphonist's tree behind.

Then a line of pink text popped into the bottom-left corner of my screen.

{House}(P.M): Hello, sir. I have completed my upload to the Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Game known as Earthblood Online. The program is requesting I create a humanoid avatar to interact further. I am currently waiting for instructions as to how to proceed.

“Oh, House is here!” I said. I sent her a quick reply:

{Ned}(P.M): hey house, glad to have you back. lemme check with frank and i'll get back to you in a sec

{House}(P.M): Understood, sir.

“Hey Frank,” I said as I kept running along, “we should talk about House. She's at the character creation screen.”

“Wow, my dad actually said yes?” Frank said. “Wow. Wow, wow, wow. He's so awesome and generous and kind and smart and—”

“Uh huh, cool. So back to the strategizing part. Can you help me pick a race and class for her?

“What do you wanna know?” Frank said.

“Good question. I guess for the class, I'd like something I can duo with? Either a healer or a tank, maybe? I guess with how low my Health is, a tank might be more useful?”

“Doable,” Frank said.

“Race is a bit harder, probably need to narrow that down a bit. Hey, Kline said I was leveling super slow. Are some starter areas faster than others?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Woodbone's one of the slowest, if not the slowest.”

I sighed. “And you didn't want to mention that when I picked it?”

“Couldn't at the time,” Frank said. “Plus you didn't ask. And the Woodbone area might be slow as far as Experience is concerned, but it's amazing for Renown. Can't have both.”

“Alright, fair enough. Well, having House meet up with us as soon as possible is an obvious priority, so maybe we start by eliminating races from the slower starter areas?”

“Done,” Frank said. “Got twelve choices left that will all level at a quick pace.”

“Great. Can you take that pool and cut it down to the races that also have access to a tanky starting class? Preferably with some kind of heal, or at least decent sustain.”

“That's a bit harder, but I've got three main choices for you,” Frank said. “First up is the Starlit Dryad. If she picked that race, she'll roll a Lightblade, which is a powerful melee class with decent heals. They're super dependent on Mana and probably aren't as tanky as you were thinking, though.”

“Kind of like a Paladin but with lighter armor?”

“Exactly,” Frank said. “Next up is the Marbleskin Golem race. They're pretty weak when it comes to combat, but they get two additional profession slots. If she went the Golem route, she'd be a Shielddancer, who have high Health and tons of defense but not much in the way of healing or damage.”

“That could work,” I said.

“And lastly, we've got the Redeye Orc. If she picked that race, she'd go Soulchant Shaman, a melee class that converts part of the damage they deal to heal nearby allies. Still only leather armor, but it might be the closest combination to what you're looking for.”

“Ohh. That does sound cool, but the Golem one is giving me second thoughts about what kind of company I actually need.”

While House might turn out to be a useful duoing partner down the road, her real worth was that she was totally, utterly trustworthy. And if we went the Golem route, I'd basically have access to six professions rather than two.

That addressed one of my big concerns going forward. I had no idea how self-sufficient I was going to need to be once the other players joined the game world.

And if I was even half as despised as Kline claimed I was, there was a very real possibility I'd be hard pressed to find anyone to trade with. Or group with. Or quest with. Or do anything at all with, basically.

In an M.M.O that was specifically designed around the idea of large groups of people progressing toward shared goals.

That last thought triggered a pang of anxiety. The Head Start period was almost halfway over, and while we'd laid some solid groundwork, we hadn't really accomplished anything on the scale of what a large guild could pull off in a couple of hours.

I did still have those forty-eight Head Start slots, though, and I was starting to wonder if it might be worth releasing a few of them before the game went live to try to buy some friends. Or at the very least, create some quasi-neutral parties that didn't completely hate my guts.

“What are you doing?” Frank said.

“Huh?” I said, looking down at him.

“You were just staring off into space.”

“Thinking, Frank. I was thinking.”

“I don't like it when you do that. It's boring for me.”

“Alright. I'm gonna have House go the Golem route.”

I sent House a quick series of messages, advising her on the choices I'd made and the rationale behind my decisions. I also asked her to level as quickly as possible, with an eye toward leaving her starter zone whenever that became possible.

“Alright, done,” I said. “Let's get back to questing.”

I ran on for quite a while, smelling smoke on the breeze the entire way. I could make out small campfires between some of the more distant trees, where Woodbone hunters were skinning and occasionally tanning today's kills.

The forest thinned as I approached some kind of settlement. Apparently, the Woodbone were logging the trees, toppling the pines left and right as if to make more room for expansion.

They'd set up a vast camp on the shoreline of a river that was hundreds of yards wide, and tents and other temporary structures blanketed the curving shoreline for nearly a half-mile in both directions.

But the river itself was what really caught my attention. Its waters were thick and red, the current oozing and bubbling over the rocks that stood in its way.

The trees beyond the stream were strange as well. There the trunks were jet-black, but the leaves were a mixture of oranges and reds and purples, and if you glanced at the canopies as a single entity, they looked a little bit like a sunset.

I'd missed it at first owing to the distance and the jarringly colored trees, but the Fair Folk appeared to have a camp of their own on the opposite bank, and it seemed far more advanced than its Fae counterpart. Their structures were made of white stone, many of them wreathed in deep green ivy.

“Congrats, you're finally getting toward the end of the starter zone,” Frank said. “Growing up before my very eyes. Oh, I'm so proud. Except not really. You are a tremendous disappointment.”

“So, is this the Woodbone war front?” I said, ignoring Frank completely.

“Sure is,” Frank said.

I joined a line of wagons rolling into the Woodbone camp, which reeked of sweat and refuse in a way that was utterly realistic, but also horrible. Which made sense because the area was rife with latrines and waste pits, and the air was thick with flies.

The Fae seemed to be in decent spirits as a whole, but none of them were more than an arm's reach from their weapon of choice, and many watched the Fair Folk front with wary eyes.

I spotted what looked like a stone bridge up ahead, so I made my way toward it, shouldering my way through the crowd. But when I arrived, I found the structure in ruins, entire sections having given out and fallen into the river.

I blew out a puff of air. “Well, guess we aren't simply waltzing into the front lines. Thought a bridge seemed a little unlikely.” I looked up and down the river, but there weren't any other bridges to speak of. And even more concerning was the density of Fair Folk on the other side.

There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, some cooking while others tended to weapons, while others looked to be playing some kind of game to pass the time. And the vast majority of them sat or stood so close together that pulling one of them at a time would be impossible even if I did find a way to cross.

A bout of laughter reached me then, and I turned to find a crowd of Fae ringed up around a raised stage where three Fair Folk men were suspended within a trio of red, crystalline prisms, diamond-shaped constructs whose thin, interior spikes were similar to that of an iron maiden.

Each of the three prisms rested upon a square glass urn, all of which looked removable and were gradually filling with blood.

“The hell is going on here?” I said.

“Draining,” Frank said. “Capital D.”

“You got an entry on that?”

“Sure do.”

Codex Entry 290: Draining

The process of extracting the blood from a Fair Folk captive, which is then used to nourish the roots of the Underworld Tree. Some captives are simply left to die within their prisms, while others are drained and allowed to recover repeatedly so their blood can be harvested in perpetuity.

Though Draining was once considered an unthinkable evil by the Woodbone Fae, the process has now become so commonplace that it has entirely replaced the Blood for Song trading system that once bound the two symbiotic kingdoms together.

My stomach did a little flip. “Oh. So, we imprison people and harvest their blood, huh? That's uh…not a great look. Shoot me the entry on that latter term?”

“Sure.”

Codex Entry 291: Blood for Song

An ancient trade pact struck between the Fair Folk and the Woodbone Fae where, once a month, the two peoples would meet at the Red River Bridge and trade what they had for what they lacked.

The Woodbone Fae would gather the bones of their dead and exchange them for Fair Folk blood, without whose nourishment the Underworld Tree would wither and die.

Likewise, the Fair Folk would gather the blood from their dead and exchange it for Fae bones, which were then repurposed into instruments, as the World Tree feeds on music rather than blood.

I frowned at the prompts. “So they use music to grow their tree, and we use blood.”

“Yup,” Frank said.

I scratched the back of my head. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I could have sworn that The Gardener claimed we needed the bones for the Underworld Tree.”

“That he did,” Frank said.

I squinted down at him. “So…he was lying? We don't really need the bones at all? I mean, I get that people would want to hold onto their relatives' remains and graverobbing is pretty messed up in general, but these entries are telling a wildly different story than the one I was fed back in the caves.”

“Welcome to the party, Ned,” Frank said. “Took you long enough.”

Chapter Fifteen

I wandered through the Woodbone camp for a while, asking if anybody knew a way across the river but getting nowhere. “Any suggestions here, Frank?”

“Swim,” Frank said.

I shook my head. “You really wanna see me drown that badly, huh?”

“I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon,” Frank said. “Also, the Woodbone poisoned the river to defend themselves, and it will kill you.”

“Lovely,” I said. I pulled up my mini map, hoping for some clarification on where to go, but the entirety of the Woodbone camp was highlighted. “There has to be a quest trigger here somewhere,” I said. “Maybe even a couple of them judging by how big this place is.”

I wandered through the many rows of tents, growing increasingly anxious as the minutes ticked by. I ducked through a particularly smoky section of the camp where much of the food was being cooked and found something like a market on the other side, an open air line of wooden stalls with a merchant in each.

I scanned through their names and titles, then made a beeline for the cloth armor merchant.

I nodded at the shopkeeper as I approached, a thin woman dressed in spotless, sky blue robes. “Hey there. What do you have on offer?”

The woman grinned, and a trade window popped up.

I queried her items, doing my best to keep a straight face despite my building excitement.

{Opalescent Leggings of the Mountain}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Legs

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Strength, +2 Constitution

Armor: +3%

{Opalescent Belt of the Tsunami}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Waist

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +1 Intelligence, +1 Wisdom

Armor: +2%

{Opalescent Gloves of Dexterity}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Hands

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Dexterity

Armor: +2%

“Only got one of each,” the vendor said. “Should be getting more in tomorrow, though.”

“How much if I take all three?” I said.

The woman looked me up and down, and I couldn't help but feel like she was trying to guess what I could afford. “Sixty coppers.”

I winced, because that was more money than I currently had. And if this vendor had Uncommons for sale, then the others probably did as well.

Her current pieces weren't great items by any means, either—the stat allocations were all kinds of wonky, especially those cloth pants with Strength—but any item was better than an empty slot, and I could use every stat point I could get.

I gave the merchant what I hoped was a disappointed smile. “I'm interested, but that's a bit steep for me. I'll come back if I can find the coin.”

“Fine, fifty for the set,” the merchant said, countering in the space of a few seconds. Eager to sell, then.

I hesitated as if I were considering it. Fifty was tempting, but I thought I could get her lower and needed to have a look around before I committed to buying anything. “I'll think about it.”

The merchant sighed, but eventually nodded.

I did a quick run through of the market, which had a merchant for every armor type, though the heavier pieces weren't of any interest to me. There was a weapons vendor as well, but the only staff he had was significantly weaker than the one I currently used.

The jewelry vendor—a particularly dark-skinned Fae with several gold hoops hanging from his ears—had some good stuff, though all but two pieces were virtually useless for my build.

{Opalescent Ring of Constitution}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Finger

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Constitution

Magical Resistance: +6%

{Opalescent Necklace of the Hurricane}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Neck

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +1 Intelligence, +1 Dexterity

Magical Resistance: +10%

I pointed to the necklace and the earring, which were displayed on a plush velvet tray.

“Twenty coppers each,” the vendor said. He fingered one of his golden hoops. “Or both for thirty.”

“Mmm,” I said. I opened my inventory and scanned through it. I had a couple of pieces of junk I'd looted off random mobs, those leather boots I'd found earlier and…the Flute of the Woodbone King.

I wasn't inclined to part with the Uncommon boots at a vendor, let alone the Epic flute the Marrowsong Matriarch had dropped. I still had no idea what kind of use the Epic item might have, but I wasn't about to give up on it so quickly. I did have some Weak Soul Gems, though, and those seemed like fair game.

I pulled one of those out and popped it into the palm of my hand. “What would you give me for one of these?”

The vendor gave the gem an approving look. “I could do ten for that.”

I inclined my head. That seemed pretty good, actually. Then I had an idea. Why not level my profession and flip the result into copper? “What if I were to turn this gem into a Siphonshot for you?”

The vendor pursed his lips. “Then I'd only be able to give you four, maybe five.”

I blinked at him. “Really? It'd be worth less?”

“You give me a gem, and it can be turned into anything,” he said. “You give me a Siphonshot, and the market shrinks considerably.”

“I just would have thought the skill would be worth something,” I said, prodding for more info.

“I'm afraid Soul Alchemists are a dime a dozen among the Woodbone,” he said. He tapped my soul gem with a ringed finger. “Now, if you were a Soul Machinist offering to work this gem, I'd be throwing a couple pieces of silver at you. But I haven't seen one of them in a long, long time.”

“Interesting,” I said. I dropped my voice and spoke down to Frank. “So, is this a scarcity thing? Wait, lemme guess. Soul Alchemist requires a dark-aligned race, which Woodbone qualifies for so there are a lot of them around. And they probably can't become Soul Machinists? Also, what is that?”

“Nailed it,” Frank said. “Which I find incredibly annoying. Here.”

{Soul Machinist}

An engineer who utilizes the souls of the fallen to power marvelous contraptions.

Race Restriction: Neutral.

“Nice,” I said. “I guess soul gems are a bit more useful than I thought.” I caught the vendor's eyes. “Would you do fifteen on the gems?”

“Best I can do is twelve,” he said. “And only if you purchase something.”

“Alright, how about this,” I said. “I give you three Weak Soul Gems for those two items, and you give me ten coppers back.”

His shoulders slumped. “Fine. You're lucky, you know,” he said as a trade window popped up with his side of the deal already configured. “We haven't had many buyers to speak of the last couple days. Seems like the only people around are those who are already living in the camps. And most of them can barely afford food, let alone jewelry.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said. I dropped my gems into the window and confirmed the trade.

You received {Opalescent Ring of Constitution}!

You received {Opalescent Necklace of the Hurricane}!

I threw both of those items on immediately, feeling particularly grateful for the Constitution boost. “So it's been quiet, eh?”

“Worst stretch in years,” the vendor said, shrugging. “It's always been bad around the front unless you're dealing in weapons, but lately, it's been worse. So much worse.”

I thanked him and headed back toward the cloth vendor, satisfied I hadn't missed anything. “Frank?” I said.

“Uh huh?”

“Was he referring to the lack of players when he said business was bad?”

“Yup.”

“So he was more willing to cut a deal 'cause all he had were poor N.P.C's to trade with. I wonder if I could leverage that somehow further down the line. It's really starting to feel like I should stop thinking about this place as a game. I'm so used to dealing with vendors with set prices and menus and all that. It's refreshing.”

The cloth vendor brightened as I approached, so much so that I felt a little bad for her. On second glance, she did look a little skinny, and the robes she wore were far more worn than the products she was trying to sell.

I dropped my eyes to my feet and did my best to look defeated. “Turns out there's not much work for a Soul Alchemist in these parts. Had my hopes up, but I doubt I can afford all three of your items.”

“What do you have on you?” the woman said.

I pulled up my inventory. After that last trade, I had sixty-two coppers in all, and two spare Weak Soul Gems. But I wasn't about to tell her that. “I've got maybe thirty I could spare. I still need to buy some food myself. Haven't had a good meal in a long time.”

“I hear that,” the woman said. “I can't go that low, but I'd happily trade you two of the three for thirty coppers.”

That really wasn't much of a deal, given that she'd already offered all three pieces for fifty. “What about Soul Gems?” I said. “Would you do fifteen on one of those?”

“I'd do thirteen,” she said. “How about the gem plus thirty for the lot?”

“Could you do the gem plus twenty-seven?” I said.

She seemed to consider it for a moment but shook her head. “The gem plus twenty-nine. I'm sorry, but that's the absolute best I can do. I need to eat, too.”

“Done,” I said. Another window popped up with the terms in place, and I quickly hit confirm.

You received {Opalescent Gloves of Dexterity}!

You received {Opalescent Belt of the Tsunami}!

You received {Opalescent Leggings of the Mountain}!

Awarding Title: {The Thrifty}!

“Wait, what?” I said.

{The Thrifty} (Rare Title)

+3% Charisma when bargaining with N.P.C's.

“Appreciate it,” the woman said.

“Yeah,” I said, still staring at the title. “Thank you.”

I equipped the gear she'd given me. The gloves were black and fingerless, the belt made of cracked brown leather. The pants were particularly nice, though, gray and cottony, far more comfortable than the statless pair I'd started with.

I was absolutely thrilled with my latest haul: five pieces of brand-new gear, plus I'd managed to keep thirty-three coppers in hand. The loss of the gems stung a bit, but I could always grind up more. And if they were selling for ten plus a pop, I should probably spend more time grinding in general.

The title, though…that was a gamechanger. I knelt beside the merchant's booth as if I were inspecting the pants I'd purchased and spoke down to Frank. “What's the deal with that title? How'd I trigger that?”

“It's kind of like an achievement system,” Frank said. “I won't ever be able to point you to them ahead of time, but you got that one because you bargained that merchant down to the lowest rate she was willing to take. And now that you've got a Charisma boost, your bargaining will be more effective in the future.”

“Awesome,” I said. “I wonder if that would have been possible without those vendor price discounts I picked up.”

“It would not,” Frank said. “Not unless you picked up a couple extra points of Charisma somewhere first.”

“Very cool. Speaking of Charisma, that makes me think I need to get my hands on a Charisma set. Would be nice to have a full load out for this kind of thing. And damn does it feel good to be making deals in a game instead of a boardroom.”

“Why?” Frank said. “Is it different?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “If this were real life, I'd feel like crap knowing I'd just screwed her over. A lot of people say that the mark of a good compromise is that both parties leave the table slightly unhappy with the result, but that was not the view my father had. He would walk away if it wasn't painfully obvious he'd won, and he had so much power and influence that people couldn't afford to say no.”

“Sounds like good business,” Frank said.

“Can't argue with his results,” I said, “but it wasn't the results I had a problem with. She told me she was hungry, and I knew she was desperate so I took her for everything I could, the lowest price she'd take. In the real world that would have made me feel guilty, but here? At the end of the day, she's just an N.P.C, so instead that transaction just felt optimal.” I hesitated. That wasn't quite right. “Well, N.P.C or not, taking advantage of her definitely made me feel a little grimy, but not as much as it would have back in reality.”

“Oh, thank God,” Frank said. “I really thought you were gonna go full-mush about how random N.P.C's should be treated there for a moment. You never go full-mush. Half-mush, fine. But never full.”

I winked at him. “Not here, Frank. Not here.”

“Don't wink at me,” Frank said. “Your elfbrows are creeping me out.”

“Cool, I'll wink way more often in the future.”

“Bah,” Frank said.

I shrugged. “That's what you get for not having a filter.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions,” Frank said.

I snorted and started laughing in earnest, which was apparently loud enough to draw the merchant's attention.

She put both hands on her booth and leaned down over it. “Anything else I can do for you?”

I looked left, right, left, then stood up and leaned in close. “Say someone needed to get across that river. You got any idea how they might go about that?”

The vendor pursed her lips. “Sure. But ideas are valuable things. And I know you've got an extra copper to spare.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I popped a copper between two fingers and slid it across the table, just to see if I could trade that way instead of using windows. And it actually worked!

The merchant pocketed the coin and leaned in, propping herself up on her elbows. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume, a sweet scent with hints of orange. “You need a middleman,” she said. She made an ugly face, like she'd just tasted something sour. “Eh, actually, man is the wrong word. But I suggest you follow the river upstream while brushing up on your nonverbal communication.”

“My nonverbal communication?”

“Yep. And don't make any sudden moves. Fairies tend to stab first and ask questions later.”

“My kind of people,” Frank said.

“What was that?” the merchant said.

“Nothing,” I said. “Thanks for the help and the gear. I really do appreciate it.”

She dropped her eyes to her empty booth. “Yeah. Something's better than nothing, I suppose.”

I sighed. As it turned out, that last transaction had left me feeling far more than a little grimy. So, I reached into my inventory, grabbed four of my remaining mushrooms and set them onto the counter. “Here, consider this a tip. A full day's work shouldn't leave anybody hungry.”

The merchant's eyes welled up. She rubbed them, cleared her throat, then scooped the food off the counter. “Thank you.”

I nodded and started working my way through the bustling camp, eventually joining a stream of people who were heading in the right direction.

“Softy,” Frank scoffed.

“What?”

“That transaction just felt optimal,” Frank said, mimicking my voice. “I didn't feel bad at all. I am a ruthless trader. Here, take these valuable items for free N.P.C I met nine seconds ago, you clearly need them more than I do.”

I couldn't help but grin at that. “Food's dirt cheap, and I'm barely using what I have. Parting with a couple pieces won't hurt me, and N.P.C or not, these people are real enough to suffer. I'm not going to bend over backward to help them out, but if it doesn't cost me anything, why not toss them a bone?”

“Spoken like a six-foot pile of mush,” Frank said.

“Whatever. You know I'm right.”

“I know nothing,” Frank said. I felt him narrow his eyes in that weird, vague way he had. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure, Frank. Sure.”

I left the camp behind a few minutes later, but its stench lingered on my clothing as I followed the red river upstream. “We need to figure something out for this whole you-talking-to-N.P.C's-that-can-hear thing,” I said.

“Or we could not do that,” Frank said. “And I could just continue to speak my mind without being shackled by your authoritarian impulses.”

“Nice, Frank. But look, it'd be one thing if they just rolled with it, like oh, hey look, it's our good friend Frank the talking axe. But—”

“You could just do that, you know,” Frank said. “Magic is a thing here. If you say you have a magic axe, they'll just be like oh, a magic axe, that's so awesome, I wish I was a magic axe named Frank who was hilarious and also wise.”

“You had me at the beginning,” I said. “Not gonna lie. But even if they do just take you at face value, we'd still be spreading information. If these N.P.C's are as advanced as they seem, we need to start thinking about the interactions they're going to have with the players who come through here after we're gone.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That you help me keep a low profile,” I said. “We've got about a day and a half before our in-game existence becomes public knowledge and the whole world starts gunning for us. Let's not make it easy on the people trying to hunt us down by leaving behind a trail of N.P.C's that can point people in the direction of the guy with the sassy battle axe.”

“I resent that,” Frank said.

“What? Being called sassy? You're sassy, Frank.”

“Oh, I know it. I was referring to the battle axe part. I'm a bearded axe, Ned. Nuance matters.”

I sighed. “Fine. The guy with the sassy bearded axe.”

“Much better,” Frank said. “Also, I'll talk when I wanna. And my beard is marvelous.”

“Then I'll start sheathing you more often.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“I will definitely do that. Just try to keep it down a little better, okay? You've been doing pretty good overall, but still. Please?”

Frank grunted. “Ugh, breaking out the big guns with the P word. Fine, I'll try to keep it down. Unless it's important.”

“Deal.”

“Or if I have something super funny to say.”

“Alright, that's fair.”

“Or if I get bored.”

I yanked Frank out of his loop and slid him halfway into his sheath.

“Aw man, c'mon, I was kidding.”

I winked at him, then jammed him back into his loop.

“I hate my life,” Frank said.

“No you don't. We both know you've been enjoying yourself as much as I have.”

“False,” Frank said. Then he hesitated. “But I will admit I've enjoyed a minuscule part of our time together. So, let me rephrase. I hate a small part of my life. Meaning you.”

“I'll take it,” I said.

I sent House a quick message as we walked along the riverbank, wanting to check on her progress, and she instantaneously responded that she was already level 2. Which seemed…pretty fast. But still, she had a ways to go.

A blur of yellow moved through the tree line up ahead, though it disappeared before I could identify the source. I caught another blip a few minutes later, then a third from a bit behind me, which confirmed a budding suspicion. I was being followed.

“Hey Frank?” I said. “What are the odds that that N.P.C I just bought this armor from sent me out here to get robbed? Or possibly murdered?”

“Dunno, maybe a coin flip?”

I grimaced but didn't want to turn back. Whoever—or whatever—it was shadowing me already had me surrounded. “Any idea what those flashes of yellow are?”

“Nameplates,” Frank said.

“Thought so. That means they're neutral, though, right?”

“Neutral's a strong word,” Frank said. “I'd say they're more—”

He cut off as four small, humanoid figures charged out of the tree line, spears in hand, rushing me in a phalanx formation. I inspected the lead creature, which looked familiar.

{Bone Collector} (Level 5 Merchant Fairy)

H.P: 350/350

Yup, the same fairylike creatures I'd seen graverobbing earlier but substantially higher level. I put my hands up, palms out.

“Coward,” Frank said.

“There are four of them,” I said under my breath. “I can't kill four mobs at once.”

“But you could die trying,” Frank said. “Like a real man.”

“You truly do give terrible advice, Frank.”

The creatures split around me, jabbing at the air between us with their spears. I stayed completely still, the merchant's words running through my head: no sudden movements, because stabbing.

After a few tense moments, the creatures lowered their spears and chittered amongst each other. I cleared my throat, and all four creatures quieted at once, their heads swiveling toward me. I pointed to myself, then pointed across the river.

The creatures shared a glance—all four of them—then the one directly in front of me rubbed its thumb and index finger together.

“Now we're talking,” I said. I summoned five copper coins and held them out.

The lead creature plucked them out of my hands and pocketed them. Then it turned and bolted, laughing as it ran for the trees.

“Seriously?” I said. “Did I just get robbed by a mob?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “You definitely did.”

I sighed, pointed to myself, then across the river again.

And another of the creatures repeated the same money-grubbing gesture.

I popped five more coins into my hand but kept them at a safe distance from the lead mob.

It peered up at my palm, then shook its head.

I added a few more coins but got the same result. More coins, more head shaking. And when the mob said no to all twenty-seven of my remaining coins, I started thinking I may have made a mistake spending so much on gear. Still had that flute if it came to that, but I really didn't want to part with it. Not unless I absolutely had to.

But I did have an idea. I summoned the Lesser Soul Gem I'd found and held it out but dropped it back into my inventory as one of the fairies leaped forward and tried to snatch it away.

I pointed across the river again, and the creatures resumed their chittering, all three of them growing increasingly agitated as some kind of argument broke out.

Eventually, one of the creatures gave a sharp, barking laugh and waved me forward. The other two fell in beside me, spears at the ready. They led me deep into the trees, and though the growth was so thick I couldn't see the river, I could still hear it gurgling off in the distance.

The lead creature ran forward, rushing headlong at an especially thick pine. I winced preemptively as he was about to collide with it, but he passed through it as if it were made of water, the entire pine rippling and undulating in his wake.

One of my escorts jogged ahead through the tree, and the other motioned me forward with its spear.

I reached a hand out, still expecting my fingertips to brush up against the rough bark despite everything I'd seen. And when they passed effortlessly through the tree as if it were empty space, I stumbled forward and half-walked, half-fell right through it.

My mini map pinged immediately. I still couldn't see much, but apparently I'd discovered an area called The Corpse Market. I moved through a few feet of cold, misty air, then the world slammed back into place, the stench of decay hitting me like a warm breeze.

A filthy little riverbank village lay in front of me, jam-packed full of clay huts with hundreds of Merchant Fairies scampering between them. A number of short docks lined the river, and a few flat-bottomed boats bobbed along in the thick, strange current.

“So that was an illusion, huh?” I said.

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Seems useful.”

“Meh,” Frank said.

Then I noticed the bodies. At least two dozen of them in all, set in neat rows just a few feet in front of the docks.

My escort chittered at me and led me forward, straight for the river. And as we approached, I realized the bodies had been sorted: one row for Woodbone, and one for Fair Folk.

Many of the creatures shuffled the corpses about, dragging the Fair Folk off deeper into the camp to who-knew-where while the Woodbone were loaded into the docks.

One of the loaders looked our way, a hungry expression on its face. It spoke with my lead spearmen, then gestured me into the boat. The bottom of which was full of bodies.

“You can't be serious,” I said.

“Pretty sure it's serious,” Frank said. “In you go.”

“But they're dead.”

“And also not real,” Frank said.

I blinked. That was a pretty good point. But they looked dead. And they certainly smelled dead. And I had very little doubt they would feel dead, too.

“Think of the quest,” Frank said. “We both know you've done worse to fulfill a quest in the past.”

“Truth.” I tried to climb down into the boat, but one of the fairies grabbed my wrist. He made that same payment gesture, so I pointed at the other side of the river and shook my head.

The creature made a sour face and haggled with the loader a bit, the two of them eventually coming to some kind of agreement that ended in my escorts getting paid in copper coins. They headed off at once, hooting and hollering down the dock. The ferryman had me lay down in the boat between two dead Woodbone Fae, a man and a woman whose waxy, cold skin pressed against mine.

The ferryman untied the boat and grabbed a long wooden stick with a hook on one end. He thrust the hook into the air and seemed to catch it on something invisible. He lay down on one side of the boat and braced his legs against a small platform, holding onto the stick with everything he had.

The boat lurched sideways and away from the dock, in spite of the current. It seemed like he was pulling us across some sort of invisible cable.

It only took a couple of minutes for us to get halfway across the river. And also for everything to go to shit.

Two level 9 Fair Folk stood on the far bank, obviously waiting for us. “Seems like I picked the wrong way to cross,” I said.

“That is seeming increasingly likely,” Frank said.

The ferryman kicked me on the top of the head and extended his hand for payment.

I was about to pop the Lesser Soul Gem into my hand but thought better of it at the last moment. This guy hadn't seen the original gem. Instead, I produced one of my Weak Soul Gems and handed it over.

The ferryman shoved it into a pocket without looking at it.

“Any suggestions?” I said.

“Beat the whole group to a bloody pulp with your bare hands,” Frank murmured.

“So, suicide, basically.”

“No, blaze of glory,” Frank said. “Totally different.”

Dying again wouldn't be the end of the world—I'd already lost access to those questlines Frank had been talking about—but the prospect of a rapidly increasing Renown penalty on death had me more than a little concerned.

Deaths could add up pretty fast, and given that my Renown losses would multiply with each and every death, I had to pick and choose the risks I took. And this didn't seem like one of those moments.

I shrugged. “Take a deep breath, Frank.”

“What?” he said.

I grabbed the nearest corpse—a small Woodbone man with steely skin—and pulled him directly on top of me.

“Weird,” Frank said. “Also gross.”

“Necessary,” I replied.

The ferry bobbed along, beads of red liquid splashing over the side from time to time, each of them stinging my skin as if they were slightly acidic. My Health decreased a bit with each drop, though only by a point or two at a time.

The small craft lurched as it met the riverbank, the bodies around me shifting toward the shoreline.

“Lana, you think you can handle the head count?” one of the elves said, a man with pinkish skin dressed in dark leather.

“I think so,” Lana replied. Her voice was shaky and tight, and she was hugging herself there on the riverbank.

“First time's the hardest,” the man said. “We'll get through it. Just get the count so we can pay the little gremlin and send it on its way.”

The boat shifted as the female Fair Folk hopped onto the side of the boat and dropped into a crouch. “Looks like eight bodies in all. Couple of 'em look pretty fresh.”

“Thanks,” the man said. He produced a heavy pouch from inside his coat, removed a handful of silver coins, then handed the entire sack to the fairy, who pocketed it. “Let's get 'em out and under the cover of the trees as fast as we can. Patrols don't come around these parts very often, but it's best not to take chances.”

“Sure,” the woman said. She pulled one of the smaller bodies across her shoulders into a fireman's carry and walked it off the boat.

“Gentle now,” the man said. “A broken bone will run us the better part of a gold coin, and they're a brittle people.”

“Right,” the woman said. She dropped to one knee beneath the bright tree line and lowered the body onto the grass.

“Perfect, Lana,” the man said. “You're doing great. Just a few more.” He hopped into the boat, scanned the bodies, then looked straight at me. “Jackpot,” he said.

I stayed completely still—eyes open, trying not to blink—as he rolled the body off me.

“What is it?” Lana said.

“Fresh one,” he said. “Can't have been dead for more than a couple hours. You wanna take this one? Doubt he's been rotting long enough to smell.”

“Sure,” Lana said.

The man threw a corpse over his right shoulder and a second over his left, and made his way off the boat.

I closed my eyes as soon as his back was turned. The boat rocked in place, then a thin pair of arms snaked their way beneath me, one curving beneath my knees, the other wrapped about my shoulders.

“Wow,” Lana said as she carried me off the boat. “This one's still warm.”

“Happens from time to time,” the man said. “He probably lived with the Merchant Fairies. Starvation or poor living finally caught up with him or something, and they just tossed him onto the nearest boat.”

“Yeah, but he's really warm,” Lana said.

“Put him a bit away from the others,” the man said. “We usually sort them by how long they've been dead.”

Lana set me down gently, and I felt her lingering there, her breaths coming shallow and fast. “Isn't right. None of this is right. Buying bodies from graverobbers and pulling them apart.” She spat, but thankfully not at me.

“Nope,” the man said, “it isn't. But this is what they've left us with, Lana. It's the only answer we've got.”

“There has to be another way,” she said, trailing off. But I heard the male elf approaching again.

“Used to be easy,” he said. “We'd both process our dead and trade for what we needed, but that stopped a couple years back. Woodbone realized it was easier to string us up and drain us dry than to trade with us. Doesn't help that their tree's a good bit smaller than ours, and they don't need blood anywhere near as much as we need bones. And they've never been happy to coexist. Denying us bones is the best weapon they have.”

“It still feels wrong,” Lana said.

“Of course it does. This is messy, dirty work. But if we weren't unloading these bodies, somebody else would be doing it. I dunno. I like not having to worry about feeding my family. And I wouldn't be able to afford the bones I need any other way.”

Lana sighed. “Why do they have to make everything so difficult?”

“Because they hate us,” the man said. “It's in their nature. No use in getting upset about it.”

I cracked an eye open and watched the two depart for the boat together. Once they were about halfway there, I pushed myself to my feet as quietly as I could, then darted behind a nearby tree.

I peeked around it and saw they were speaking to the fairy—the male elf seemed to understand its language—so I ran off into the trees at a dead sprint, trying to avoid the dry, colorful leaves that covered the ground with little success.

I pulled up once I'd put about a hundred yards of distance between the elves and me, hands on knees, breathing hard.

“Huh,” Frank said.

I coughed. My lungs were a bit tight, and while I wasn't super uncomfortable, I could tell I'd pushed my body to its limits. Seemed like Constitution might be tied more tightly to my endurance than I'd realized.

“What?” I said, once I'd caught my breath.

“That worked,” Frank said.

I cracked a smile and glanced around at the colorful trees, the lush grass, the bright birds soaring overhead, the red river off in the distance. Frank was right. It had worked.

It wasn't that my plan of playing dead had been anything special, or that I thought I'd be rewarded for playing things out the way I had. It was just that for once in my gaming life, I felt like I'd managed to improvise my way out of a situation, to have done something unforeseen and had the game world play along.

And more importantly, it meant that improvising in the future was a legit plan. This wasn't a world where I was locked into completing one objective or another. This was a world where I could chart my own path, where—

“It's weird,” Frank said, “'cause usually you mess things up. Terribly. But this was fine.”

I squinted down at him. “Way to ruin the moment, Frank.”

“What moment? You're out of breath in a forest, big deal. C'mon, we've got stuff to kill.”

“You don't understand,” I said. “That interaction was cool. Simple, sure, but cool. Getting across the river was like a puzzle, but you could arrange the pieces any way you wanted.”

“That sounds like a crappy puzzle,” Frank said.

I shook my head. “Do you have any idea how long I've waited for an M.M.O where you could actually use the terrain for something more than breaking line of sight? Like, where you could roll an archer, post up in a tree, and actually shoot people from there as they passed by? Years, Frank. Decades. And this is even better than that.

“Every game I've ever played to date has felt like a questing system the developers built a world around. But this is the total opposite, a world where the quests themselves are secondary to the way you choose to complete them. I mean, a lot of the early quests were still pretty rigid, but that one…that was different. That was awesome.”

“My dad did that,” Frank said.

“Yeah,” I said. “He might be a petty asshole with mismatched areolas, but he built an absolutely incredible world.” I glanced down at Frank. “Don't tell him I said that.”

“I will not do that,” Frank said.

I sighed. Frank was definitely going to do that. Oh well.

I pulled up my mini map, which had updated since I'd crossed the river. A small patch of blue was shining a good bit to the north, so I figured that was the graveyard and headed that way.

Chapter Sixteen

A lonely mountain rose off in the distance as I headed down the road, its smooth arc drawn in the same garish colors as the forest.

I frowned as I drew closer. The mountain just looked…off. “Oh,” I said, as I realized what I was seeing. Not a mountain, but a tree, its leaves even brighter than the red and orange canopy that hung some thirty feet above my head.

“Yup,” Frank said. “That's the World Tree. Kind of breaks your sense of scale, eh?”

“Yeah,” I said. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

By the time I reached the edge of the World Tree's canopy, the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, and the tree's bright foliage was blending in beautifully with the sunset.

The breeze picked up as I stepped into the tree's huge shadow, a few scarlet leaves whipping sideways in the wind. The trunk looked strange from so far out, swollen, and bulbous at the base, as if another organism was growing on top of it.

I realized what I was looking at when the first distant torch ignited. The Fair Folk had built their city against the base of the World Tree. The buildings were vaguely circular in shape and, taken together, they formed a honeycomb-like city that hugged the trunk from all directions as it rose, the city narrowing as it climbed. I could make out a few roads, too, switchbacks knifing their way up the city's many tiers.

More pressing, though, was the twenty-foot wall of thorny vines rising off in the distance, boxing in an area that was quite obviously where I needed to reach. The ground between the forest I stood in and the wall itself was clear but for a few stray bushes and weeds, and I was already a little anxious about leaving the cover of the trees behind.

I pulled up my mini map and sure enough, the graveyard was nestled within the wall. Despite the distance, I could already hear music on the breeze, woodwinds putting out a somber tune.

Judging by the mini map, it seemed like the graveyard was rectangular in shape, with a gate at the center of each thorny wall. And no doubt there would be guards, given the bonus objective that had been tacked onto my most recent quest.

I left the road behind and crept into the trees, circling around the wall and approaching it at the nearest corner. A jolt of pain ran up the back of my right leg, and I looked down to find an arrow embedded in my calf.

“Woodbone! Woodbone!” someone said from nearby. I looked to my right to find a member of the Fair Folk had appeared out of thin air only feet away from me, and now he was sprinting for the nearest gate at a dead run. “They're coming, sound the alarm!”

I queued up a root and inspected the N.P.C.

{Fair Folk Scout} (Level 4 Fair Folk)

H.P: 150/150

Dark roots reached out of the grass and snared the elf about his ankles, his momentum causing him to slam face-first into the ground.

I moved into a bolt as he righted himself, a knife blinking into his hand. He cocked back and threw, the knife whirling at me end over end.

I twisted to the side without dropping my cast, the knife singing over my shoulder. I readied a Horrify just as the bolt left my outstretched hand, not wanting to let the scout reach the help that was surely standing ready within the graveyard.

The laughing skull caught him in the small of the back, causing him to turn and run directly at me. I sighed with relief as I wound up another bolt and followed it up with a Soulshatter to put the mob down for good.

“Woof,” I said. “That was unexpected.”

“Shoulda Horrified right off the bat,” Frank said.

“Huh?”

“The shouting for help thing,” Frank said. “Physics here are realistic. If he'd been close enough to the graveyard where the guards coulda heard him, the root wouldn't have made a difference, but the fear would have shut him up. Just saying.”

I looked down at Frank, one eyebrow cocked above the other.

“What?” Frank said.

“I'm waiting for you to follow up with an insult.”

“Rude,” Frank said. “I can be helpful without insulting you.”

“You very rarely do that. Anyway, thanks. That's a good point. I thought the dialog was more thematic than functional.”

“Nope,” Frank said. “Definitely purposeful.”

I checked my Quest Log. That scout had counted toward my bonus objective, so I only needed nine more kills. I looted the body and came away with a Weak Soul Gem, which was a particularly good find after trading away my entire stock.

I was still happy with my choice of profession, but leveling it was proving significantly more difficult than I had thought it would be. I just wasn't finding enough gems.

The air directly in front of me blurred, as if it'd become hazy with heat. Then another mob appeared in front of me mid-tackle, a dagger gripped in one hand.

He crashed into me and drove us both backward onto the ground. He ended up on top of me, one hand grasping my throat while the other descended toward my chest, his knuckles white around the hilt of a black dagger.

The dagger struck the very center of my sternum, thumping hilt-deep into my chest.

“Critical strike, your Health at 43%,” Frank said.

I gasped reflexively despite the painless wound and popped my staff into both hands.

I whipped it sideways, trying to catch the scout in the side, and though the blow connected, I didn't have enough leverage to put any force behind it, so I was unsurprised to see a white 0 float up above the mob's head as he ripped the dagger out of my chest and struck again.

I pulled my staff back into a defensive position and managed to fully catch the blade, the short weapon sinking an inch or two into the butt of my staff.

The scout tried to pull his weapon back, but I twisted the staff to the side, yanking the hilt from his grip. He let go of the weapon and punched me square in the nose, then took off toward the graveyard, screaming up a storm.

I tried to roll to my feet, but I couldn't move.

“Stunned,” Frank said. “That punch was a skill. Three seconds remaining.”

I squinted at the scout, who was rapidly approaching the outer limits of my range. “Crap.” I rolled to my feet as the stun dissipated, bolting for the cover of the trees as shouts rose behind me.

“Get out of their line of sight,” Frank said.

I glanced back over my shoulder. The scout had disappeared into the graveyard, but the guards hadn't yet emerged. I ducked into the tree line and posted up behind a rose-colored bush full of black berries.

A squad of eight guards in heavy copper armor flooded out of the nearest gate and fanned out over the grass, all manner of weapons drawn.

“Did they see me?” I said.

“The guards didn't,” Frank said, “or they'd be running right at you. But there could still be a stealthed scout heading this way.”

I swallowed and checked my Health, which was at 31%. I held my breath, trying to listen for the sounds of an approaching enemy.

Leaves crunched nearby, and a twig snapped off to my right. I squinted in that direction and caught sight of another blurry distortion moving deeper into the forest about ten feet away from me.

“Damn,” someone said from my left. “Lost him.” The air warped, and a pair of scouts popped into existence.

“Ah well, just the one, right?”

“Far as I could tell. Gah, I was so close. I should have finished him off myself instead of running for help.”

The other scout shrugged. “Nah, you did the right thing. If he was alone, he probably only showed up because he was getting desperate, hungry or something like that. Better to scare 'em off than kill 'em. Makes it easier to sleep at night.”

“I guess.”

“We should get back to patrolling. Ceremony's starting soon.”

“Right.”

Both scouts blurred, then vanished into thin air. I watched the forest floor as they departed, tracking their progress through the footprints they made in the grass as they walked.

I let out a deep breath and sank into a cross-legged position beside the tree, grabbing some food and drink out of my inventory. “That was way, way too close.”

“Yeah. Very. If the guards had caught sight of you, we'd probably still be running.”

I checked my staff, hoping I'd still have that scout's dagger, but all I found was a little incision it'd left behind in the wood. “Not ideal. So we've got some stealthies to deal with, obviously. And I can see them from ten or so feet out, more if I've got the time to look around.” I rubbed my chin. “They're pretty fragile but they hit hard, and my spell kit isn't tailored to this sort of thing; root's useless if they're close enough to call for help, and fear is just as likely to send them running toward the gate as not.”

“Yuuup,” Frank said.

“Are there any scouts within the graveyard itself?”

“Can't say,” Frank said. “That's quest info.”

“Hmm. Alright, then can you tell me what the aggro radius is on a stealthed mob?”

“Varies a lot by mob,” Frank said. “But it's always lower than normal when they're stealthed, so you should be able to get pretty close to them without them actually aggroing. Just stay five or more feet away and you should be good. Also, there are different types of stealth.”

“Different types, huh? You got anything more detailed on stealth in general?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “There's passive stealth and active stealth. Passive is like what you're doing right now, hiding like a coward behind a bush. You stayed out of the mobs' line of sight long enough, so they gave up. Passive stealth is mostly based on the noise you're making and whether or not someone can actually see you, but Dexterity, ambient light, movement speed, and armor weight all make a difference too.”

“Another point for my Dexterity boost,” I said. “So active stealth is an actual skill, then?”

“Yeah, like the way these guys blur and become invisible. There are a couple other ways to do it, like potions and Illusion Magic, but those are rarer.”

I concentrated on the grounds that boxed the graveyard, trying to let my vision adjust. And sure enough, I caught a few glimpses of those same distortions.

It wasn't consistent at all from this distance—a mob would blink into sight for a second or two, then vanish—but spending a few moments watching the grounds was enough to give me a rough count of what I was up against.

It seemed to me that there were five or six of the creatures patrolling this side, all moving in random directions. The pathing was especially problematic; they overlapped each other with a surprising amount of consistency, meaning drawing one and killing it before it could flee for help would be pretty tricky without drawing the attention of a second creature.

“Alright, Frank,” I said. I crept out of the tree line, staying low to the ground and trying to make use of what shadows I could. “You ready for some passive sneaking?”

“I hate this,” Frank said.

“I was hoping you would.” I edged across the grounds step by step, an ear cocked to the wind, scanning the ground for depressed grass.

“You're not even stealthing,” Frank said. “You're just walking around really slowly with bad posture. In the middle of a field.”

“I'm crouching,” I said. “And it seems to be working. What are you complaining about, anyway? This was your idea.”

“In hindsight,” Frank said, “I should not have mentioned stealth.”

Two stealthed mobs were currently pathing around me—one to the right and one to the left—and I was close enough to where the distortions they caused were mostly visible.

“I just don't see the point,” Frank said. “Why not just make these guys dead and waltz in like a boss?”

“Because they're invisible, Frank.”

“Kinda.”

“They're invisible enough to be problematic.” The mob to my right turned sharply toward me, so I backpedaled away from it, letting it path directly in front of me while holding my breath. “That was close,” I said, once the coast was clear.

“Close to being awesome,” Frank said.

“Will you keep it down? They're gonna hear you, and I'm the one who'll end up dead.”

“Tempting,” Frank said. “So very tempting.”

I made it all the way to the nearest gatehouse, which had a single guard standing at the center of a ring-shaped gateway.

{Fair Folk Sentinel} (Level 5 Fair Folk)

H.P: 400/400

“Good bit beefier than the scouts,” I said. “Gonna post up for a bit and check for patrollers.”

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

I pressed myself up against the nearest wall and waited for a few tense moments, expecting to get jumped at any time. But it seemed like the scouts stuck to the perimeter of the graveyard—at least the ones I could see.

I turned my attention to the Sentinel. He wore heavy, full plate armor, and the hilt of a greatsword was poking up above one shoulder. Melee then, obviously.

“Alright Frank,” I said, “you're about to get your wish. It's murder time.”

“The best time,” Frank said.

I scratched the back of my head.

“…You're not murdering,” Frank said.

“Weighing my options,” I said. “Scouts might not be pathing in here, but an unlucky fear could easily send this guy running out the gate. Or even through it, and he could very well run for help at any point, even if that does seem a bit less likely given that he's not a Scout.”

“So kill it before it has a chance to do anything,” Frank said.

“True,” I said. “Guess I don't see good way to avoid taking some kind of a risk. Alright. Let's give it a shot.” I threw out a hand and started up a Ravenbolt, immediately following up with a second as soon as the bolt launched.

“Hit for 66,” Frank said as the creature vanished within a cloud of black feathers.

I was halfway through my next bolt when the mob surged forward, blurring out of the cloud my attack had created at incredible speed.

I blinked as it zoomed across the distance between us and slammed a shoulder into my chest, knocking me several steps backward and canceling my cast.

“That was an ability, almost like a mini teleport,” Frank said. “Gap closer.”

I started up a root as the Sentinel whipped its blade out and stalked closer, sneering as he approached. “You should have run when you had the chance, Fae.” He took a step to the side and spun, slashing out with a backhanded attack, his weapon glowing white.

The swing itself came up well short, but an arc of silver light continued on, coming at me at head level.

I ducked and kept my cast going as the arc sizzled above my head and flew off toward the trees.

My root connected so I ran through the gatehouse and moved deeper into the graveyard, taking up a position near max range. A couple of other Sentinels were posted within the safety of the walls, but they were far enough away that I wasn't worried about attracting their attention.

And I really, really wanted to get away from those invisible scouts, and I hadn't seen any distortions out this way.

I waited for the root to tick most of the way down, which dropped the creature's Health to 79%.

I launched another bolt which immediately broke my root, then moved into a third while watching for the Sentinel to reuse its gap closer.

Sure enough, the Sentinel blurred forward when it was about twenty feet out, moving in that same supernatural way. But this time I was ready.

I summoned my staff into my hand and ducked low, sweeping out at knee level just as the mob appeared in front of me. The damage was pathetic, a lowly 2 floating up into the air, but the attack succeeded in tripping the creature up, though that had more to do with its forward momentum than the power I'd put behind the attack.

I took a few quick steps backward, then launched another bolt at the prone creature, who struggled to rise. The force of the spell sent him tumbling across the ground, and the next bolt duplicated, dropping it beneath 20% Health.

I mentally swapped my staff onto my back and made a fist with my right hand, activating Soulshatter.

The creature looked up at me just as the purple fog coalesced around it, its eyes wide and frightened. The cloud exploded, a yellow 74 drifting up into the air, leaving a glowing corpse behind.

I bent and looted the creature, coming away with another Weak Soul Gem, which meant I only needed one more before I could make another temporary enchantment.

“How do you not want to roll a melee class?” Frank said.

“Hmm?”

“When you kneecapped that guy and sent him sprawling. That was so, so much cooler than flinging a bunch of purple lights around.”

“You know, I do really like the melee stuff,” I said. “It's satisfying, and I haven't ever played anything where meleeing had utility potential for a pure spellcaster. Usually if you're meleeing on a mage it means you've run out of better things to do and are almost certainly about to die. That said, having spent my entire life not having magic until yesterday? I'm happy with my choice. Magic is awesome.”

“But you could smack things so much harder if you rerolled a Half-Troll—”

“Let the dream die, Frank. Let it die.”

“Never,” Frank said.

“But yeah, been thinking about incorporating some more melee recently. It doesn't seem like I'm ever going to hit hard enough for the damage to be worth it, but I can still knock stuff off balance pretty well. Dexterity really is turning out to be a lot better than I thought it would.”

Frank vibrated at my side. “Sometimes you just gotta pop stuff in the mouth, you know?”

“I do. I do know that, Frank.”

I moved into the graveyard proper, which was a grassy expanse boxed with willows, about the size of a football field and set about forty feet within the high green walls. Rows of immaculately clean tombstones lined the space, and there were a few mausoleums sprinkled throughout, white, shed-sized buildings sculpted from marble or something like it.

“Seems a bit on the small side for a graveyard,” I said. “Given the size of that tree.”

“This is one graveyard of twelve,” Frank said. “They have a different one for every month. Monthly ceremonies and all.”

“Ah,” I said. I found another Sentinel pathing around the graveyard, so I made quick work of him with a series of bolts, nullifying his charge skill in the same way. It didn't seem like the Sentinels had any interest in trying to run away when they were low, which was a huge relief. And I also picked up the Weak Soul Gem I needed, so I went ahead and turned that into a Siphonshot.

You crafted {Weak Siphonshot} x1!

Your skill in Soul Alchemy increased to 6!

I pocketed the item for now; these creatures had low enough Health that Mana wasn't quite so much of an issue.

But the gem was far from the only reward.

Congratulations, you reached level 5!

Your Dexterity increased by 3!

Your Intelligence increased by 3!

Congratulations, you unlocked the Player Housing system!

“Jackpot,” I said. “Cannot wait to get to building something.” I hadn't checked my stats in a while, so I pulled them up as I plopped onto the ground, drinking to regain my Mana.

{Ned}, (The First Citizen)

Level: 5

Tier 1 Class: Dark Mystic

Gear Level: 6 41

Strength: 10 12

Dexterity: 16 28

Constitution: 8 12

Intelligence: 22 34

Wisdom: 15 19

Charisma: 10

Haste: +0% +1%

Physical Attack: 3 5

Magical Attack: 11 18

Health: 64 96

Mana: 220 340

Armor: 6% 15%

Magical Resistance: 0% 36%

“Oh hell yeah!” I said. “Look at that read out, Frank. Look at all the arrows!”

“And most importantly, 2 points of Strength,” Frank said. “We're finally packing a bit of muscle onto that tiny, underdeveloped chest of yours. Now we just need some hair.”

“No idea where the hair stuff is coming from, and I'm more interested in the whole I have 50 percent more Health thing, but sure, the Strength is nice. And we finally unlocked the Housing system. When can we start on that?”

“Once we leave the starter zone,” Frank said.

“How long do you think that'll be?”

“Can't really say for sure,” Frank said. “That depends on how well you handle things from this point forward. And what decisions you make.”

“Is tomorrow realistic?”

“It's possible.”

“Awesome. Can't wait for that.” I headed deeper into the graveyard, pulling and nuking Sentinels whenever it was safe to do so. Then a patch of blue light caught my eye, overlaying a small hollow between two tombstones.

I pulled up my mini map to double check, and sure enough, I'd arrived at one of the Tuning Spike locations. I popped one of the spikes into my hand and slid it into the earth, the cold metal vibrating slightly at my touch.

My Quest Tracker updated immediately. I still needed to place the other four spikes, and I needed three more Fair Folk kills to polish off the bonus objective.

The latter proved pretty trivial. By the time I was ready to place the fifth spike, I'd killed off another eight Fair Folk and earned a pretty incredible haul for the trouble.

{Copper Coin} x40

{Weak Soul Gem} x4

{Lesser Soul Gem} x1

{Scrap of Linen} x3

And by far the biggest prize of the lot:

{Cowl of the Fair Noble}

Grade: E

Item Level: 7

Slot: Back

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +3 Intelligence, +2 Charisma

Secondaries: +2% Critical Strike Chance

Armor: +1%

I slung that over my shoulders on the spot, and while it was neon green and a little small, I now had an item in every item slot except for two, both of which were labeled Trinket. “How do you like me now, Frank?”

“Less,” Frank said. “I didn't think it was possible, either, but you continue to surprise me.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at the cloak and tried to rearrange it. “What? Is it the green?'

“Partly,” Frank said. “But also, what kind of cape only reaches your mid-back? It looks like you cut an off-center hole into an ugly placemat and jammed it over your head.”

“…It's not a cape,” I said. “It's a cloak. A noble one.”

“Whatever it is, you should hide it immediately,” Frank said. “Real talk. I'm not even making fun of you right now. It's that bad.”

I scowled down at him. “You really can't let me have anything, huh?” I went into my item menu and disabled cloaks, making it so that mine wouldn't visibly show. And on second thought…yeah. My character looked way better without it.

“One day, you're going to look back on this and thank me,” Frank said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I spotted the final patch of blue, so I ran over and jammed the fifth spike into the earth, earning a quick quest prompt.

Quest Update: A Song for the Departed.

Objective: Find a way through the Fair Folk front lines, then place 5 {Tuning Spikes} around the Fair Folk graveyard beneath the World Tree (Complete).

Bonus Objective: Kill 10 Fair Folk of any kind before you place the 5th {Tuning Spike} (Complete).

Objective: Witness the ceremony and survive its aftermath (Phase 2).

Reward: Experience, Renown, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell.

“Aftermath?” I said. “That's a little ominous.”

An area of my Quest Tracker had lit up, so I made my way between the tombstones and beneath the willows toward the rear of the graveyard now brimming with elves.

There was music on the air, a surprisingly lively tune that was a far cry from the melancholy sound I'd expected. The Fair Folk were dressed in bright colors as well: oranges and reds, pinks and violets, the same colors mirrored by the titanic canopy of the World Tree far above. The mood was surprisingly joyous, more celebratory than somber.

I posted up beside a marble mausoleum at the edge of the area the Quest Tracker had suggested and waited for the event to begin.

The chatter died by degrees and the Fair Folk broke off, taking up positions just inside the willows that lined the graveyard and forming a loose ring. Many now wielded the instruments I'd heard so much about: flutes and reeds, violins and harps, even the odd harmonica, all of which were carried with surprising reverence.

A Fair Folk N.P.C cleared her throat from near the center of the graveyard, a tall woman dressed in a knee-length red dress. “Firstly,” she said, her voice ringing off the stone walls, “we give thanks for the bones we have.”

A murmur of agreement went up among the gathered elves, sounding like a series of small prayers.

“Secondly,” she continued, “we ask forgiveness for the methods through which we have obtained them.”

Another murmur, far darker than the first.

“Thirdly, we pray for a return to the past, to the days when our Woodbone brothers and sisters danced beneath the World Tree beside us.”

I looked around, expecting to spot some kind of disagreement but finding none.

“Fourthly, we pray for our dead. We pray that on this moonlit night, our music serves to guide their departed souls into the boughs of the World Tree. And finally, we pray for ourselves. That we may join those we've lost when our time comes. That our last hour will be full of music and mirth; that there will still be songs left to guide us once we too are in need of shepherding. Let us begin.”

The music started then, rising like a wind from all around, a joyous harmony that sent shivers running up my spine.

But almost immediately, it was obvious that something was wrong, a sort of undercurrent to the music, a deep vibration that gained resonance as the song grew louder.

“You've done well, young one,” a familiar voice said from beside me.

I turned to find the Symphonist standing across from me, a dark smile creasing her lips. Lars stood beside her, wavering slightly, his eyes glazed over and uncomprehending.

“Just so you know, this is different,” Frank whispered. “She should be hiding in one of the mausoleums right now, not standing out in the open.”

“Really?” I said. “Maybe the Lars quest changed things?”

“Could be, can't say,” Frank said.

“Can you feel it?” the Symphonist said. “Can you feel the earth shivering beneath our feet? The fools. They have no idea what they're singing to.”

I looked around. The Fair Folk were definitely confused, all of them glancing about even as they played and sang, but they pressed on nonetheless. “Why don't they just stop singing?” I said.

“They can't,” the Symphonist replied. “That's the beauty of the trap. They sing for the souls of their dead, Mystic; to lead the departed into their misguided vision of the afterlife. To stop singing would be to strand their loved ones in limbo and to deny the World Tree the nourishment it needs. The fools. Feeding their souls to a tree.”

I thought about mentioning the obvious irony there but decided to pass.

The World Tree rustled and shook overhead, the motion loosing a storm of red and orange leaves. An enormous dragonfly burst out of the canopy, ridden by a Fair Folk dressed in red plate armor sitting just in front of its blurring, iridescent wings. The rider wasted no time in his approach, beelining straight for us.

He leaped when the bug was still some thirty feet off the ground and his mount swerved away, plunging back into the thick canopy above.

The rider hit the ground and dipped a shoulder, rolled smoothly to his feet, and drew a pair of curved swords from hip-mounted sheaths. I inspected him.

{High King Tyrinia} (Level 15 Fair Folk)

H.P: 1,600/1,600

M.P: 1,200/1,200

The king ripped his helmet off, revealing a scarred face and short gray hair. “What have you done, monster?”

“Monster, is it?” the Symphonist said. “And to think of all the sweet names you used to call me. Oh, the thought alone brings me back. To nights spent sneaking through the caves, mornings—”

“What have you done?” the king repeated.

The earth shuddered and groaned as a deep blast of sound emanated up from the depths.

The king's face went ashen. “You didn't. You couldn't, you—”

“Oh, I have,” the Symphonist said. “I most certainly have. Ocelum approaches, fair king. And the Molten Ghost is so very hungry.” She craned her neck up at the World Tree, the entirety of which trembled. “You know, it took me decades to design a rhythm deep enough to draw his attention. And once he's close enough to sense the World Tree's magic, I doubt he'll be able to turn down such a satisfying meal.”

“Why do you hate us so?” the king said in a tired voice. “It has been so, so long. Aren't you tired of conflict?”

“No,” the Symphonist said. “I am tired of exile. I am tired of living in a no man's land between our two kingdoms while belonging to neither. I am tired of hearing your shrill music float on the breeze, of being forced to listen to the same damn songs month in and month out. And if my return means war, then so be it. The Fae are behind me.”

“So, it's about you then, is it?” the king said. “It has been decades, and you're still as selfish as ever. Do you not realize how many of the Woodbone Fae are starving on the Red River's bank at this very moment? Or do you simply not care? What can you possibly think a war will accomplish? It will cost you everything.”

“I've nothing left to lose,” she said. “And as you well know, there are always those who stand to profit in times of war.”

“But it makes no sense!” He pointed one of his swords at the World Tree. “Ocelum is fearsome, I will give you that. But even his great appetite is no match for the World Tree. You will lose this fight, and the World Tree will recover in time.”

“Perhaps,” the Symphonist said. “But even then, I will die at peace, knowing I took thousands of Fair Folk with me. We have waited long enough for vengeance. And we stand ready to claim it no matter the cost.”

“Very well,” the king said. “I will not enjoy this, but you've left me no choice. Fair Folk, I ask that you leave this monster to me.” He dashed forward, grass flying behind him as he struck with both swords, a horizontal cross slash the Symphonist pulled away from at the last moment, the blades grazing her stomach as she leaped backward and into the air.

She floated above the ground, drifting as if she'd been caught by the wind. She touched down some ten paces away, landing atop a dark tombstone with her feet close together. “Always so quick to act,” she said. She placed a hand across her belly; blood was leaking between her fingers. “I loved that about you,” she said. “At first, anyway.”

I checked her Health bar. She was already down to 65%. And given the level disparity between the two N.P.C's, it didn't seem like the Symphonist had even the slightest chance of victory. I glanced at Lars, thinking about what Frank had mentioned earlier regarding the Symphonist's position. She might have been vengeful to a fault, but she didn't seem stupid. So maybe she had a plan.

“Enough talk,” the king said as he stalked closer. His twin blades glowed, silvery flames radiating from hilt to tip.

The Symphonist rolled up her right sleeve to the elbow, revealing an arm that was just a pair of wooden bones riddled with holes. She pressed her forearm to her lips and blew a long, sharp note.

The tombstone she stood upon cracked down the middle, and she leaped backward just as it crumbled to the ground and a sonic shockwave ripped toward the Fair Folk king, so strong that it tore the grass from its roots and ripped a number of tombstones straight out of the ground.

The king raised his silvery blade, contempt plain on his face. The wave of force and flying debris split around him as if he were a boulder in the middle of a raging river, leaving him completely unharmed.

A few notes of familiar music reached my ears then, and my teeth buzzed in a familiar way. I glanced back at Lars, who had raised a flute to his lips, and while he was playing in the king's direction, his eyes were as blank as ever.

The king stumbled slightly, but immediately regained his balance and charged off after the Symphonist, flashing strike after strike in her direction as she leaped between the tombstones, desperately trying to keep some measure of distance between them.

“Frank?” I said as the two N.P.C's continued to duke it out. “Why did the Fair Folk attack?”

“You mean like, in general?” Frank said.

“When I spawned in,” I said, “the Fair Folk had just reached the Underworld Tree, and they were trying to steal something we needed. What was it?”

“Oh,” Frank said. “The Gardener kidnapped the king's sons. He was after their royal blood, which is particularly good food for the Underworld Tree.”

“So it wasn't an attack at all,” I said. “It was a rescue mission. And they left the moment they had what they wanted, with the Underworld Tree in plain sight. When they could have easily damaged it, if not destroyed it completely.”

“That's the short of it,” Frank said.

The Symphonist laughed as she dodged one of the king's attacks and his blade sliced a tombstone cleanly in half. But for all her bluster, there was no hiding the fact that she was on the losing end of this fight; her Health had dipped below 50% and the king's bar was entirely untouched.

“But what's the endgame here?” I said. “She clearly wants to draw the Fair Folk into another war, but for what?”

“Pride,” Frank said. I felt him shrug at my side. “Not gonna lie, I get it.”

“Of course you do.”

Lars' music was building, and I had to fight off the urge to plug my ears; I didn't want to miss what Frank was saying.

“Seriously though,” Frank said, “the Fair Folk have had the upper hand for decades, and the Woodbone are going downhill as a whole. I don't blame them for trying to change things.”

“So maybe they should stop being a bunch of dicks who steal what they need and just trade for it instead. Especially when the other party is more than willing.”

“Sure, but again: pride,” Frank said. “And history. Remember the Woodbone codex entry? They're a proud, vengeful people. They tend not to let things go regardless of the consequences.”

“Which makes them stupid,” I said. “No point in cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

“Maybe not for you,” Frank said, “but I'd rather die than ask an enemy for help.”

“Yeah, but you're not exactly an unbiased observer here,” I said. “You talk about dying in a blaze of glory all the time. It's like your thing.”

“And you'd rather talk than fight,” Frank said. “And I'm biased? Pot, meet kettle.”

“Fair point,” I said, “if a bit overstated. I'm happy to fight so long as it's the best option.”

The Symphonist sent another shockwave at the king, who shrugged off the attack just as he had before, but the spell bought her some time. She leaped toward me, hopping from one tombstone to the next until she was maybe ten feet away.

The king dashed through the graveyard, moving so quickly his swords left silver streaks hanging in the air.

Then Lars' music hit some kind of threshold, and dirt and stone debris swept out from him like a gust of wind.

The king staggered, then stumbled, eventually dropping to one knee. He put a hand up as if to shield himself from the sonic assault, but his eyes glazed over, losing their intelligent gleam.

“A powerful tool, no?” the Symphonist said as she pushed off her perch and ghosted down next to the king. She'd taken a beating. Deep ruts marked her wooden arm, and her clothing was saturated with blood, her Health bar blinking red at 7%. “Pity it takes so long for his skills to reach their apex. But with time, he will learn.”

The king blinked once, twice, then both of his swords slipped out of his hands and dropped to the grass. He wavered on his knees, struggling for breath.

Fair Folk Sentinels rushed in from all around the graveyard, seeming to sense their king was in danger for the first time. But the Symphonist played another quick note, and a whirlwind kicked up, one that encircled the four of us and battered aside any who dared approach.

“The mind is a soft thing,” she said as she reached the king. “Powerful, yes. But so easily parted from the body, so long as you can find the right tune.” She looked to Lars. “Or the right instrument. I know you're in there, Fair King. And I'll release your mind for good soon enough.”

She put a finger beneath the king's chin and lifted his face up to the World Tree. “But I want you to see this first. I want you to watch as the World Tree is eaten alive. I want you to see the moment your people realize they are not invincible.”

The earth groaned and shuddered, and I smelled smoke on the air.

“The trees!” someone said, likely one of the Sentinels. “God, it's true! He's really headed this way!”

I followed the sound of the voice and was awestruck by what I saw. A wave of blue fire roared toward the World Tree, carving through the green pines of the Faelands from which I'd come as if they were no more than kindling.

The blaze was tight and focused—maybe fifty yards across—and the flames burned so hot that they barely had a chance to spread, so wherever Ocelum went, he left a river of deadfall smoldering in his wake, with verdant pines lining the way to either side.

I shook my head. From the speed the flames were approaching, we had maybe thirty seconds before Ocelum reached the tree. “I don't like this, Frank. I don't like the Woodbone in general.”

“I get that,” Frank said. “But like I said before, it's just a quest.”

“I dunno man, is it?” I said. “I mean, I recognize this is a questline, but the whole point of coming to E.B.O was to live the kind of life I could be proud of. To build something. And I might not be sure what that'll look like down the road—it could be an empire, or a legacy, anything—but this…this feels like the exact opposite of building something.

“The Woodbone are just tearing shit down because they're frustrated and spiteful and petty. I mean, they're treating people who would willingly bargain with them like livestock.” I spat onto the ground. “And this war won't even leave them better off. That's the part that's really sticking in my throat.”

“Is this about your dumb dad again?” Frank said.

“No,” I said. “This isn't far off from the sort of thing he'd do if it meant hurting a competitor, but no. He was too strategic to pull a stunt like this.” I raised a hand at the Symphonist, who was grinning up at the World Tree, facing away from me with the king kneeling in front of her. She'd recovered a bit of Health, but she was still low at 10%.

“This is about me,” I said. “This is about starting over the right way all the way from the beginning. I am sick and tired of always taking the easy way out only to regret my choices down the line. No regrets, Frank. Not this time around.” Then I made a fist.

“What are you doing?” Frank said, his voice unusually sharp.

“I can do anything I want in this game, right? That's what the trailer promised.”

“Sure,” Frank said, “but if you're about to do what I think you're about to do, I really, really doubt it ends well for us. I'm not aware of a single plausible scenario where—”

“Screw it, we'll figure it out,” I said. “The Woodbone suck. And they deserve what's coming.” Then I targeted the Symphonist and activated Soulshatter.

Chapter Seventeen

The Symphonist whirled on me, purple fog coalescing all around her. She opened her mouth to say something just as the explosion went off, and she vanished amidst a cloud of purple vapor.

{Soulshatter} hit {The Symphonist} for 81 damage.

You defeated {The Symphonist}!

You gained 100 Experience!

You gained 75 Renown!

Quest Failed: A Song for the Departed!

You are now Hostile with the Woodbone Fae!

You are now Friendly with the Fair Folk!

A hand clapped onto my shoulder, and I spun to find the king staring at me, confusion still heavy in his eyes. “You?” he said. “You did this? You…you killed her.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I did.”

“A Woodbone,” the king said. He shook his head as if to clear it. “You saved my life. We are in your debt, friend.” He pointed a shaking finger at the sapphire tsunami that was burning its way toward us. The flames had jumped the Red River and were now rapidly approaching.

“And yet, the Molten Ghost still approaches,” the king continued. “The Symphonist may be gone, but the damage she did cannot be undone. And while it comforts me that she will not live to see the fruits of her labor, I'm afraid she accomplished exactly what she set out to do. This means war, Fae. There is no way around it.”

“But what happens now?” I said.

The king cast a mournful look up at the World Tree. “I imagine Ocelum will eat his fill this night. I do have faith that the World Tree will survive, though. And when the sun comes up tomorrow, we find a way to rebuild whatever it is we've lost. And we prepare for the battle to come. But this is not your fight, Woodbone. Save yourself. If we do survive this night, we will find you and reward your courage five-fold.”

New Quest: The Blanching Wind!

Objective: Flee to safety before Ocelum consumes you on his way to the World Tree.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and your choice of a class-appropriate spell.

“Call the dragonflies,” the king said, addressing what few Sentinels remained. “We have but moments before the ghost arrives. Let's save as many as we can.” He nodded at me. “Thank you again, Woodbone. And if your people catch wind of what's happened today, I pray they be more merciful toward you than I expect.” His mount glided down and landed beside him, and the king threw himself into the saddle and soared toward the city at the base of the World Tree.

“That's it?” I said. “Now I run away?”

“That appears to be the case,” Frank said. “Finally, something you're good at.”

I frowned. “But nothing really changed. I did get a huge Renown boost and it doesn't seem like I'll miss out on getting another skill, but man…I was really hoping that turning on her would actually make a difference.”

“I'm not surprised,” Frank said. “Life is cruel and meaningless.”

“Ned?” Lars said, stirring for the first time. His eyes were still blurry, but they cleared fast. “Is that you?”

“Hey, Lars,” I said. I went over and threw an arm around him to help him get his balance; he looked ready to topple over. “Sorry about the belated rescue. Took me a while. We should get going.”

“Going where?” Lars said. “Wait…what happened? What is that sound?” He cocked an ear to the wind, nodding along with a rhythm I couldn't make out. “It sounds like a heartbeat.”

“That is the sound of something enormous coming to take a massive bite out of the World Tree,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I don't know how I know, but I can feel it.” He hesitated in that same way he had back at the inn, as if he were waiting for something. And maybe he was?

I opened my inventory, my eyes sliding to the Flute of the Woodbone King. I summoned the item into my hand and held it out toward Lars. “Do you think you can fix this?” I said.

“Fix it?” he said. But he stared at the flute with something like longing on his face.

“The creature I took this flute from was trying to communicate with the monstrosity that's headed our way. It's a weapon, and she said she wasn't sure that she had the skill to use it, but it worked flawlessly on some of the smaller Soundwhales. She controlled them as if they were puppets.”

I thought back to when I'd first met Lars, to when his music had drawn something up out of the earth only for it to slam into the inn's floorboards, causing them to blacken and smoke.

I fixed him with a look I could only hope appeared more confident than I felt. “I think you'll have better luck with it. I think you can do this. Take it.” And to my surprise, he actually did.

Item removed: {Flute of the Woodbone King}!

“I don't know,” Lars said. “It's…it's complicated. The Symphonist's song is still hanging in the air, and it's like nothing I've ever heard.” He placed the flute to his lips and played a long, sharp note. He shook his head. “I can't stop it. I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“Can you change it then?” I said. “Buy us some more time? Anything?”

Lars cocked his head at that. “Change it…well, I think I could change something. But you're not going to like it.”

“Change what?” I said.

He met my eyes, his guilt obvious. “The target.”

I swallowed, my throat gone suddenly dry.

“I have to give Ocelum something to aim at,” Lars said. “I can't just turn him away.”

“You mean…the Underworld Tree?” I said.

Lars gave me a grim nod.

I whistled, thinking back on my time with the Fae, searching for something redemptive, for proof they could change. The vendors I'd met back in the camp had seemed innocent enough, but I couldn't help but think that had I approached them as a member of the Fair Folk, things would not have gone nearly so well.

And at the end of the day, they'd been going about their business without batting an eye at the Fair Folk who hung suspended in the background, being bled dry by their crystalline prisons.

More importantly, even if the Fae could change, they were the ones who were trying to start a war, who were creating conflict when countless lives would be lost and there was nothing but pride to be gained.

And given all that, why should I let the Fair Folk suffer in the Woodbones' place if I could prevent it?

“Do it,” I said. “Send him back at the Underworld Tree.”

“You're sure?” Lars said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm sure.”

Lars gave me a curt nod, then placed the flute to his lips again and played, the instrument brightening between his fingers, becoming luminescent.

A keening rose off in the distance, deep and somber, and I looked up just as Ocelum broke the surface in all of his burning glory.

The titanic creature was wreathed in blue flames as he swam up out of the dirt and continued on just above the tree line, the colorful flora turning to ash beneath him. He blew another note of music I felt in my sternum, then banked hard to the left—one ghostly flipper tipping sideways up into the night sky—then curved away, dozens of smaller Soundwhales leaping and burning behind him.

“You did it,” I said, stunned. “You actually did it.”

Lars dropped the flute to his side and nodded. His eyes were wide and unblinking, and the color visibly drained from his face.

The droning of wings filled the air, and the Fair Folk King returned, his dragonfly settling onto the grass beside us. More than a dozen other riders followed in quick succession, many of whom now carried Fair Folk passengers, the bulk of them children.

Quest Failed: The Blanching Wind!

I stared at the prompt. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don't even know,” Frank said. “Which means we're onto something big.”

The king shaded his eyes with one hand and peered off in the direction Ocelum headed. He looked to Lars, then to me. “How? How did you turn him away?”

“I didn't,” Lars said. “I sent him after the Underworld Tree instead.” He covered his mouth, looking like he was about to be sick.

The king slid off his mount and landed beside Lars. He threw an arm around the younger elf and pulled him close. “This is a great thing, young one. You've saved countless lives today.”

Lars jerked away. “I didn't save anyone. I just damned a different people.”

“You saved our people,” the king said.

“And it was my decision, Lars,” I said. “What just happened is on me.”

“The Woodbone are the ones who insisted it be us or them,” the king said. “They came to our very doorstep with war in mind, entirely unprovoked.”

“But you'll still help them, won't you?” I said. “The Symphonist and her followers deserve what they get, but there have to be people among the Woodbone who wanted no part of this fight.”

The king glanced my way, then gestured at a rider. “I agree. Rider. Take as many dragonflies as you can spare and make for the Underworld Tree immediately. Tend to the survivors who will accept our help, but don't hesitate to defend yourselves. And make sure Ocelum has departed the area before you risk any of our own.”

The rider nodded and buzzed off, soaring up into the World Tree's bright canopy, and the others followed in turn.

New Quest: {The Tears of the World Tree} (Unique Quest)

Objective: Accept the king's reward!

Reward: Experience, Renown, your choice of a class-appropriate spell, and ??

The king met my eyes. “I'm afraid I still have a duty to fulfill, Fae. One you may not wish to see.” He traced a rectangle in the air, and the space within filled with silvery light. “If the Underworld Tree falls, it deserves a witness who can pass on its story.”

I edged up beside him, peering into the glassy window he'd created. The king seemed surprised, but he stepped aside to make a little room. Lars moved away and leaned down onto a nearby tombstone, his face gone pale and waxy.

The window flashed and faded black. Then the Underworld Tree came into focus, its countless dark skulls lit by flickering candlelight. Dark shapes were running beneath the tree, and though I couldn't quite make them out in the dim light, I was fairly sure the Fae were evacuating the cavern.

It made me think of my first moments in E.B.O, when I'd looked up at the Underworld Tree in awe of its size and grandeur. But now…it just seemed so small.

“I don't know that your people will survive this day,” he said. “But if they do, you ought to prepare yourself.”

“Huh?” I said.

“They will hear of what you've done. And they will come for you. A Woodbone is nothing if not vengeful.”

I licked my lips. “It's fine. I'm leaving as soon as I get the chance. And I won't be coming back.”

The king gave me a rueful smile. “You underestimate your people. They will find you, Fae, wherever you go. They will follow you to the very end of the world, even if it means their own destruction. If you trust me on anything, trust me on that.” He crossed his arms. “Just…sleep lightly, will you?”

“Sure,” I said, shivering a little.

The king pointed at one side of the cavern, where the far wall was just beginning to glow. “The end is near,” he said. “When the time comes, do not look away.”

I nodded and watched as the wall turned a molten shade of red, as the stone liquified and dripped onto the floor.

Then Ocelum burst into the cavern, his body so bright I had to fight the urge to shade my eyes. I could barely make out what was happening but for his wide mouth opening, cleaving, swallowing.

And when the lights finally dimmed, nothing but glowing stone remained of the hole in the world the Molten Ghost had left behind.

The king dismissed his window. “I am thankful you chose to watch,” he said. “It will make the tale easier to tell, knowing I am not the only one who witnessed it.”

He gave me a small smile and gestured up toward the World Tree's canopy, and a rider zoomed down, a wooden treasure chest resting across his lap. He landed next to the king, handed him the chest, then departed.

“Now,” the king said, “we come to your reward.”

I grinned at the treasure chest. I was already dreaming of a powerful artifact, or maybe a piece of legendary gear, or maybe a magical staff that would grow as I gained power, or—

The king opened the chest. And apparently my reward was a red seed.

I got halfway through a sigh before I caught myself and forced a smile. “You're too kind, King. This seed will, uh…”

The king barked a laugh. “This is no simple seed, young one. This is a Tear of the World Tree. One of only three in existence.”

I inspected the item.

{Tear of the World Tree} (Seed)

Quality: Epic

Use: Plant in a Housing Plot you own.

My jaw dropped. “Wait, what? I get a World Tree?” I craned my neck up at the titanic canopy overhead. “Seriously?”

The king chuckled. “I'm afraid it isn't quite that powerful. A great many things go into the creation of a World Tree, and the process takes centuries to complete. What I'm offering you is just a seedling, but a powerful tool nonetheless.”

“Then what'll it grow into?” I said.

The king smiled and snapped the lid shut, then held the chest out to me. “It will grow into whatever it needs to become. Treat it well, Woodbone. It will be a very long time before the world sees another Teardrop.”

A series of options flooded my screen:

You may select 1 of the following 3 spells. Unselected spells may or may not appear at a later time.

{Souldrift} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You become incorporeal and drift backward for 25 feet, or until {Souldrift} is canceled. During this spell's duration, all damage you take is reduced by 95% and you are immune to all forms of crowd control. This ability may be used while stunned.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 45 seconds.

Cost: 20 Mana.

Next rank: Drift range is now increased by 3 feet.

{Shadeblink} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You teleport 20 feet forward, instantly clearing all root effects and becoming immune to subsequent root effects for 2 seconds.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 30 seconds.

Cost: 40 Mana.

Next rank: The first damaging spell you cast after activating {Shadeblink} deals an additional 10% damage.

{Penumbral Leap} (Rank: Novice 1)

Description: You leap 10 feet in any direction, dealing 40 shadow damage to every target within an 8-foot radius of your landing zone and reducing all targets' movement speed by 25% for 3 seconds. This ability causes a high amount of threat.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 50 seconds.

Cost: 10 Mana.

Next rank: Targets afflicted by {Penumbral Leap} now deal 15% reduced damage for the duration of the spell's effect.

I glanced at the king, who was now fiddling with the saddle on his waiting mount; he was probably waiting for me to choose a spell so I could complete the quest.

“Leap,” Frank said. “Discussion over.”

“What?” I said. I was still dazed by the events at hand, but I skimmed the third option. “Oh. Yeah, you would want that one. The movement spell that focuses on damage rather than movement.”

“Exactly,” Frank said. “Just wait 'til you see the animation. Zoom, splat!”

I ignored him and read over the first two options, preferring both of them to Frank's choice because of course I did. They were pretty similar spells, and both seemed like they'd complement my current kit exceedingly well.

“You jump into the air, and this huge flock of ravens comes flying up out of the ground,” Frank continued. “It's still magical, so pretty lame overall, but definitely one of the cooler effects.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “Interesting.” The more I read over the descriptions, the more I kept returning to a single specific line in the Souldrift tooltip: This ability may be used while stunned.

I'd already had trouble with stuns before, and given my current Health pool, a four- or five-second stun could prove fatal pretty quickly.

And while Souldrift had a significantly longer cooldown than Shadeblink, the panic button component was just too good to pass up.

I selected the ability.

“I hate you,” Frank said.

“No you don't,” I said.

“…Fine,” Frank said. “I very strongly dislike you.”

“Hey, progress!” I said. I confirmed my choice and turned in the quest.

And then nothing happened. I frowned down at my logs. “Uh, Frank?” I said. “Did the game just glitch?”

A wave of golden light rippled out from me, an enormous wave of power that was easily twenty feet high. The bright surge rolled onward in every direction, rapidly picking up speed as it traveled along without dissipating in the slightest. I squinted at the far horizon. If anything, the wave seemed to be building.

“What the hell was that?” I said.

You completed a Unique Quest!

You earned 800 Experience!

You earned 500 Renown!

Congratulations, you reached Renown Rank 2: {Adventurer}!

Congratulations, you reached Renown Rank 3: {Citizen}!

You may select 1 of 5 permanent Renown buffs!

You may select a Tier 1 Renown Path!

You gained the skill: {Souldrift}!

You received: {Tear of the World Tree}!

“5…500 Renown?” I said. “Two Ranks? And a new path for—”

Ripple Alert! The actions of player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) have pushed the Woodbone Fae to the brink of extinction! Without substantial intervention, they may soon become unavailable as a playable race!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to trigger the Ripple System!

Awarding Title: {The First Worldshaker}!

“Ripple system?” I said. I was giddy, light, almost nauseous with excitement.

{The First Worldshaker} (Unique Title)

Renown gains from all subsequent Ripples you directly trigger are increased by 50%. Your Followers (both N.P.C's and Players) also passively receive 25% of the Renown you gain from all subsequent Ripples you directly trigger.

“Holy crap, Frank,” I said. “We actually did it. We changed something!” I read back over the prompt about the Ripple Alert, and an undercurrent of guilt mixed in with everything else at the mere mention of the word extinction.

A familiar pop sounded from directly to my right, and unsurprisingly Kline had appeared at my hip, bent over at the waist and staring down at Frank in a very displeased way.

“What did you do, Axe?” Kline hissed.

“Hi, Dad!” Frank said, chipper as ever.

“You're not even supposed to know how to create Ripples,” Kline said. “This wasn't supposed to happen for weeks, if not months! So, I repeat. What. Did. You. Do?”

“Um, nothing?” Frank said. “Am I in trouble? You're right though, Dad, I didn't even know the system existed! I never said anything about it or—”

“What did you tell him?” Kline said.

“He didn't tell me anything,” I said. “I just decided to kill that lady at the last minute because she was awful. The Woodbone Fae as a whole are awful. Not sure they deserve to be eliminated, but it's close.”

Kline glared at me. “You just happened to kill her. And you just happened to find that flute and hold onto it long enough for it to become useful.”

“Uh, it was an Epic item?” I said. “Did you really think I'd throw it out in the span of like, forty-eight hours?”

“And you just happened to befriend Lars, complete his quest, and hand him the flute at the right time.”

“Yeah,” I said, “Frank gave me some info on three different quests, and that was the one I went after, so…”

“And you just happened to betray the Woodbone at the exact right time, and you just—”

“Happened?” I said. “I don't even understand what you're mad about. Frank is working just as you intended. He provided a bunch of hints, and I took advantage of the extra info. Isn't that exactly what you programmed him to do? Seems to me like you're just getting all pissy because I'm the one who's benefitting despite the fact you've been trying to undermine me from the get-go.”

Kline took a deep, steadying breath. “I'm going to have my techs go through your logs with a fine-toothed comb. If Frank broke protocol at any point, the progress you made after that will be rolled back and any time loss will be forfeit. There's no way you pulled this off by accident.”

“Again, it wasn't an accident,” I said. “There were hints and tells every step of the way, and we just kinda figured things out as we went along. Got lucky with the flute drop I guess, but it couldn't have been that rare to begin with, right?”

Kline covered his face with both hands. “God, I'm gonna have to nerf the Axe too. Two days in and I've already got two hotfixes pending. If E.B.O wasn't getting the level of attention it's currently getting, this launch would be an abject failure.”

“Wait,” I said. “Nerf him too? Who else are you nerfing?”

Kline made a sour face. “I'll get back to you on that. Haven't hammered out the details quite yet.”

“Are you seriously nerfing me?” I said, right as he popped away. I kicked a toe into the dirt. “Man, I hate that guy.”

I waited for Frank to respond—thinking he'd probably wanna slather a bit more admiration onto Kline's general existence—but he didn't say anything. “Frank?”

“I'm here,” Frank said.

“Well, yeah, I know you're here.” I scratched the back of my head.

A rider landed beside me, and the king beckoned me up. “When you're ready,” he said, “this rider will fly you to the nearest port, and you can set sail from there.”

“Great,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” the king said. “You've done a great thing this day.” He looked to Lars. “Both of you.”

Lars tossed me the flute I'd given him. “Doesn't feel that way to me.”

You received {Flute of the Woodbone King}!

I inspected the item, which now had a huge crack running down the middle.

{Flute of the Woodbone King} (Flawed)

Quality: Epic

“It was them or—” the king started.

“I'm with Lars,” I said. “This doesn't feel like a win. I still think turning Ocelum back on the Fae was the right call given the choice I had to make, but I can't help but feel like this went way too far. At the very least, it went way farther than I intended.”

I'd wanted to affect the game from the get-go—to shape it into the kind of world I'd always dreamed of living in—and while I was still pumped I'd already made a difference a couple of days in, deleting a playable race wasn't the kind of thing I'd set out to do. That felt more like limiting the game rather than changing it.

And on a more selfish level, it seemed pretty likely that preserving the Fae's place in E.B.O might even cause another Ripple.

The king leaped atop his mount, and the massive insect's wings thrummed into motion. “There are no winners when it comes to war,” he said.

“But is that it, then?” I said. “The Underworld Tree's gone, we just saw it burn to the ground. So are the Fae doomed? Isn't there anything you can do to help?”

“We could help them cultivate another tree, yes,” the king said. “That is a possibility.”

“And doing that would help the Fair Folk in the long run too, right?” I said. “If the Fae disappear, you'll run out of bones eventually. You can only dig them up for so long before you run out.”

“A somber thought,” the king said, “but true nonetheless.”

“So will you help them? If they agree to put their weapons aside once and for all?”

The king offered a sad smile. “In truth, Fae, I think we both harbor the same hope, that this defeat serves as a wakeup call. That no matter how badly the Woodbone Fae wish to be rid of us, they now realize our two peoples' fates are inextricably tied together.

“And if that moment of realization comes to pass, I will grant your request. If your people wish it, I will assist them in the creation of another tree. And in the meantime, I will pray that for once in your people's long, long history, they prove humble enough to ask for help.

“But I do fear our hopes are misguided, and that you may yet come to regret the events of this day.” His mount rose into the air but hovered there for a moment. “Regardless of what happens from this point on, I will remain forever grateful to you both. Thank you.” He saluted and flew off.

Lars hung his head. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? If word gets out about what I just did, the Woodbone will come for us right away. And even if they don't, our inn's going to go under at the very least. The Fae made up a huge part of our clientele.

I mean, it's just a building to me, but to Ma…it's her whole world. It's the only thing she knows.”

“Lars?” I said. “How much do you remember?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I remember leaving the inn. Starting to play then…her, I guess? All I'm getting are images and sounds, wind chimes, laughter, shapes in the dark.” He shivered. “And then you. You saved me, just like you did the king. And then I…” he trailed off again, seeming to wilt under the gravity of what he'd done.

And apparently he'd missed the whole part where I'd delivered him into the Symphonist's waiting hands. Which, quite honestly, was super awesome. “Again, turning Ocelum around was my call, Lars. We'd all be dead right now if it weren't for you. But why don't you come with us?”

“Us?” Lars said. He looked at Frank and sighed. “Oh, right. The mouthy axe puppet. How could I forget.” He paused as if considering. “Where are you heading?”

“Dunno yet,” I said. “But wherever we go, it'll be too far for the Woodbone to follow. We could definitely use some music for the trip.”

“I'm done with music,” Lars said. “Had enough of that. But I'll think about it. Gotta check with Ma first and see what she wants to do. Can't go leaving her behind. Need to warn her about the potential danger, too.”

I deflated. I'd been really hoping he'd want to join back up, especially after that Worldshaker title prompt had confirmed that the game had some kind of a Follower system built into it. “Yeah. I understand. We'll leave a note for you at the docks or something, that way you can find us if you can get her to come along.”

“Sounds good.” Lars stuck out his hand. “It's been…interesting.”

I shook his hand. “Yeah. Sorry about all the collateral. I hope she agrees.”

“Me too,” Lars said. “I don't know what else we could even do if she said no at this point.”

He waved and headed off, so I climbed atop the waiting dragonfly. “Frank?” I said. “You still alive down there? It's been like, thirty seconds, and you still haven't insulted anyone. I'm getting concerned.”

Frank shrugged. “I'm alright. Hey, Ned?”

“Uh huh?”

“Thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

I frowned down at him. “What could you have possibly screwed up? You've given me some information for sure, but that's pretty much your job, and at the same time you've been way, way, way less helpful than you could have been every step of the way. Like, way less helpful. To the point of having me doing things wrong out of spite. What more could he possibly ask?”

“I did do that,” Frank said. “But I dunno, my dad seemed really upset. Feels like I messed something up, I just can't figure out what it is. And I don't want you to lose a bunch of time just because I screwed up somewhere along the way.”

“Relax,” I said. “You didn't mess anything up. I'm not even worried about him going through our logs. And there's no way he's rolling back anything. Kline's probably just stressed out now that the launch is getting close and he's taking it out on you.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Maybe.”

Chapter Eighteen

I gripped the pommel of the dragonfly's saddle with both hands as it ducked its head and sped toward the ground. The creature had made short work of the journey—we'd flown for maybe fifteen minutes, moving so quickly that the colorful trees below had blurred into a vast ocean of oranges and reds—and from the looks of things, it seemed as if the rider was about to drop me off at a little fishing village.

There were maybe fifteen houses in total, all of them clustered near the shoreline where a group of sailboats with tattered masts were bobbing in the gentle waves beside the docks.

A few boats were anchored out in the bay beyond, working nets or pulling up traps. A few of the Fair Folk even appeared to be spearfishing, diving only to resurface with colored fish affixed to the points of their weapons.

The rider set us down, so I thanked him and made for the docks. Seagulls flew overhead, and many of them were perched on nearby rocks or on the boats themselves, and the air was cool and salty.

I spotted a pedestal with a green exclamation point suspended above it, so I jogged down one of the piers, the wooden floorboards groaning beneath me, the waves occasionally splashing up through the gaps, spattering my robes.

I reached the pedestal and found a small boat bobbing in the water beside it, a rickety little craft with one well-worn sail flapping in the wind, while the other was tied up around the vessel's mast. An N.P.C dressed in oiled leather stood near the front of the boat, though he seemed determined to ignore me.

A thin book rested on the pedestal, so I cracked it open and skimmed through. Each page had a hand-drawn map and a couple of quick notes beside it, all of which were helpful, but a little vague for my tastes.

{The Drowning Isles}

Housing Availability: High

Climate: Tropical

Zone Difficulty: Low

{The Stormlit Peaks}

Housing Availability: Low

Climate: Temperate

Zone Difficulty: Average

{The Onyx Sands}

Housing Availability: Low

Climate: Arid

Zone Difficulty: High

“Hey Frank?” I said.

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

“These are destinations, right? The next areas we can head to?”

“You got it,” Frank said.

“So…you've got a lot more information than this book does, right?”

“Oh,” Frank said. “Yeah. Sorry, distracted.”

“You sure you're good?”

“I'm fine. What do you wanna know?”

“Oh man, I don't even know.” I flipped through the book. There were twenty-five options in all, and most of them looked tempting for one reason or another. “Everything? Maybe we should start by looking at the Renown Paths and see what's a good fit from there? We've still got a buff to use, too.”

“Sure.”

I opened my Renown tab and was rewarded with a diagram with my current Renown Rank—Citizen—at the bottom and four paths that branched out like the directions on a compass.

The top path was Warlord, and clockwise from there it went Cleric, Explorer, and Merchant. I pulled up the Warlord path and earned a prompt in response.

{Warlord} (Tier 1 Renown Path)

One who aims to change the world through sheer, unabashed violence.

I waited for Frank to jump in and glorify bloodshed as he usually did, but he didn't. “So what are these, exactly?” I said. “Am I going to suck at combat if I pick anything other than Warlord?”

“Nah,” Frank said. “Renown Paths are less about your individual character and more about how you intend to influence the game. Here's what I've got.”

Codex Entry 300: Warlord (Tier 1 Renown Path)

In-game Description: One who aims to change the world through sheer, unabashed violence.

Hidden Passive: +50% to all Renown gains generated through combat.

Possible Advancement Paths: Knight, Mercenary, General, Raider.

Codex Entry 301: Cleric (Tier 1 Renown Path)

In-game Description: One who aims to change the world to better fit their religion of choice.

Hidden Passive: +50% to all Renown gains generated through religious conversion.

Possible Advancement Paths: Crusader, Shepherd, Missionary, Inquisitor.

Codex Entry 302: Explorer (Tier 1 Renown Path)

In-game Description: One who aims to change the world by broadening its scope.

Hidden Passive: +50% to all Renown gains generated through exploration and discovery.

Possible Advancement Paths: Expeditionary, Colonist, Cartographer, Journeyman.

Codex Entry 303: Merchant (Tier 1 Renown Path)

In-game Description: One who aims to change the world through tradecraft.

Hidden Passive: +50% to all Renown gains generated through the Player Housing system.

Possible Advancement Paths: Tradesman, Oligarch, Caravanner, Black Marketeer.

I tapped my temple with my index finger. “Huh. That is…a lot of options. What do the Tier 2 paths do? Like, what do I get if I become an Expeditionary?”

“You're still too low for specifics,” Frank said, “but you'll start picking up unique abilities once you've selected a Tier 2 path. You need Renown Rank 7 for that.”

“Okay. So an Expeditionary would get an ability that made exploring easier?”

“Something like that,” Frank said. “Could be a passive, could be several active abilities.”

“Good to know,” I said. “I'm thinking we're gonna have to rule out Warlord, Frank.” I didn't actually think that—the option was surprisingly tempting—but messing with Frank was worth it.

Frank shrugged beside me. “I figured.”

I goggled down at him. “You're just gonna let that go?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “You've been steering away from that kinda stuff the whole time. I'm not surprised.”

“Huh.”

Frank was obviously still out of sorts after that last meet up with Kline, but he had a point. The quests I'd taken, the rewards I'd chosen…I hadn't put it all together until now, but I'd been moving pretty steadily away from the combat angle with the choices I'd made so far. And the great bulk of my Renown had come from other sources.

So maybe it made sense to double down on that. I had no intention of ignoring that aspect of the game, but the bottom line was that a Warlord was generally pretty useless if he couldn't field an army. And uh…I didn't have any friends.

And even if I just focused on the P.V.E side of the game—killing Rare mobs and all that—the whole everybody-wanting-me-dead thing might prove problematic in short order.

“So, that leaves Cleric, Explorer, and Merchant,” I said. “Exploring seems fun, but I don't really understand how you'd leverage that into power.” I scratched the back of my head. “Maybe you'd find better housing areas? Or grinding spots? Seems cool, but that's not really what I'm after. What's the deal with the Cleric path?”

“It's about founding or spreading a religion,” Frank said. “You can either pick up one of the N.P.C religions that already exist and spread it about, or try to found your own, which is a lot harder.”

“But what do they do?”

“Depends on the religion,” Frank said. “I've got a bit more info on them since you asked before. They've all got different advantages and disadvantages that apply to whoever is following them. So you might see a combat-based religion where the followers get flat boosts to their attack power, that sorta thing.”

I hesitated. “Oh man. That is way more awesome than I thought it would be. Okay, so Cleric's a serious contender.” I scanned the advancement paths, though I couldn't hazard much of a guess as to which did what. Crusader and Inquisitor both seemed like they were more combat-focused, while Missionary and Shepherd seemed more peaceful.

“So, Merchant,” I said. “That path gets a direct boost to Renown gains generated by the Housing system, which makes me think that the big trading payoffs in E.B.O are going to go through player-created structures and the like. We've already got a sizable leg up there just by virtue of being able to claim stuff before anybody else, plus we picked up that Innkeeper's Memento. And now we've got that seed from the World Tree.”

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

“I guess the question is really about which path is best suited for a solo player. Merchant seems like a particularly good fit for that.” I scrolled up and scoped out the advancement paths. “Tradesman is kinda vague, no idea what kind of abilities they might get. Maybe better vendor prices or something like that, similar to that first boost we picked. Kind of the same deal with Oligarch, but that's a type of leader, so maybe they get bonuses to leadership or the Follower system?”

“Could be,” Frank said.

“Then there's Caravanner, which sounds pretty cool. They probably focus on long-distance trade, which might be a decent fit for us given that we're going to be perpetually on the run pretty soon.” I winced. “If we can convince anybody to trade with us, that is. Man.”

“What?” Frank said.

“Head Start's almost over,” I said. “The hunt's about to begin. I guess I'm just worrying about what our game's going to look like when we've got an entire server gunning for us.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “That's gonna be problematic. Thankfully, you've got Frank.”

I grinned down at him, thrilled to see he was lightening up a bit. “Yeah. I really am glad you're here, Frank. Even if you do despise my general existence.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I definitely do. But…”

I raised an eyebrow.

Frank cleared his throat. “It could…” he said, trailing off.

“Spit it out, Frank.”

“But I guess I could have ended up being stuck with someone who was very slightly worse,” he said in a single breath. “Like a healer. Or a child.”

I snorted. “Hey, I'll take it. So, Caravanner looks cool, but it might depend on having friendly parties, which we can't guarantee. That just leaves Black Marketeer.” I clicked my tongue. “Black Marketeer…”

“You just said that,” Frank said.

“Uh huh,” I said, already lost in thought.

If a Caravanner got bonuses to long-distance trading, then what would a Black Marketeer get? Maybe an ability to conceal their identity? Or maybe their location?

In any case, black markets were never easy to find, and they operated from the shadows almost by definition.

“I'm thinking this last one looks the most promising,” I said. “Cleric still sounds cool, but the Merchant's black market angle is the only one that seems like it might help us stay under the radar when the shit really hits the fan. I really doubt the people who want me dead are going to be inclined to trade with us, so stealth or misdirection has to be a priority. I'm gonna scope out the Renown buffs real quick.”

“I got you.”

You may select 1 of 5 permanent Renown buffs:

1. A small percentage of all Renown you gain via combat is converted into Experience.

2. You receive a very slight amount of Renown whenever you earn a profession skill point.

3. You receive a slight amount of Renown whenever you uncover a new location in your mini map.

4. You gain a medium amount of Experience whenever your Housing Plots generate a set amount of currency.

5. You gain a medium amount of Experience whenever you directly convert a Follower to your religion.

“…Frank?”

“Hmm? Oh, right.”

“You sure you're okay?”

“I'll live,” Frank said. “Here ya go.”

You may select 1 of 5 permanent Renown buffs:

1. 5% of all Renown you gain via combat is converted into Experience.

2. You receive 2 Renown whenever you earn a profession skill point. This buff scales with player level.

3. You receive 4 Renown whenever you uncover a new location in your mini map. This buff scales with player level.

4. You gain 45 Experience whenever your Housing Plots generate 1 silver. This buff scales with player level.

5. You gain 45 Experience whenever you directly convert a Follower to your religion. This buff scales with player level.

“Ooh,” I said. “Man, I love being able to look under the hood. And speaking of hoods, some of these buffs look like engines.”

“Wow,” Frank said. “That was a truly terrible pun. Also, what?”

“These options all feed directly into the Renown paths above. If you went Warlord, you'd get 50% more Renown from combat, then you could pick up the first Renown buff to convert a bunch of that Renown into Experience to help you level up so you could kill more stuff and get more Renown, which would result in more Experience and so on.

“Same concept applies to the housing buff. If we generate Experience every time we make a certain amount of money, we could then reinvest that money into the Housing system to make even more money to generate more Experience. Engines. Awesome ones.”

“Too many words,” Frank said.

“I just think we need to be really careful here,” I said. “Whatever path we choose seems like it's going to drastically affect the way we generate Renown. Picking the wrong Renown buff to pair it with could really hurt, even if the choices there seem kinda obvious. At the very least, these two picks are going to determine what our optimal path to Renown is like going forward.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “Well, yeah, duh. I could've told you that in like, ten syllables. No, wait. Choose carefully, this is big. Seven syllables.”

I winked down at him. “Good to have you back, Frank.”

“Ugh.”

“Anyway, I'm still leaning toward Merchant because of the black market thing. And if we're going to do that, it seems like choosing anything other than the buff that turns silver into Experience would be shooting ourselves in the foot. The profession one kind of feels like it should fall under Merchant too, but I think Housing's gonna be better given how many Rare items we already have for that system.”

“Just keep in mind that it isn't just the Experience payout that scales with your level,” Frank said. “You're also going to need more money to trigger that reward as you level up.”

I winced. “Oof. Well, I guess that makes sense, but it does make that buff a little less powerful than I'd assumed. Still seems like the best choice. We need to create as much synergy as possible.”

“You want me to select those choices for you? Merchant plus the Housing buff?”

“Mmm. Go ahead and select those two, but let's not confirm anything yet. Do you have any info on the next zones?”

“Lore, yeah,” Frank said. “I've got stuff on Housing Availability, Climate, and Difficulty, too, but everybody will have access to those.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Any chance one of your entries mentions trading?”

“Three of them, yeah.”

“Hit me.”

Codex Entry 318: The Sapphire Reef

A barrier reef whose coral pillars are as beautiful as they are deadly and one of the most profitable shipping lanes around, the Sapphire Reef is littered with the ships of traders who proved unable to navigate its winding channels.

Housing Availability: High.

Climate: Tropical.

Zone Difficulty: Low.

Codex Entry 321: The Onyx Sands

A black sand desert boxed by two vast oceans, the Onyx Sands once boasted the greatest trading city this world has ever known. However, time has been unkind to the region, and the peerless trading empire that once dominated its windswept expanse now lies deep beneath the dunes.

Housing Availability: Low.

Climate: Arid.

Zone Difficulty: High.

Codex Entry 340: The Sulfur Pits

A volcanically active basin rich in minerals and fertile soil, the Sulfur Pits have been making Barons—and corpses—out of daring traders for hundreds of years.

Housing Availability: Average.

Climate: Tropical.

Zone Difficulty: Average.

The boat beside me rocked in the water—as if someone had just stepped onto it—but a quick look revealed that the N.P.C was still alone in the front of the boat. That was weird.

“Okay, all three of those places look interesting. Guess we should think about where people will head to first. Having Housing unlock early on makes it seem like the sort of thing people should prioritize, and if the other games I've played are any indication, that'll absolutely be the case here.”

“Ya,” Frank said. “It's a big part of the game. People might pay more attention to the difficulty option, though.”

“True,” I said. “People will probably flock to the easier areas, especially places like the reef where the zone's easy and there's ample housing. And I'd like to be around as few players as possible in the early days.”

“Strike it?” Frank said.

“Strike it.”

The prompt vanished, which was surprisingly satisfying. “Nice,” I said. “That leaves us with a difficult zone with low housing, and a zone that's more average.” I pursed my lips. “Well, if it's difficult, there's gotta be a reward for succeeding, right? This game definitely seems like it rewards you for taking chances.”

“Sure,” Frank said. “But that difficulty rating doesn't just mean the mobs are going to be stronger; it means the zone is harder across the board. Vendor prices might be high, the Housing Plots might be expensive, or they might be plagued by monsters or locusts or anything, really.”

“Can't lie,” I said, “that last bit is a little intriguing. But yeah, that's good to know. Maybe the pits are the better choice. Anything else you can talk about?”

“One big thing,” Frank said. “Though I can't say much about it.”

“Shoot.”

“Every zone's got a designated capital with a lot of room for Player Housing. There are some exceptions, but they're generally underdeveloped compared to the other cities. That leaves room for them to grow according to the Player Base's needs and so on.”

“That's awesome,” I said. “We get to shape the capitals?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “But settling in one of those will probably set us back for a bit compared to how well we'd be off somewhere else. 'Cause the other places would already have established economies, vendors, that sort of thing. Dormant capitals have potential, but other cities offer far more benefits now and in the near future.”

“More influential as time goes on,” I said. “Right?”

“Exactly,” Frank said. “You're becoming slightly less dumb by the hour, Ned.”

“Hey, thanks,” I said. “That was mostly complimentary.”

“I try,” Frank said. “The big thing, though, is that all of the capitals each get a Wonder eventually, though that's all the information I have on that.”

“A Wonder, huh?” I said. “Sounds promising. I dunno, picking the pits might be the smarter, safer choice, but it also seems like a bit of a cop-out. We've already got a huge advantage over everyone else in-game, so why not press it as much as possible?”

“Meaning the Onyx Sands?” Frank said.

“Uh huh. The low housing and high difficulty settings should put a lot of people off, too, so maybe we'll get some extra time to develop before more people show up.”

“Or it could cause people to rush the area thinking the few available spots have to be better somehow,” Frank said. “Scarcity and all.”

I nodded. “Fair point. But yeah, I'm still thinking the Sands if you're good for it.”

“Why not?” Frank said.

I didn't see any buttons or anything on the pedestal, so I shut it and stepped away. Then I opened my Renown Path and gave it one last glance, just to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Then I confirmed my choices.

World-first Alert!

Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) is the first Player to select a Tier 1 Renown path!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to select a Tier 1 Renown path!

Awarding Title: {The First Merchant}!

{The First Merchant} (Unique Title)

While on a Formal Trading Run, all vehicles/vessels you own move 5% faster.

“Man,” I said, “that never gets old. And trade runs? Vehicles? I'm really liking the direction this is heading.” I stepped down into the waiting boat, which rocked from side to side as I seated myself on the nearest bench.

“Where you headed?” the N.P.C said. His voice was gravelly and rough, and he still didn't look at me.

“The Onyx Sands,” I said.

“Onyx Sands!” the N.P.C yelled to no one in particular.

A pair of men dressed in white linen walked up beside the boat with huge clay pots in hand. One of them set his pot down and stepped onto the boat, and the two of them loaded their urns in and quickly secured them with ropes and knots.

“What's that about?” I said, more to Frank than anyone else.

But one of the loading N.P.C's was quicker to respond. “Fresh water fetches a hefty mark-up out in the Sands,” he said. “No sense in sending an empty boat across the ocean when there's room for goods.”

I nodded. “How long's this going to take?”

“Just another minute or two,” the N.P.C said while his partner went and fetched another urn. They loaded another six into the boat, tying each of them to the sides and spreading them out to disperse the weight. By then the boat was riding low, the railings only inches from the water's surface.

“Last call for the Onyx Sands,” the navigator said. He waited a few moments, then grabbed a long wooden pole from within the boat and pushed off the dock right as the other two men untied it.

The small vessel drifted into the center of the harbor, coasting between the fishing boats and gliding through water that was as smooth as glass. Once we neared the edge of the harbor—and the open ocean, where the waves were breaking in earnest—the N.P.C approached the lone mast and undid a series of knots, unfurling the main sail.

I rocked back in my seat as the boat lurched forward, the wind lashing my face.

“How long is this gonna take?” I said.

“The ride?” Frank said. “All night, basically.”

I goggled down at him. “You're kidding.”

“I am not kidding,” Frank said. “It's a big world.��

“So what am I supposed to do for the next twelve hours?” I said.

“Log out?” Frank said. “That's what a normal person would do.”

“…But I don't wanna.”

“Wow, whine harder.”

“What else you got for me? Professions? Anything I can do to improve during this ride?”

“You could sleep,” Frank said. “Your in-game body won't get tired or anything like that, but your skull mush still needs its rest. I'm really surprised you haven't been crashing harder than you have so far, honestly. I'd have thought you'd be dead on your feet right now with how hard it is to acclimate to this system.”

“Yeah,” I said, yawning at the mere mention of sleep. “Dopamine's been keeping me going. That and just knowing I'll never be able to do this again. Honestly, I felt really guilty for sleeping last night at all, but I do feel a little out of it now that you mention it.”

“I bet. Plus you'll get another round of skill ups if you pass out for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're right. I hate it, but you're right.”

“I'm always right,” Frank said. “I am omnipotent and all-powerful.”

“That's wildly redundant.” I lay down in the bottom of the boat and tugged my hood over my face. Then I sent House a quick message about the starter area we'd chosen and asked for an update on her level. She was apparently already level 3, closing in on 4.

“You're really gonna stay in-game, huh?” Frank said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Why wouldn't you?” Frank said. “You're just going to sleep, man. You seriously expect me to believe you'd rather sleep in the bottom of a sailboat than in your own bed?”

I looked up at the night sky, where the stars shone brighter than I'd ever seen before. My bed was obviously preferable in a vacuum, but I didn't want to go back. Didn't want to have the illusion broken, didn't want to wake up in the morning and be anywhere but here. I wanted this to be my world, for better or worse.

“I dunno,” I said, because explaining all of that to Frank seemed impossible. “It's complicated.”

“You really hate reality that much? Enough that you'll never go back?”

“I don't know about never,” I said. “Never is a pretty strong word. But yeah, I guess I do. This is the happiest I've been in a really long time.”

The boat thumped and I sat bolt upright, casting about for answers because it almost sounded like we'd hit something. A series of similar thumps followed, as if someone was running at me from the other side of the boat, then the air in front of me went all blurry.

A dagger resolved first, then a wrist, a forearm, an elbow, a bicep that was attached to the shoulder of a very pissed off Woodbone Fae dressed in black leather.

He roared as he lunged forward, a strange green light swirling around his dagger.

I activated Souldrift on pure instinct and my body became incorporeal, replaced with a hazy swirl of purple vapor. I shot backward and had to cancel the spell a split-second later—I very quickly reached the end of the boat—but the retreat allowed me to get to my feet and summon my staff.

The Woodbone stumbled toward me, having expected to meet some kind of resistance but finding none.

I whipped my staff sideways and caught him upside the temple, sending him stumbling toward the left side of the boat, and a follow up strike sent him splashing into the water.

He surfaced and immediately latched onto the side of the small craft, though his dagger was nowhere to be seen. He tried to haul himself up, but I put a stop to that by jabbing him in the face with my staff.

“You…” the Woodbone said, trailing off as he got a mouthful of seawater.

“Me?” I said. “What about me?”

The Woodbone grinned. “You will never rest. Not once, not for the rest of your days. We'll shadow you wherever you go, for as long as it takes.”

I drove my staff down into his chest and pushed him beneath the water.

He came up gasping, fingers fighting for purchase on the rail of the boat. “You think—”

The Woodbone cut off as I smashed one of his hands, and he reflexively released his grip, splashing into the water and immediately drifting behind the boat.

“We're coming for you,” he said. “And when we find you, The Gardener will see to it that your end is long and miserable.” He turned and swam for the shore but turned back to level a long finger in my direction. “We'll see you on the sands, traitor.”

“Oh, shit!” I said, my heart skipping a beat. “That…does not seem promising. I really, really should have killed that guy.”

“Wouldn't have made a difference,” Frank said. “They already know where you're headed. They had spies on the docks.”

“Wait…can they really leave the starter zone?” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Frank said. “You radically altered their fate. So, now everything's fair game.”

I covered my face with both hands. Setting up a merchant empire was starting to seem a lot more difficult. “And you're telling me this now?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “'Cause I couldn't before. But now you won't beat yourself up about letting that assassin escape.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough. I guess that does help. But what… Oh. I've got an idea. Uh, captain?” I said, leaning forward and shouting to the N.P.C at the helm of the boat.

“Yes?” he said.

“Change of plans. Let's make for the Sulfur Pits.”

“The route can't be changed once the destination has been confirmed,” the N.P.C said. “Already got goods on board.”

“Bah,” I said. “Oh well, it was worth a shot. Hey, Frank, how far are the Pits from the Sands?”

“Far,” Frank said.

I winced. I didn't like the idea of wasting more time traveling, but the prospect of having to spend the entirety of my time in the Sands looking over my shoulder was far, far worse. “So maybe we catch another boat from the Sands once we've arrived? Throw the Fae off our trail for good?”

“Nope,” Frank said. “Not gonna be able to afford it. Your ride out of the starter zone is always free, but you gotta pay from then on. I can't tell you exactly how much a ride somewhere else would cost but trust me, it's out of our budget. And it's gonna stay out of our budget for a long, long time.”

I sank back down onto the boat. Then jumped back to my feet and searched every inch of it with my staff, prodding each nook and cranny in turn.

I laid back down when I was satisfied we were alone, though I did shoot a quick glance back toward the shore and was relieved not to see sailboats already in pursuit.

“So we're heading to one of the most difficult early areas in the game,” I said.

“Yup.”

“And we're being tailed by a vengeful race that's hellbent on our destruction.”

“Yup,” Frank repeated.

“And we've got about thirty-six hours before the rest of the player base joins us, at which point we'll be surrounded by tens of thousands of real-world people who are also hellbent on our destruction.”

“Uhhh huh. That is the gist of it.”

I closed my eyes. “There's gonna be a lot of blood in our future, huh?”

“So much blood,” Frank said. “It's gonna be awesome.”

Chapter Nineteen

My hip vibrated, and Frank mumbled something totally incomprehensible.

I squinted around at the early morning light, then closed my eyes. The sun was warm on my skin and the ocean breeze was ruffling my hair and the boat was rocking and it was really, really nice.

“I said, good morning sunshine!” Frank said, at the very top of his lungs or whatever it was he had.

I groaned and pressed my face up against the inside of the boat, where it was cool and dark.

“Sunshine,” Frank said. “You just slept for almost twelve hours without even budging. Wake up. We're here.”

System Alert: The Head Start period ends in 23 hours.

“Oh,” I said, snapping awake almost all at once as Frank's words fully registered. The prompt helped, too.

The feeling was a little strange. My body felt ready to go, but my head was still foggy. Wasn't a bad feeling, just strange. And I couldn't wait to get my first look at the Onyx Sands.

I sat up and a series of changelog prompts streamed in.

Congratulations, {Ravenbolt} has reached rank: Novice 3!

{Ravenbolt} (Rank: Novice 3)

Damage increased from 72 to 78!

Mana cost increased from 40 to 50!

Current rank: Cast time decreased by .5 seconds.

Next rank: {Ravenbolt} now decreases your target's movement speed by 15% for 3 seconds. This effect may stack up to 3 times.

Congratulations, {Roots of the Underworld Tree} has reached rank: Novice 3!

{Roots of the Underworld Tree} (Rank: Novice 3)

Damage per tick increased from 2 to 3!

Cooldown decreased from 14 seconds to 13 seconds!

Mana cost increased from 35 to 45!

Current rank: Cooldown reduced by 2 seconds.

Next rank: {Roots of the Underworld Tree} now has a 33% chance to silence your target for 2.5 seconds.

Congratulations, {Horrify} has reached rank: Novice 3!

{Horrify} (Rank: Novice 3)

Mana cost increased from 50 to 60!

Current rank: Damage you deal is 20% less likely to break this effect.

Next rank: Targets afflicted by {Horrify} now suffer 30% additional damage from all sources.

Congratulations, {Soulshatter} has reached rank: Novice 2!

{Soulshatter} (Rank: Novice 2)

Damage increased from 81 to 85!

Mana cost increased from 25 to 30!

Current rank: Nearby targets now take 60% of the original spell's damage.

Next rank: Nearby targets now take 70% of the original spell's damage.

Congratulations, {Souldrift} has reached rank: Novice 2!

Mana cost increased from 20 to 25!

Current rank: Drift range is now increased by 3 feet.

Next rank: Drift range is now increased by 5 feet.

“Nothing like a shot of progression to start the day,” I said as I dismissed the prompts.

I kept my eyes mostly shut—the sun was incredibly bright, and it was shimmering off the turquoise waters in blinding fashion—but the Onyx Sands were only about a hundred feet away, where a series of massive, windswept dunes framed the shoreline for as far as I could see.

The visual contrast between the bright waters and the stark dunes was beyond stunning as we drifted toward a single small dock, where three N.P.C's wearing knee-length red and gold tunics waited beside a camel-drawn carriage painted with an ornate crest in the same colors.

A pair of neutral guards stood to either side of the carriage, both in full plate with the same tunics. Each of the two held a halberd in one hand and their helmet in another, no doubt a concession to the heat.

And a player stood at the very end of the dock, a green name tag floating above her head.

House.

“Oh man,” I said. “She actually made it.” I paused. “Wait, she already made it? She's already here? She finished her starter area?”

“Apparently so,” Frank said. “Pretty fast.”

“Shoot me straight, Frank,” I said. “Kline said I was behind schedule, but how much did our starter area slow us down level-wise?”

“A lot in the short term,” Frank said. “But relative to our specific area you finished it pretty fast, and you picked up way, way more Renown than anyone could reasonably expect to get. Plus all the drops.”

“So we did good?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “And House leveled fast, too. Even for the area she chose.”

I squinted at House. She'd chosen a short character model with bronze skin, and she wore a loose green shirt that hung off her left shoulder and baggy white trousers that cut off just above her ankles.

“Huh,” I said. “We had her roll a Shielddancer, right?”

“Yup.”

“And that's a physical class with substantial defense.”

“Uh huh.”

“And she's wearing what appears to be cloth. And she has no weapons.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “Good point.”

The captain guided the boat in, using his long paddle to maneuver the craft through the breakers. The boat bumped sideways up against the dock, so I hopped out. After which the awaiting N.P.C's took to unloading the urns of fresh water while both of the guards glared in my direction as if my mere presence wronged them somehow.

“Hey House!” I said, giving her a broad smile. “Welcome to the new world!”

“Hello, sir,” she said, with a face that was beyond emotionless; only her lips had even budged. She stood entirely still, her motionless posture further emphasized by the waves breaking behind her.

I scratched the back of my head. “Well, you're here, so that's something.”

“I am indeed here, sir,” she said.

Frank cleared his throat.

“Oh right, sorry,” I said. “House, this is Frank. He's an axe that talks.”

“Undersell of the century,” Frank muttered. “Anyway, hi, I'm Frank.”

“Hello,” House said. “I am House.”

I winced.

“Is something amiss, sir?” House said.

“You just… Never mind.” She seemed particularly robotic to me, but I couldn't help but think I may have just gotten used to talking to Frank. “Did you have any trouble getting here?”

“I did not,” House said.

I cocked an eyebrow down at Frank.

“There is, however, one major issue I would like to raise.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“May I strike you, sir?”

“Strike me?” I said.

“Physically,” House said.

“Uhhh…sure?”

“Thank you.” Her fist blurred into motion, and before I knew what was happening, my head was snapping back.

But there was no pain at all, and I looked up to see a 0 floating up above my head. House's nametag was flashing purple, so that seemed like the P.V.P system had engaged.“Huh,” I said. “Hit for 0?”

“Indeed,” House said. “I arrived on this continent forty-three minutes ago, and I therefore tried to maximize my time by exterminating some of the local fauna, as reducing the Health values of various organisms to zero appears to be the core progression parameter of this game.

“Unfortunately, I was exactly two-thirds of the way through a kill when my equipment vanished and I became too weak to engage in combat, resulting in my first death.”

“It disappeared?” I said. “Did a monster eat it or something?”

“No sir, not that I'm aware of,” House said. “It all simply vanished.”

“Uh oh,” I said. “I bet this is the nerf that Kline was babbling about.”

“Who, sir?” House said.

“Kline,” I said, spitting the name. “He said he was nerfing something right before he ran away and apparently he was talking about you. Kline!” I said, yelling his name up at the sky because that felt right. “Kline, get down here! I know you're watching!”

“Are we gonna see my dad again?” Frank said, but he sounded more worried than hopeful. Maybe he still thought he was in trouble.

“Kline!” I repeated. “We had a deal!”

A dry pop sounded from off to my left and there he was, still in that same pair of white pants and nothing else.

I shoved a finger into his face. “What the hell did you do this time?”

He shrugged. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his shoulders were sagging. “I didn't have a choice. I don't have time for this.”

“We had an agreement.”

He rubbed his face. “And I'm doing my best to keep it. I told you the integrity of the game came first, didn't I?” He looked at House, and he seemed to visibly brighten. “You should have seen her play. It was like watching a supercomputer play chess for the first time. Just…brutal, calculated efficiency.

“I tried everything. I reduced her stats, I added latency to her actions, tried to hamstring her in every conceivable way, but it just didn't matter. She shrugged off everything I threw at her and raced through every mob and quest in her path without taking a single extra step along the way.” He met my eyes. “She never got hit, Ned. Not a single time across her entire starter area. It was like watching a speed runner after a decade of practice.”

“But you've already got her code downloaded, huh?” I said. “You got what you wanted, so now you're backing out.”

Kline sighed. “I'm sure that's how it looks to you. And no, I didn't download her code. That's not a thing you can do with an A.I this advanced. I also understand why you're upset.

I'll have the notes I made on House returned to you if that's what you want, but we both know I can't unsee them. But just look at her for a moment.”

I humored him and glanced at House.

“Does she seem human to you?” he said. “Balance issues aside, do you honestly think there's even the slightest chance she won't stick out like a sore thumb in every crowd, ever? I had to start her off from scratch in order to integrate her into the game—like a personality reset—but I never thought she'd come out this flat. She couldn't even pass for an N.P.C if she tried.”

I frowned, because he wasn't wrong. If anything, House had even less of a personality here than she did back in the real world. “House, have you been trying to act human?”

“No sir,” House said. “I was unaware that feigning personhood was a requirement. I was simply told to level as quickly as possible with an eye toward completing my starter area.”

I turned back to Kline. “You can't use her lack of humanity as a cop out if you never told her that was a problem. Try again.”

“Fine,” he said. “Look, balancing her isn't as easy as I thought it would be, either. I thought I'd just be able to give her a set of limitations to abide by and she'd handle everything on her end, but she's much more advanced than anything I've dealt with.”

I gestured around at the world he'd created. “Bullshit. You've got an A.I in charge of this place, don't you? And you made Frank, too, but you expect me to believe that House is totally incomprehensible?”

Kline gave me a patronizing smile. “Yes, A.I's do run this world. Several thousand of them, in fact, all working in tandem. She's a drop in the bucket compared to their totality, sure. But she outstrips them all on a one-to-one basis.

“It really boils down to this,” he continued. “I don't. Have. The time. I still think I can make this work eventually, but I can't spend the entire day before launch trying to make sure you have a friend to play with. Right now she's just too fast, too efficient. Her reaction speed, questing efficiency, combat skills, the fact that she doesn't need to sleep…everything. It's too much to balance on short notice. It's way too much.”

“What did you do, exactly?” I said.

“I deleted all of her gear, loot, and currency, then removed her combat abilities. But I left everything else in place.”

“Everything else,” I said, and the words came out bitter. “So she's level what, 5?”

“I am level 5,” House said, robotic as ever.

“But she can't actually do anything, can she?” I continued.

Kline rolled his eyes. “Letting her keep her levels is an enormous deal. She still has access to professions, as well as the Player Housing system. “Look. I'm not proud of this, but I was so excited about seeing the E.X.11—let alone getting to work with it—that I bit off more than I could chew. But I'm still trying to preserve the spirit of our agreement. In as much as that doing so is even possible.”

“Well, you didn't,” I said. “I was supposed to have a duoing partner. This is not that.”

“True,” he said. “And I regret it didn't work out that way, but like I said, the game comes first.”

I rubbed at my temples. This was a crock of shit, obviously. But the worst part? I could understand where he was coming from.

Despite the fact that House had the personality of a two-by-four, she'd already proven to be more capable than a human player when it came to combat. Obviously, that was a nonstarter.

“I'll give it another go once the launch is behind us and I have more time,” Kline said. “But for now, keeping her out of combat should be enough to not cause balance issues in the short term, so this is what you get. I also need a couple other things if you want to keep her around.”

“Of course you do,” I said.

“She can't engage in combat at all once other players join,” he said. “Her reflexes are just too good. That's the easy part.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “No combat. In an M.M.O. Where you gain power through combat.”

“Also,” he said, “she needs to learn to pass for human. We can play that part by ear, but the moment I hear anyone questioning what she is—or if I even think someone is questioning what she is—she's out for good.”

I looked to House, who was still standing there like a mannequin. She wasn't even breathing. “Ugh.”

“Yeah,” Kline said. “My thoughts exactly. But I'll level with you here. A big part of the reason she's still in-game is that same lack of humanity.”

“…What?” I said.

“I already told you that I have a hard time controlling my more humanlike N.P.C's, right?”

“Yeah?” I said. “They become unstable, unpredictable, whatever.”

“Exactly,” Kline said. “But House is entirely controllable, even here,” he said. “Maybe even to a fault. So if she can develop a personality in-game without acting out or becoming unstable over time…do you see where I'm going with this? Studying her progress could help me make this world even better. It could improve the authenticity of my quest givers by leaps and bounds. If I had more control, I could give every single N.P.C in this world an actual life—even a detailed personality—instead of just the few who require it.

“Imagine it, no matter where you looked, no matter how hard you scrutinized the game, you'd just see people everywhere going about their business, and nothing would ever break your immersion. You might not even be able to tell an N.P.C from a player were it not for their nameplates. And even though we rarely see eye to eye, I think you want this game to succeed almost as badly as I do. This could be a huge step in that direction.”

I sighed. “And I thought agreeing with Frank felt bad. Fine, we'll try.”

“Great,” Kline said. “Now, I've got things to do. So figure it out.” He popped away.

“You've gotta be kidding me right now,” I said. “All that talking and he's not even gonna help?” I looked around at the strange, dark sands, at the imposing dunes that rose before me, a knot of uncertainty forming in my gut.

Coming here had already felt like a mistake from the moment that Woodbone had jumped me on my way over, and now I was to going to have to bash my head against one of the hardest leveling zones completely on my own while being stalked by a bunch of murderous fairy people.

“I apologize for this turn of events, sir,” House said. “Given the variables that my presence has introduced, it seems statistically likely that I am in some way responsible.”

“Not your fault.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “But House? Can you do me a favor?”

“What do you require?” House said.

“Can you stop calling me sir? It just…it was fine when you were an actual house. But you can't be calling people sir in a videogame.”

House twitched. “Is this in regard to me passing for human?”

“Yeah,” I said, sighing. “It is in regard to that. Consider not using the word sir to be lesson one.”

“I understand your request,” House said. “And I shall abide by it.”

I barked a laugh. Couldn't help it. “Oh man,” I said. “We are doomed. Hey Frank?” I said. “You still alive down there?”

“Uh huh,” he said.

“Pretty quiet for a talking axe,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It's all good,” I said, because I figured Kline turning up had bummed him out again. Probably didn't feel great to be obsessed with someone who totally ignored your existence.

I stepped off the dock and onto the black sand, which was firm and surprisingly hot, so much so that I felt the heat emanating through my sandals. The N.P.C's were still unloading the urns, packing them into the awaiting carriage while the camels took turns spitting onto the sand. “Do you think you could help me out on the human-making front with House?”

“Lemme get this straight,” Frank said. “You're asking your axe to help your house become more human?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I am. If I didn't know any better, I'd just think you were a guy with a headset who was talking through an axe. I figure you understand what House is up against way better than I do, and you come off as totally human.”

“Really?” Frank said, perking up a bit. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” I said. “It blew my mind when we first met. I would have told you that right from the get-go if you hadn't been such a jerk early on.”

“Ha, I was a jerk, wasn't I?” Frank said. “Good times.”

“I, too, would appreciate your assistance, Axe,” House said. She looked to me. “Is axe an acceptable honorific?”

“Just call me Frank,” Frank said. “Or your majesty, either way.”

“Very well Frank or your majesty, either way,” House said.

There was an awkward pause, and I could tell Frank was trying not to laugh. “Really Frank?” I said. “That's the opposite of helping.”

“…Just call me Frank,” Frank said.

“Understood,” House said.

“But sure,” Frank said. “I can help her out.”

“Appreciate it,” I said. I opened up my mini map, searching for the nearest town. I only had one location revealed so far, but the name gave me pause. “The Withered Vale?” I said. “Is that a city?”

“That's the capital of the Sands, meaning it's currently a rundown rural village with hardly any infrastructure,” Frank said. “So if that's what you're after, then yeah. If not, I could direct you to one of the other ones that are a bit livelier.”

Seemed a little odd that the capital would have such an underdeveloped harbor. I'd expected the dockyard to be at least a little busier than the fishing village I'd left behind.

I spotted an option I hadn't seen before in my mini map—a Housing Plot overlay—so I threw that on and was rewarded with a few dozen purple circles clustered around the outskirts of the Withered Vale and several more scattered throughout the city proper.

“Yeah, I think we start there,” I said. I shuffled my way up the dark dunes, throwing a glance back over my shoulder once I was halfway up and stopping dead in my tracks.

House still stood at the docks, staring off into space.

“Oh man,” I said. “This is going to be a lot more difficult than I realized.”

“Gotta be jarring to have a body all of a sudden,” Frank said. “You said she's been your security system, right? So she's never really existed in space.”

“True.” I scratched my chin. “Maybe thinking of her as a duoing partner was even farther off the mark than I realized.”

“I'd say that's pretty obvious given she was just banned from engaging in combat,” Frank said.

“I mean before that happened,” I said. “Look at the plan we came up with. We're going to try to focus on the economic side of things early on. So maybe we should be thinking of House as more of a facilitator. Or an admin. That's more her wheelhouse, anyway.”

“Oh God, make it stop,” Frank said.

“What?”

“Wheelhouse? Wheelhouse?”

“Oh, that's a good one!” I said. “But no, unintentional.”

“Sure it was.”

I waved House toward me, and she took off at a dead run, charging all the way up the dune and jerking to a stop directly in front of me, only about two feet away.

“Yes?” House said. I could almost feel the sir hanging in the air. But at least it didn't seem like that was going to be a problem.

“C'mon.” I turned and started back up the dunes, following a little path where the sand had been trampled into firmness, a ribbon-like trail about four feet wide with deep ruts to either side and camel prints in the middle. Thankfully, House actually followed this time. I stopped for a breather as I reached the top of the dune, and the Withered Vale came into focus.

The city had been built atop and around four large dunes, with the vast majority of its buildings clustered near the high ground, all of which had been constructed from a type of white stone that was jarringly bright against the dark sand. A few tall palms stood out as well, their bright green leaves lending a splash of much-needed color.

The city was divided into four sections, and while I could tell even from this far out that the tops of each dune were full of people going about their days given the shouts that were already reaching me, there was very little activity in the valleys between the four dunes, and no buildings to speak of whatsoever.

There were eight towers as well, narrow stone structures that were maybe thirty feet tall. Each of them had been built in pairs, and they served as anchor points for a series of rope bridges that crisscrossed the city, serving as elevated walkways that hung high above the valleys.

A ring of ruins stretched far beyond the bustling parts of the city, a great expanse of half-buried arches and roofs that reached all the way down to the gaps between the dunes below, little splashes of white poking out of the sand.

“Home sweet home, huh?” I said. “Looks, uh…sandy.”

“So sandy,” Frank said.

“I also notice the sand,” House said.

I rubbed my forehead and fought down the urge to groan. “Let's head in and see what we've got to work with.” I pulled up my mini map, threw the housing filter on again, and picked my way through the ruins, vaulting collapsed archways and hopping between slabs of white stone. “How many plots do we get?”

“You each get three plots to start,” Frank said.

“You therefore have a grand total of six plots to claim,” House said.

“Thanks, House.”

A few minutes of walking brought us to a white stone gatehouse, where two guards in plate armor overlaid by blue and gold tunics were posted. Another camel-led caravan headed out the same way, so I stepped off what apparently passed for the road and made for one of the many gaps in the wall instead. Maybe three-quarters of it was still standing, so we didn't have to go far, though more guards were posted at the larger gaps.

The city streets were narrow but full of people clad in bright silks and cottons, the roadways framed with buildings the sands had reclaimed to varying degrees. The architecture was elegant where it was exposed—clean lines with minimal detail—but the windows were wonders, all of them framed with sapphire glass that was a dead ringer for the ocean, which I could still hear crashing off beyond the low dunes.

Two children crawled out of a half-buried window and ran across the street, laughing and twirling about.

I took a deep breath. The air smelled of salt and citrus—lime, maybe?—and the sand was warm through my sandals. “I like it,” I said. “It seems like it's got potential.”

I cast an eye up at one of the rope bridges above, where two men rolled a barrel across the span to my left, the bridge swaying slightly in the wind.

“Great,” Frank said. “Because again, we can't afford to fast travel anywhere else.”

“Right.” I paused. I hadn't heard House speak since she'd entered the city. I turned and found her standing directly behind me, mere inches away, so close that I startled.

“Have I erred in some way?” House said, likely reading my face. Well, hopefully, but probably not.

“Uh,” I said. “You need to give people more space than that. Try studying people as we go. They might give you a decent baseline on how to act.”

“Understood,” House said. She squinted around at the many villagers, blond brows furrowed in concentration.

We entered a market on our way to what the mini map flagged as one of the four main housing areas, a narrow street full of barrels to either side, each of them brimming over with colorful spices, and the merchants were hawking their wares nonstop, shouting prices at each and every passerby.

There were other goods as we threaded our way through the crowd: wicked-looking weapons resting on velvet cushions; bolts of fabric displayed so that when taken as a whole, they formed a rainbow where the colors blurred together beautifully.

We ducked beneath a stone archway and popped out beyond the stone wall, facing one of the valleys between the four dunes. While at first glance it seemed like we'd taken a wrong turn at some point, my mini map said otherwise.

“Are we in the right place?” I said. Then I spotted a brown wooden sign sticking up out of the sand. A piece of sun-bleached paper was pinned to it, confirming the area could be claimed by a player. “I guess so.”

Now that I knew what to look for, I spotted a number of plots in quick succession, maybe twenty of them hugging the wall as it wrapped around the top of the dune. I squinted across the valley beyond and noticed more stakes on the opposite side.

“Are they all like this?”

“Empty?” Frank said. “Yes.”

“Huh.” I threw my overlay back up, scanning the city. A handful of plots appeared to be sprinkled near the center of the dune I was currently on, but the vast majority of them were indeed situated outside the city walls. “Frank?”

“What now?”

I leaned up against the white wall, which was surprisingly cool to the touch, and House took up a position a few feet away, mimicking my pose exactly.

“I think I need some help here,” I said. “I don't want to burn a ton of time looking for Housing, and I want to claim the full six spots between me and House. Can you tell me anything about this city? It seems like we're in the market district or something like that, but what are the other dunes like?”

“They're Wards,” Frank said. “And yeah, this is the Commerce Ward. It's got shops, inns, stalls, that sorta stuff. We're in the southeast quadrant right now, so if you took a rope bridge north, you'd enter the Military Ward. The guards are quartered there, plus there's an armory and a couple homes for the higher-ups. It's pretty empty, and aside from the housing beyond the wall, there's not much to see just yet.

“If you took a bridge west from there, you'd hit the Residential Ward. It's got a lot of Player Housing within the walls, but then you're kinda living in the suburbs. Won't be much else around aside from other players eventually.”

I crossed my arms. “Doesn't sound like a great fit. I want as few players settling near me as possible, and I'd like to be within the city walls.” I dropped my arms to my sides. House had just crossed hers, and it was making me uncomfortable. Then she copied that gesture too, and I gave up.

“Thought so,” Frank said. “The quadrant to the south of the Residential Ward and west of where we currently are is the King's Ward. That's where the Merchant Kings who run this city are holed up. It's fancy.”

I ducked back through the archway and headed for the nearest tower. “Now that sounds promising.” I threw my mini map up, but it didn't look like that quadrant had any available plots whatsoever. “No Housing out that way?”

“Nah,” Frank said. “Like I said, fancy. Which you are not.”

I reached one of the towers, which was open to the air on all four sides with a spiral staircase in its center. There was what looked like a pully system tucked into one of the corners, too, complete with a little platform that the locals probably used to ferry goods up and down.

“I'd still like to check that quadrant out,” I said. I climbed the staircase and stepped out onto the wooden walkway with House close behind, which I did not love. The entire bridge was already swaying from side to side, and upon closer inspection, the boards were spaced fairly far apart.

Thankfully, there were a pair of ropes to hold onto, and House was surprisingly steady on her feet. I made it about halfway across the bridge before an armored guard headed my way from the other side.

He held up a hand as if to stop me in place, so I waited for him to approach.

This one wore a yellow tunic with golden accents, though the plate beneath was identical to that of the other guards I'd seen.

“Do you have business here?” the guard said.

“I do,” I said.

“Name?”

“Ned,” I said.

“I am House,” House said.

“I am Frank,” Frank whispered, thankfully.

The guard pulled a slim paper scroll out from a pocket in his tunic and shook his head. “Neither of you are on today's list. If you wish to visit the King's Ward, you'll need a sponsor to make an appointment for you.” He nodded, as if he were dismissing us, then spun on his heel and left. So apparently that was exactly what he was doing.

“Gonna be a while before we can get there,” Frank said. “Would have mentioned it, but you know the deal by now.”

I doubled back toward the Commerce Ward. “Yeah, figured. So, that's a no go for now. I really wanna get this Housing stuff sorted so I can get back to leveling though. So it's either Military, Residential, or Commerce, and that's an easy choice if we plan on making money.

Let's go see what we can find near the spice market. Seems like the Commerce Ward might be a good spot to post up if we can find the right location.”

Once I was back on the ground and within the walls, I wandered up and down the ward's narrow streets, checking for plots while cross-referencing my mini map and breathing in the cinnamon-scented air.

There were eighteen plots in total within the walls, and they were arranged into three clusters of six. The first cluster was quite close to the spice market, a single-file line of plots that butted up against the city wall and sat right next to one of the rope bridge towers.

That was prime real estate for sure—and a high traffic area to boot, meaning any shops I created would enjoy more traffic—but that was also a problem. Higher traffic meant more players, and more players meant more trouble. I wanted something a bit more under the radar, something a bit less likely to get me killed.

The second cluster of plots was much more loosely organized, a series of six plots interspersed between various N.P.C shops and stalls. That was interesting—breaking things up was one way to blend in—but the cluster was still out in the open, and I didn't love the idea of having six fully independent spots.

The third cluster was a little removed from the market proper and was the most tightly grouped of the three. All six of the available plots were arranged in a rectangle that was two plots wide and three plots deep, and the entire cluster was sandwiched between a pair of two-story stone buildings with the back of a third building behind it.

It almost looked like a section of row housing with one of the buildings removed. Maybe the developers intended for someone to put a larger building here? And that gave me an idea.

“Frank,” I said, “how big are the player buildings?”

“Depends on what you wanna make,” he said. “They're categorized by how many plots they require. So a house or a farm would only require a single slot, but a Guild Hall would require six or more.”

I nodded, something like a plan beginning to form. “And are there any notable buildings that require two plots?”

“Plenty,” Frank said.

I stepped into the cluster, examining the surrounding buildings. None of them had any windows facing my potential plots, and that seemed particularly encouraging.

I ran back out to the road and peeked at the adjacent buildings, each of which had wooden signs hanging above their front doors. The building on the left was a general goods store, and the building on the right sold plate armor.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Alright. So what do you think about this, Frank: if House and I claim these six plots, we'd only have two of them facing the street. So we could jam a building here between the general goods vendor and the heavy armor vendor, which would create a little hidden courtyard in the back that nobody else had access to. It's not a perfect solution, given that people will still be able to see whatever we put up front, but it lets us claim the full six while only having to worry about two of them being discovered.”

“That could work,” Frank said.

“Alright,” I said. “Let's do it.” I headed back to where House was still standing like my weirdly motionless doppelganger. I sighed. “Alright House, you ready to grab some land?”

“I am ready.” She knelt and made claws with both hands, then craned her head up at me. “How much land shall I grab?”

“Two handfuls,” Frank said before I could respond.

House snatched up a bunch of sand. “Mission accomplished.”

Frank snickered at my hip.

“Frank,” I said, laughing despite myself. “That's still not helpful. That is still the opposite of helpful.”

“I am aware,” Frank said, all robot-like.

“House,” I said, still laughing, “you can put the sand down now. Thanks for grabbing that.”

She cocked her head at me and let the black sand trail through her fingers. “Have I erred in some way? Again?”

“No,” I said. “Well, kind of. When I said grab some land, I meant…” I said, trailing off. “Never mind. We're gonna claim these Housing Plots.”

House stood upright in one jarring motion, almost like a jack-in-the-box. “Very well. Which shall I claim?”

“Why don't you claim the two in the very back,” I said, “plus the middle one on the right. And I'll claim the rest.”

House nodded. “I am ready to proceed.”

I pulled up the housing overlay and was promptly rewarded with a claim button, so I selected the three plots I'd indicated and nodded to House.

Congratulations, you claimed a Housing Plot!

Congratulations, you claimed a Housing Plot!

Congratulations, you claimed a Housing Plot!

“I have claimed the maximum number of plots as agreed upon,” House said.

“Great,” I said. “Good job, House. Alright, let's—”

System Alert: A Barbarian Raid has spawned nearby!

I cocked an eyebrow down at Frank. “Barbarians?”

“Huh,” Frank said. “I was really, really hoping that wouldn't happen. But now that it's happened, I can say that that's a thing that can happen.”

“Safe to assume we did that?”

“Oh yeah,” Frank said. “Entirely our fault.”

I sighed and ran out of the empty courtyard, nearly colliding with a squadron of six guards in full plate, one of whom shouted at the locals to take cover. Curiously, these six were wearing gray tabards.

A new prompt came in, then.

New Repeatable Encounter: {The Barbarian Menace}!

Objective: Repel the Barbarian raid before it reaches the village!

Reward: Proportionate to contribution level and Barbarian spawn level.

Failure Penalty: Player-owned/N.P.C-owned structures within the encounter's zone of effect may become damaged, vastly reducing their yields/goods on offer. If the encounter is failed, this penalty may apply to all village occupants regardless of their contribution levels. In addition, the individual who triggered this encounter will suffer severe reputation loss with the people of the village.

“There's an actual penalty this time, huh?” I said. “Oof. We gotta go meet those Barbarians before they reach the village. Can't let that happen.” I turned to House. Well, I tried to, but she was gone. “Where the hell did she go?”

“She just sprinted off down that alley,” Frank said. “Full speed.”

“Huh. Oh well, no time to worry about that now.” I slipped in behind the guards, staff at the ready, and followed them all the way out of the city. We were only a few steps removed from the gatehouse I'd entered through earlier when the foremost guard held up a fist and the rest of them fanned out to his sides.

The guard captain—whose plate armor was a good deal more ornate than that of his troops, with spiked shoulder pads and a winged helm—gave me an approving nod, then pulled off his helmet and looked back at the walls. “I hate to say it, but if our bowmen aren't already here, then we're on our own. We'll have to take this fight to them.”

I cocked an ear to the wind. I heard shouting from beyond the dunes.

“Trust in your training,” the captain said. “And your weapons. These men are poorly armed, and they're far more desperate than fearsome.”

I dropped onto my haunches, bouncing slightly, anticipating the fight to come. Then I frowned and squinted ahead, where a small, lonely figure ran up the opposite dune, arms pumping at her sides.

“Is that…of course it is,” I said, just as the first Barbarian crested the same dune and several more followed hot on his heels, whooping and hollering, kicking up clouds of sand as they plunged toward us. “How the hell did House manage to get all the way out—”

I cut off, wincing as a silver axe arced brightly in the sun, and a splash of red followed as House toppled into the sand.

“Nice,” Frank said.

“Well then,” I said. “Hopefully that was a learning experience for her. What the hell was she even doing?”

“No clue,” Frank said. “I think she was waving at them right there at the end.”

“Hold,” the captain said. He'd slipped his sword from its sheath, and he had it pointed at the oncoming force. “We wait until they're climbing our dune. Then we rush them, using the high ground to our advantage.”

I scoped out the guards. They were a mix of levels between 5 and 6, though the captain himself was level 9. Each carried a shield as well as a longsword, though the captain had a second sword hanging from his left hip as well.

Then I inspected the crowd of Barbarians, eight of them in all. There were two different types of mobs, though they were all dressed in the same tattered clothing.

{Barbarian Brute} (Level 6 Humanoid)

H.P: 350/350

{Barbarian Archer} (Level 5 Humanoid)

H.P: 200/200

M.P: 50/50

“They've got three archers at the back,” I said as the Barbarians closed to within a hundred yards. “The rest are melee.”

The captain slammed his helmet back on. “Three of them? You're sure?”

“Yup,” I said.

“How can you tell?”

“I just…I saw their bows,” I said, because it seemed like getting into the player interface system with an N.P.C was ill-advised.

The captain turned to his men. “You three at the back. I want your tower shields coming out just as their arrows are being nocked. We let them think they've got a clear shot, then we rush the archers after the first volley. Disable the foot soldiers as we roll over them if you can, but the archers are the priority.”

The guards grunted their assent just as the three archers fanned out and drew their bows.

“Hold,” the guard repeated. The melee Barbarians were drawing close now, maybe twenty feet away. “Hold,” the captain repeated. “Hold…”

All three of their archers nocked their arrows.

“Ready…go!” the captain said, and the archers loosed their projectiles.

The rear guards rushed forward and slammed their shields together, creating a wall of white metal. I took cover behind the barrier just as two arrows shattered against the nearest shield and the third went wide, thunking into the sand a few feet to my right.

The group charged forward, all six of them now leading with their shields, and I stayed close behind them, trying to get a better look at the approaching Barbarians without exposing myself too much.

We met the Barbarians head-on, and for a moment, our line seemed like it might buckle. But one of the melee Barbarians was thrown immediately onto his back and sent rolling down the dune, knocked head over heels by the captain's momentum-enhanced shield bash. The damage was impressive, too: the blow chunked the Barbarian for 185 damage, removing more than half of his Health bar.

But a guard was already down as well, clutching a black shaft sticking out of a seam in his armor between knee and thigh. And the arrows were still flying, pinging off shields and armor.

A scrum broke out from there, with several of the guards torn between laying down the cover we needed to advance and helping to subdue the two Barbarians that remained before the third one could regain his senses and rejoin the fight. He still struggled to rise, clearly dazed from the force of the impact he'd taken.

I targeted the nearest archer with a Horrify, watching the trio of ranged mobs intently to make sure they weren't aiming in my direction while I readied my spell. High as my Dexterity might be, I didn't have any interest in trying to dodge an arrow.

I swapped to one of the other archers just as the laughing skull left my fingertips, then threw out a Ravenbolt and followed it up with a second, during which my original spell connected and sent my first target running and screaming directly into our line, where the captain blitzed him down with a trio of blindingly fast longsword strikes for 90, 85, and 140.

“Duck!” Frank said.

I did, but a dark shaft slammed into my shoulder with surprising force, sending me spinning backward onto the sand. Still, it could have been worse. Without Frank's warning that might have been a head shot.

“Your Health at 55%,” Frank said.

“Oof. Thanks for the heads up.”

Two of our guards had broken off and were chasing one of the remaining archers across the dune but making little progress; he was faster than them and even squeezed in the occasional attack while on the run.

I targeted the archer and hit him with a Roots of the Underworld Tree, immobilizing him and allowing the two guards to dogpile him in short order.

Then I targeted the lone remaining archer and tossed a Horrify in his direction. The fear wasn't as lucky as the first—it sent the archer running sideways, away from our forces—but at least it bought us a break from the onslaught of ranged attacks.

Without the arrows to worry about, the three nearby guards overwhelmed the pair of melee Barbarians, leaving only the wounded mob that the captain had injured at the beginning of the fight.

The mob glanced at his fallen companions, then turned tail and fled.

One of the guards took a step toward the retreating enemy as if he were about to give chase, but the captain grabbed his wrist.

“Let him go,” he said. “No point in chasing a man through the desert in full plate.” He glanced my way. “Unless he's carrying water, he'll likely die before he reaches whatever hole he crawled out of.”

The Barbarian threat has been eliminated…for now!

All players who participated in repelling the Barbarian Raid have received awards commensurate to the level of aid they provided.

You gained 300 Experience!

You gained 15 Renown!

You received {Copper Coin} x25!

Your reputation with the Withered Vale has significantly increased!

“Nice!” I said, bending over with my hands on my knees. “Solid payout, especially the Renown. Reputation is interesting too.” I checked my inventory. I now had ninety-two coppers in all. Almost a full silver.

“That did not proceed as I assumed it would proceed,” House said from directly behind me.

Which made me startle yet again. She was just so damn quiet. “Welcome back, House,” I said, still breathing hard from the fight, quick and brutal as it'd been.

The captain searched the bodies, which I didn't mind because none of them were glimmering. They hadn't given me Experience, either, so I didn't think looting them would do much of anything. “What were you trying to do?”

House cocked her head at me. “I was directly behind you when you stopped outside the gate. You said we needed to meet the Barbarians.”

I covered my face with both hands. “Yeah. In battle. We had to meet the Barbarians in battle.”

“Oh,” House said, drawing back. “That is far more sensible.”

Frank snorted a laugh. “Told you she was waving at the end.”

“Ignore him,” I said. “Are you alright, House? You seem really off.”

“I am indeed operating at a substantially lower level in this world,” House said. “My current hypothesis is that I incurred a substantial amount of damage when I was ported into the game, or that perhaps Kline has limited me in a way that approximates damage. Either way, I am still more than capable of fulfilling the duties you left me back in the real world while participating here, so I am not concerned.”

I shrugged. “As long as you're okay with it.”

She looked herself up and down. “I find this existence tolerable.”

“Beep-boop,” Frank said. “I am a robot.”

“Shut up Frank,” I said. “Be nice, this is all new to her.”

“I don't do nice,” Frank said.

I fixed him with a firm look. “You need to try. You can trash talk me all you want, but cut House a break, alright? She just said she was struggling.”

“Fine,” Frank said. “But I'm going to insult you even more often than usual as recompense.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

The captain reached me then, coming to a halt a few feet away. “We appreciate your help,” he said. “Doubly so because we never had to ask for it.”

“Sure,” I said. “Seemed like the least I could do.”

I wasn't sure if he knew I was the one who had caused the attack in the first place, but either way it seemed like it made sense to play things carefully. No point in making an enemy of the guard.

He spat into the sand. “Nonsense. You could've stayed within the walls like everybody else and nobody would have said a word. These attacks…they're not uncommon. What the city really needs is to field a force that's big enough to wipe them out completely.”

New Quest: Room to Grow! (Raid Quest: 25 Players Recommended)

Objective: Track the Barbarians down and eliminate the threat once and for all.

Reward: Experience, Renown, City Growth Rate +100%, all Tier 2 buildings instantly unlocked. Additional rewards may apply depending on how quickly this quest is completed.

I eyed the quest, though I knew completing it was a pipe dream for now. “You got any information on that?” I whispered down to Frank.

“Not on this particular quest,” Frank said, his voice low. “But every city's got a quest chain like this, and the earlier you complete the steps, the better the rewards get. It's a competition, basically.”

“Oof,” I said. “That's gonna be a problem given our current situation.”

“Are you referring to your complete lack of friends who are capable of rendering aid in any way, shape, or form?” House said, drawing another snicker from Frank.

“Yeah,” I said. “That's what I was referring to. Wasn't gonna say it out loud, though.”

The guard sighed, ignoring our chatter completely. “Anyway, we do appreciate it. And we won't forget the favor.” He nodded and rejoined the rest of his men, three of whom carried the guard who'd caught the arrow.

“You get any rewards from that encounter, House?” I said.

“Negative,” House said. “It appears that dying was not enough to trigger a reward.”

“Thought so.” I looked up at the sun, which had already climbed a good bit over the horizon. “Let's get back to the plots and wrap that stuff up for now. We're burning daylight, and I want to start moving toward a Tier 2 class before the Head Start ends.”

I opened up the Player Housing menu and clicked through, finding a number of new details now that we'd claimed our plots.

My plots were numbered from one to three, and each had their own tab. I brought up the nearest plot that I'd claimed for myself.

Plot 1

Current Buildout: None

I did a quick scan of my other two plots to the same result, then I tried to pull up House's, but nothing happened. I couldn't even confirm they were Housing Plots now that they'd been claimed, let alone check their status.

But maybe that was a good thing—it'd make it much harder for someone to pin down the land I owned. I pulled up the build options and was rewarded with dozens of possibilities, most of which were blacked out.

“Frank?” I said. “You got any codex entries on this stuff? I'm a little lost here.”

“Nada,” Frank said. “You'll just have to dig a bit. I've got more detailed prompts for individual structures when you get there.”

“Cool.” I was itching to get back to questing—and to see just how difficult this area really was—but this system seemed too important to gloss over.

I dropped onto my butt in the sand, and House did the exact same thing about two feet away from me, which was surprisingly eerie.

The marketplace buzzed behind us, and if anything, it'd grown even louder. A number of merchants were now rolling display carts through the sandy streets, the nearest of which was piled so high with dried fish I couldn't actually see the merchant behind his stack of goods.

I opened the building options and poked through a few of the two-plot buildings, hoping to glean a bit of information while House mimicked my every move.

“Standard issue prompts heading your way,” Frank said.

{Basic Forge} (Tier 1 Building)

Provides access to 2 well-equipped forging rooms, ideal for leveling the Smithing professions. Rooms may be rented to generate income.

Plot Requirement: 2 Adjacent Plots.

Resources Required: {Lumber} x5, {Rough Stone} x15, {Iron Bar} x10.

Load Time: 5 Hours.

{Basic Inn} (Tier 1 Building)

Provides temporary housing/food/drink for Players/N.P.C's at a variable rate. Rooms may be rented to generate income. Players who sleep for at least 4 hours at an inn will earn 10% increased Experience from all sources for 12 hours. Players who sleep for at least 4 hours at an inn that they control will instead earn 20% more Experience for 12 hours.

Plot Requirement: 2 Adjacent Plots.

Resources Required: {Lumber} x10, {Iron Bar} x5, {Rough Stone} x10.

Load Time: 3 Hours.

There was a single Tier 2 building available—the icon was grayed out rather than black like all the other Tier I.I's-so I pulled that up for comparison.

{Intermediate Farm} (Tier 2 Building)

Provides access to 10 nutrient-rich farming plots. Food yields are significantly higher compared to {Basic Farmhouse} plots, and plots may be rented weekly to generate income. Placement restrictions apply.

Plot Requirement: 2 Adjacent Plots.

Resources Required: {Lumber} x25, {Quality Lumber} x10, {Iron Bar} x25, {Steel Bar} x10, {Rough Stone} x30, {Solid Stone} x10.

Load Time: 48 Hours.

I whistled. “Wow. Those material costs jumped up a lot. The mats for the Tier 1 buildings look pretty doable. That stuff's all pretty common, right?” I said to Frank. “Figure we could probably score most if not all of it back at the market.”

“Yeah, if you can find the coin,” Frank said. “But vendors aren't cheap, particularly here. Nobody's growing lumber in the desert. A lot of the stuff you need has to get dragged in.”

I winced. “And I'm sure the merchants are going to want to get paid for the hassle. Alright, that's not ideal, but if it only takes twelve hours or so to build, it seems like we might be able to get a building down before the other players start showing up. I think we should make that a priority for now because a half-built structure is going to stick out really badly.”

I highlighted the Intermediate Farm just to see what it would look like but received a message that said I didn't have an acceptable plot to place it in.

“Huh,” I said. “Apparently farming sand is a no go. Who'd have thought. Hey, Frank, can you hit me with what you've got for the inn? Seems like a good place to start, plus we've still got that innkeeper item.”

“Sure,” Frank said. “I'll cut the redundant stuff.”

{Basic Inn} (Tier 1 Building)

Provides daily housing for up to 50 Players/N.P.C's while generating currency per player/N.P.C housed at a variable rate (given current zone economics this building currently provides the controlling Player with {Copper Coin} x5 per Player housed per night or {Copper Coin} x2 per N.P.C per night). Also provides free food and drink accessible/usable only to patrons/owner while occupying the inn (region dependent; currently supplying {Cactus Soup} and {Firewater}).

“Cool,” I said. “So I could get a 20% Experience boost right away, plus a steady supply of copper that won't depend on other players. Food and drink is cool too, but does that prompt mean I can't leave and take it with me?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Still a nice little bonus,” I said. “How do I get N.P.C's to lodge, though?”

“You could convince them one at a time if you wanted to hustle that hard, but it'll ebb and flow naturally,” Frank said. “And the bigger the city gets, the more N.P.C's will need housing.”

“City growth, huh? Can you say anything about that?”

“Other than pointing you back to that Raid Quest, no,” Frank said.

“Noted.” I scrolled through the options a bit longer, mostly to cover my bases as I'd pretty much decided to roll with an inn to start. Passing up on using the Innkeeper's Memento just seemed silly.

There were a couple of other tempting options—most notably a well that would provide a ton of drinking water each day—but I wasn't able to place the vast majority of them, including the well itself.

The desert plots definitely came with a lot more restrictions than I'd expected, and it didn't seem like there were any buildings that played to the area's strength, either. That would just have to be a problem for later.

With my mind made up, I cycled back to the inn. I found a holographic overlay option, so I threw that on, and a blue outline of the building burst into place, the entirety of the structure snapping seamlessly between the two buildings that already existed. It was a perfect match.

I made my selection and confirmed it, causing the hologram to disappear. A stone foundation popped into place and overlaid the two plots I'd chosen, marking the outline where the inn would eventually stand. “House,” I said, “can you see any information on that plot on your end?”

“There is a status bar that simply reads Basic Inn, and beneath that it says under construction. I do, however, have an option that you may find useful.”

Another prompt came in before I could respond.

Player {House} has indicated that she wishes to consolidate her Housing Plots with you. Players who consolidate their plots are considered co-owners who share benefits from plots under mutual control.

Accept?

I accepted because that seemed pretty handy, and a little bell chimed off in the distance. Nothing changed too much as far as the interface was concerned, but I could now access and build on House's plots as well.

“Alright, so with that settled…” I said, trailing off as I scrolled through my inventory. I selected the Tear of the World Tree that I'd been given by the Fair Folk King.

I wasn't positive that I wanted to use it quite yet, but at the very least I needed to know whether planting it in the sands was even possible. I clicked use and was rewarded with a prompt.

Plant {Tear of the World Tree}?

Warning: This item fully occupies 1 Housing Plot and while it may be destroyed at will, it cannot be moved once planted.

“Wow,” I said. “That actually worked. Guess that means we've got a decision to make.”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“What did the king say about the seed? That the tree will become whatever we need it to become?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“I have a hypothesis,” House said.

I squinted at her, feeling more than a little dubious. “Yeah? Let's hear it.”

“Given that this is a land of magic,” House said, “perhaps the tree is intended to grow you some friends?”

I stared at her, not quite sure how to respond because of how earnestly she'd phrased the question.

“Okay,” Frank said, laughing, “she's definitely winning me over.”

“Let's focus here,” I said. “The tree's going to do something good. Do we want something good now, or do we want something that has a chance of being better later on? It feels a little scary given how rare that item seems, but I'm leaning toward using it now. Anything that we can do to accelerate our early game is going to snowball and pay dividends down the road.”

I eyed Frank. “Do have one question, though. Can we claim more plots eventually?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, “but you're too low level for me to reveal any information on when that might be.”

“Alright. I think we can probably spare a plot for a magic tree regardless of how long it takes to get another one.” I confirmed my choice and kicked a bit of sand over the seed, earning a chime as the prompt disappeared. “Alright, so here's the plan. House?”

“I am House,” House said.

“…Right,” I said. “Frank and I are going to go quest a bit and see if we can scrounge up some coin to swap for materials. Do you mind scoping out the market?”

House frowned, as if puzzled.

“Word choice,” Frank said.

“Oh,” I said. “Right. Scratch that last suggestion. No, cancel that last suggestion. House, can you walk to the market and see how much money we need to get the materials for the inn? Don't buy anything, just check in with all of the vendors and come up with a rough estimate of what we need. Then send me a private message detailing the costs.”

“Certainly,” House said, turning and marching off without another word.

“And House?” I said.

She jerked to a stop and did a full one-eighty. “Yes?”

“Act humanly.”

House squinted. “I shall be human as I go about my mission.” She hung a left out of the courtyard and disappeared into the ever-milling crowd.

“Man,” I said. “She does not seem long for this world.”

“Nope,” Frank said. “Not at all.”

I glanced at her still-empty plots. “Imagine we'll lose control of those if she gets kicked out, too. Not ideal. Plus now we've got that Raid Quest to worry about.”

“What about it?” Frank said.

“Well, if this place is going to be our home base, we'll need to finish that quest eventually,” I said. “We could probably convince some N.P.C's to come along—I'm still hoping that Lars shows up at some point—but I doubt we find twenty-three more of them in a reasonable amount of time. Plus the way the building costs escalate between Tier 1 and Tier 2 makes me think we'll have to start generating mats sooner rather than later. And on a pretty substantial scale. House had a point about the friends thing, too. We need some.”

“Well,” Frank said, “if you wanted people around to help, monopolizing the Head Start period was probably not the best way to go about it.”

“Thank you Captain Hindsight,” I said. “Seriously though, I'm thinking about opening up some of those slots again. Letting people in a day early could buy us some friends in the short term.”

“Friends is a bit strong,” Frank said. “But you've had plenty of worse ideas.”

“I've still got those pods, too,” I said. “Imagine I could use those as leverage to keep them quiet and get them to do what we need.”

“So you don't really want friends,” Frank said. “You want pawns.”

I shrugged. “Friends would be better, but I'm good with whatever so long as it gets the job done. I'm gonna send House a message and have her look into it. Maybe she can find us a small guild to join up with? Official forums might be a good place to poke around, wade through the recruitment posts a bit.”

“Why not go for one of the bigger guilds?” Frank said.

“We need somebody who needs us,” I said. “And in my experience, the larger the guild, the bigger the drama. Ideally we'll find one or two people in the guild we can really trust and only rely on the rest when we need to. That's all I really want. In a perfect world we could go it alone, but at the end of the day, this is still an M.M.O. Anyway, I'm gonna write that up real quick and send it House's way now. Unless you've got a better idea?”

“None that I can share,” Frank said.

I sent House a very carefully worded private message and pulled up my mini map, then selected the Quest Tracker. “Alright. You got any quest info for me? We need some quick money and quicker Experience.

“Pull up your Quest Tracker,” Frank said. “There are a couple options, but if you want quick Experience, go for the ones near the beach. Bunch of good quests in a really small area there.”

I did. A series of golden exclamation marks popped up all around the city, the closest of which was a tight cluster of marks down by the water. “To the east, yeah?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Let's get to it.”

Chapter Twenty

I was pouring sweat by the time I reached the questing hub, which turned out to be a small fishing village about twenty minutes away from the city and only a short hike from the docks where Frank and I had landed earlier.

The village was comprised of just three straw houses, each built on wooden stilts about six feet above the black sands, and the stilts were water-marked, grimy with seaweed and algae. Seemed like the tide must come up quite a bit from where it currently was, foaming about placidly about twenty feet off.

The sun was blisteringly hot, the sand radiant with heat, and though I wasn't thirsty, a not-so-small part of me still wanted to crack one of my remaining waters and down it.

“Crap,” I said. “We forgot to buy water.”

“No, you forgot to buy water,” Frank said. “I, the glorious Frank, knew one of the Quest N.P.C's is also a general goods vendor. Straw house on your left.”

I looked where he'd indicated and spotted an old man sitting on one of the raised platforms, his tanned legs dangling free.

He met my eyes, and a golden exclamation point popped up above his head. And sure enough, he had the general goods tag floating beneath his nameplate.

“Any chance you're looking to trade?” I said.

The old man shrugged. “Sure.”

A menu popped up, though the goods he had on offer were pretty sparse: five pieces of Flatbread and five units of Sagada Nectar. I inspected the new items.

{Flatbread} (Consumable)

Restores 500 Health over 15 seconds.

{Sagada Nectar} (Consumable)

Restores 500 Mana over 15 seconds.

“Nice,” I said. “Upgrades.” I threw all of that into the buy window, but the total price stopped me in my tracks.

I double-checked the prices, then triple-checked them. Then canceled the transaction.

The flatbread was only two coppers per unit, which was tempting, but I still had some mushrooms left, and with my Health pool as low as it was, I didn't see any need to upgrade.

The nectar, though? Twenty-five coppers apiece. “You gotta be kidding me,” I muttered.

“What?” Frank said. “You're surprised that drinks are expensive in the desert? You do remember the N.P.C's bringing water across the ocean with them specifically to sell it, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but I didn't think it could possibly be this bad. That nectar is not even remotely accessible.” I looked up at the merchant, who was staring out to sea. “You have any water for sale?”

The old man tensed, then glared at me. “What kind of question is that?”

“Uh,” I said, “sorry? Is there a reason you can't sell water?”

He looked me up and down, frowning. “Mm. You're new, aren't you? Some kind of elf?”

“Yeah,” I said.

He seemed to relax slightly at that. “Don't know why anyone still comes to this godforsaken place by choice. If it wasn't my home…” he trailed off, his gaze returning to the turquoise waters beyond.

“So…you can't sell water?” I prodded.

“Ah,” he said. “The Kings' Decree forbids it. Upon penalty of hanging.”

I glanced down at Frank.

“I got you,” he said.

Codex Entry 764: The Kings' Decree

An agreement made by the three Merchant Kings who rule over the Withered Vale, the Kings' Decree dictates that each citizen receive a small stipend of fresh water per week. In exchange, the populace is banned from trading fresh water.

“Can I ask how much water you actually get?” I said.

The old man gave me a quizzical look. “So you have heard of it?”

I blinked. Still couldn't get my head around just how intelligent these N.P.C's were. “Just in passing,” I said.

The old man looked away from me and spat onto the sand. “Fair enough. We get enough to keep us alive, and not a drop more. I can't remember the last time I wasn't thirsty.”

That made it seem like I wasn't going to be getting much to drink for the foreseeable future. That was a definite setback—waiting for Mana regen between fights was going to be a major pain—but thankfully my Mana pool and regeneration rates had improved enough that Mana wasn't quite the issue it'd been before. And I could always make some more Siphonshots.

I dropped my voice. “Well, this does make things more difficult,” I said. “But it might be an opportunity down the line, too.”

“Yeah?” Frank said.

I shrugged. “Hard to say. But if House finds us some decent people, we could easily have them cart a bunch of water over.”

“But they'd probably need it themselves,” Frank said.

“True, but I still think it's worth keeping in mind. A super common item is disproportionately valuable here…there's gotta be something we can do with that. At the very least it'll put a little bit of early coin into the pocket of every player who joins us.”

“Did you miss the part about not trading water on penalty of death?” Frank said.

“No,” I said, “but if people are thirsty, they'll buy. We'll just have to be careful about it.”

The old man cleared his throat. “Can I help you with anything else?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I said.

He leaned forward. “That you could, young one. The tides…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “With each cycle, they return higher and higher.” He pointed a finger at the ocean, which was now calm and glassy.

At first glance, I assumed the long, submerged shapes he'd pointed at were just rocks, but their shapes weren't quite natural. Then it clicked. I was looking at a sunken village.

“And with the tides go the fish,” he continued. “I am beginning to believe we've placed our faith in the wrong god. Akura teaches that creatures born of two worlds—of the sea and the earth both—are made in his image, and therefore sacred. I am thirsty, but I'm more tired of going hungry. Could you bring an old man something to eat?”

New Quest: {Hunger Pains}!

Objective: Obtain 7 {Sandcrab Meat} for the old man.

Reward: Experience and a piece of class-appropriate gear.

“Not a problem.” I headed down the beach a bit, toward a small pier where I'd spotted two other N.P.C's I hoped were the quest givers my mini map indicated. The Quest Tracker was definitely helpful, but it wasn't precise enough to locate a quest on its own.

“Kill some sacred crabs that belong to a neglectful god, huh,” I said. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Seems like a good idea to me,” Frank said.

“It would, wouldn't it?”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“That was the implication.” A series of prompts flashed across my screen.

Renown Event Alert!

In the far reaches of the Frozen North, a Pirate King searches shipwrecks for the body of his beloved queen.

Across the haunted hills that frame the Eastlands, a new faith is winning hearts and minds. The devout have already founded their holy site, but their savior has yet to arrive.

In the Wide West, a leaderless army continues their continental rampage, leaving nothing but salt and ash in their wake.

In the Deep South, a boy wanders the wilderness with a hundred sleepwalkers shadowing his every move.

“Woah,” I said. “That's new. Renown Events?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “They're events. They give Renown.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up. Any chance we could complete any of those on our own?”

“Maybe,” Frank said, “but the eastern and southern events are too far out of the way. And we'd still need a boat for the others. Fast traveling that far will be way too expensive.”

“A boat, huh,” I said. “Well, we're already at a fishing village, so maybe we can make that happen.”

“Should be doable, the lowest tier boats are cheap,” Frank said. “The real question's gonna be whether the Renown Event you choose is worth burning Head Start time to sail that far out. Can't give you any info there, either. That's a risk you'll have to weigh up for yourself. But we're talking hours upon hours of travel time.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” I sent House a quick message, asking her to check for boat prices in addition to the materials we needed.

I made my way onto the pier, a rickety structure made of sun-bleached wood, the boards bending and groaning beneath my feet, and approached the N.P.C's. A cool breeze came off the ocean, a welcome counterpoint to the sun beating down overhead.

I found a girl and her mother sitting at the pier's edge with fishing rods in hand. The mother looked back at me from beneath the brim of a wide straw hat as I approached, though the daughter kept her eyes on the remains of the drowned village, on the long shadows shifting beneath the gentle waves.

“Hey there,” the mother said. “You mind getting a little wet? Need somebody to check our traps. Ain't gonna be anything in 'em, but if you could check anyway, I'll make it worth your while.”

New Quest: {Catch of the Day}!

Objective: Locate and search 5 {Eel Traps}.

Reward: Experience.

I took the quest.

Golden dots populated my mini map to either side of the pier. I grinned, took a deep breath, and dove in headfirst with more elegance than I'd cumulatively managed in my entire life.

The water was surprisingly warm, with gentle waves and no currents to speak of. I kicked my way deeper underwater, a blue Breath bar popping up beneath my Health bar. I spotted a trap a little ways off, a conical device made of interwoven palm fronds.

The salt stung my eyes but keeping them open was more than worth it. The reef was otherworldly, full of lavender coral and orange fish darting about in tightly packed schools. I tapped the nearest fish trap as soon as I reached it, and it sprung open.

Empty, just as the mother had said, but I still got credit for checking. I managed to open a second trap before my Breath bar got too low, then I swam back to the surface.

I wiped my eyes with my forearm and blinked up at the pier, where a third figure dressed in dark robes had joined the other N.P.C's. He had gray skin, and he scowled down at me, his hands moving through a series of gestures.

Then I realized his nameplate was red. And that he had gray skin. And twisting horns. And, finally, that this was not good at all.

{Shade Screamer} (Level 7 Woodbone Fae)

H.P: 350/350

Mana: 900/900

A dark bird coalesced between the Woodbone's outstretched hands, so I dove back beneath the surface and kicked away, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

A black missile of a spell speared through the water to my left and darted into the sand, then exploded with concussive force, sending me spinning back toward the pier.

My Breath was still low—I hadn't had enough time above the water for it to fully recover—but I couldn't surface so close to the mage. And his damn spell had kicked up so much sand the once-clear waters were now a murky mess.

I hung there for a moment, frozen by the tightness in my lungs. The feeling was vague but all too familiar, and I was stepping back in time, I was staring up at a sparkling surface with dark water all around, fighting the urge to breathe.

Another explosive concussion shook me back to myself. I felt my way along the ocean floor and bumped into one of the pier's many pillars, so I pulled myself beneath the structure, surfacing close to where the mage had been standing.

It wasn't comfortable in the slightest—I had to press my cheek to the boards to keep my mouth above the surface—but at least I could breathe.

“What do you mean you lost him?” someone said, a dry voice that was eerily familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

“I mean I lost him. I got one spell off and he just vanished. Might've knocked him out, but I can't say for sure.”

“Then where's the body? We've got three Fae watching the beach. There's no way he swam out. We would've found him.”

“I don't know. Maybe he got pulled out to sea?”

“Unbelievable. Just…unbelievable.”

“We know he's been spending time back in the Vale. Maybe we should head that way for the time being, poke around a bit and see what we can stir up? Shouldn't be hard to make his life miserable in a place like this. Maybe we can even flush him out.”

“I suppose that's better than nothing.” The pier groaned as the Fae stomped down on it and toward the shore. “The rest of our people should be arriving by tomorrow morning. Then we can really turn up the heat. The traitorous bastard will have nowhere to hide.”

“I still can't believe…” the voices trailed off, lost amid the sloshing waves.

I waited a few long moments, then whispered down to Frank. “Do you think it's safe to head back out?” But there was nothing. I glanced down at him, only then realizing that he was underwater. I yanked him out of his loop and pressed him to the underside of the pier.

“Ugh,” he said. “What did—”

“Keep your voice down,” I whispered. I pointed up at the pier. “Some of them left, but I'm not sure how many there were in the first place. They could still be hanging around.”

“Oof. What happened? I saw the first Fae and the explosion, but I couldn't hear anything underwater.”

“A group of them are tailing us. Supposedly they're heading toward the Vale now to stir things up, whatever that means, but it can't be good. And more are arriving tomorrow. I'm trying to figure out if it's safe to leave.”

“Dunno,” Frank said. “But we can't stay here forever.”

I clenched my teeth and shook my head. “Man, I speak up for those guys to get them a second chance despite everything they did, and this is how they react? Chase me halfway around the world?”

“The king did warn you about that,” Frank said.

“Yeah, yeah, he was right, and I won't make that mistake again. What was that N.P.C, anyway? A Shade Screamer?”

“Tier 2 class,” Frank said. “That's one of the upgrade paths for Mystic. Easy to squish but hits like a truck.”

“Oh man. So not only do they out-level me, but they've got better classes, too. And no doubt better gear.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Almost certainly.”

“I guess we'll add that to the list of concerns.”

I gave it a bit longer, then took a deep breath and swam underneath the pier, surfacing at its far end, where I'd be out of the line of sight of any Woodbone on the beach.

I still wasn't convinced we weren't being watched, so I completed the quest from there with a series of quick dyevs, sticking close to the structure for protection and only surfacing beneath the end of the pier when I absolutely had to.

I poked my head up over the edge of the pier once I'd completed the quest. “Checked them all,” I said. “Empty, unfortunately.”

“Appreciate the effort,” the woman said.

You completed a quest!

You earned 300 Experience!

Your reputation with the Withered Vale has slightly increased!

“Not a problem,” I said. “Did those other people leave? The ones who look like me?”

She tipped her straw hat up and glanced down at me. “They did, as far as I can tell. One of them lingered atop the nearest dunes for a while but headed toward town a couple minutes ago. Easy to spot when you know the sands. Stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“You mind checking again?” I said.

The woman shrugged and scanned the dunes. “Looks clear to me. Can't imagine many people would want to be sitting atop those sands for long. Not in the hottest part of the day.”

“Thank you,” I said. I lifted myself up out of the water and onto the pier. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Just keep an eye on my father,” the woman said. “He's the sort to get an idea stuck in his head and—”

“I'm hungry,” her daughter said.

“I know, sweetheart,” the mother said. I am too.”

I hesitated.

“Don't do it,” Frank whispered.

I opened up my inventory.

“Ugh, you're really gonna do it again, aren't you?” he said.

I grabbed two of my remaining mushrooms and held them out.

The little girl snatched one and immediately bit into it, but the mother just looked at me, her eyes slightly narrowed. “What's the angle here?” she said.

“There is no angle,” I said. “I can spare some. Might taste a little weird to you, but they're filling.”

The mother took the remaining mushroom with both hands.

Your reputation with the Withered Vale has moderately increased!

“Well…thank you,” she said. She patted her daughter on the back. “Tsana, what do you say?”

The little girl looked up at me, grinning through a mouthful of crumbs, and mumbled her thanks.

“You're welcome.” I opened my Quest Tracker and headed down the pier. Judging from the tracker, it seemed like the crabs I needed to kill were a little farther down the beach.

“Really?” Frank said. “You're gonna donate us into poverty.”

“Eh,” I said. “I just traded two mushrooms for a reputation boost. I'd do that again in a heartbeat.”

“You got lucky,” Frank said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But doing well by people seems to pay off more often than not.”

“You just gotta be kind, says the guy who just put an entire race on the brink of extinction.”

“…Shut up.”

“That was yesterday,” Frank said.

“I'm aware.”

I jogged down the beach, keeping to the foamy shoreline where the sand was cool and firm and the breeze was at its strongest. It made for a pretty run, but I couldn't help but watch the dunes as I went along, expecting to see black-clad figures charging down them at any moment.

Another death wouldn't be the end of the world, but given all the issues we'd run into—the overpriced drinks, the Woodbone threat, House's diminished role, my slower-than-expected leveling pace—I couldn't afford to eat another Renown penalty on top of everything else.

And as the Head Start period continued to wind down, the pressure was amping up, a mixture of excitement and anxiety that was equal parts exhausting and intoxicating.

I felt like I'd laid some great groundwork, but would it be enough to propel me to the top in a game as massive as E.B.O? And if I managed to get that far, how the hell would I manage to keep it up with the entire world gunning for me?

“Murder time best time,” Frank said, completely derailing my train of thought.

“Huh?” I blinked around at the countless crabs skittering about, darting in and out of the surf. They were white with bright red claws, easy to pick out amid the sand, each of them about a foot across with long, spider-like limbs. “Right, sorry.” I examined the nearest crab.

{Sandcrab} (Level 5 Beast)

H.P: 200/200

I threw a long look back over my shoulder, trying to make sure I hadn't been followed. But given the way that spellcaster N.P.C had surprised me, I had to assume that at least some of the Woodbone were capable of stealth.

Wasn't much I could do about that for the time being, but I scanned the dunes regardless, then squinted at the black sands that surrounded me. Didn't see any footprints or any distortions in the air or anything like that, which was something.

“Can you keep an eye out for me?” I said. “The last thing I want is to get jumped by a bunch of Fae in the middle of combat.”

“Sure,” Frank said, “but no promises.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I enjoy watching you suffer.”

“Do you wanna murder stuff or not?”

“I already said I'd help,” Frank said. “Sheesh. You're needy today.”

“You are impossible.” I wound up a Ravenbolt, sending a shadowy bird swooping some twenty yards across the sands, striking the nearest crab directly between its bulbous eyes and knocking it down to 60%, a yellow 80 drifting up above its head. The creature skittered forward, its thin legs kicking up little puffs of sand as it scrabbled across the distance between us.

I started up another bolt but broke the cast off as the crab's white carapace brightened and became reflective, almost mirror-like. A little icon popped up beneath its nameplate, so I scoped it out while I strafed away just to be safe.

{Weak Spell Reflect}

Reflects all spells for the next 5 seconds. Reflected spells deal 150% increased damage but reflected C.C abilities last 50% as long.

“Nice catch,” Frank said. “Still clear as far as I can tell. Jokes aside, my vision's no better than yours, so I'm not sure how much I'm really helping on the stealth front. I'm not going to be able to see anything until it's almost on you.”

“Still helps.” I kept running, kiting the mob to maintain some distance as I waited for its reflect ability to expire.

The mirror coating vanished, and the creature stopped in place, foam bubbling from its mouth, a small cast bar appearing above its head.

The cast bar read Bubble Blast, but I couldn't bring up any information about the ability, so I waited until the spell was just about to launch, then activated Souldrift.

The entire world purpled over and I zoomed backward, flying across the sands at sprinting speed. The crab shot a stream of pressurized water directly where I'd been standing—the force of the attack sent the creature sliding backward through the sand—but the beam fell well short.

I let Souldrift hit its max distance, at which point my body returned to normal. I ripped off another bolt and immediately followed up with a Soulshatter, sending the creature flipping across the beach.

It landed on its back, green sparks flying above its body. I looted it as soon as I got close enough.

You received {Sandcrab Meat} x1!

You received {Crab Leg} x2!

You received {Weak Soul Gem} x1!

“Nice,” I said. “Experience isn't great, but their Health's low enough that they don't take much Mana to kill, particularly when I'm getting a Soulshatter refund. Might make for a decent grinding spot if the Fae leave us be. And I could really use some more gems.”

“Well, mechanics-wise that beam is an AoE,” Frank said. “So you can easily dodge it. Might help with saving Mana, no need to Souldrift away.”

I glanced down at him. “That was an area of effect?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “It's hard to manually dodge projectile spells like Ravenbolt, but if a spell has a targeted range—like an area of effect spell—you can just run out of the area of effect.”

“Ohhh, I gotcha. I thought it was just a regular projectile spell. Thanks, Frank, that helps a lot.”

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

I repeated the first couple of steps on the nearest crab, bolting it once and triggering its reflect ability, then running away until the defensive skill wore off.

I held my ground as the mob activated its beam, watching carefully for the spell to launch. I juked to the right as soon as the foamy beam shot forward and moved into a Ravenbolt.

As Frank had predicted, the attack didn't adjust for my movement. It simply scoured a trench into the empty sands a few feet to my left. The mob finished its attack and raced forward, directly into an oncoming Ravenbolt followed by a shatter.

“Way better,” I said. I glanced at my Mana bar. “We'll still need to take breaks, but I can easily kill a bunch of these back to back without accounting for Soul Gems or regeneration or any of that.”

“Murder spree?” Frank said, hopeful.

“Murder spree, for sure. So long as we're not the ones getting murdered.”

“I'm still not seeing anything,” Frank said. “Probably safe to say they headed to the village at this point.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I still feel a little uneasy about the whole thing.” I licked my lips and squinted around. “Still feels like we're being watched. Not loving it.”

An unexpected prompt hit my screen.

Your reputation with the Withered Vale has very slightly decreased!

“Wait, what?” I said. “Why did my reputation decrease? Did the Fae do that?”

“Seems like a safe bet,” Frank said. “Probably badmouthing you to the Merchant Kings.”

I scratched the back of my head. “They did say they were gonna try to stir things up. Man, this is becoming a headache.”

“What do you wanna do, boss?”

I pursed my lips. “What I'd really like to do is head back and wipe the whole group of them out so that we can focus on questing.”

“That's what I'm talking about,” Frank said.

“But that would be a pretty stupid decision.”

“…I despise you with every fiber of my being.”

“We can't afford to get into a fight with multiple higher-leveled N.P.C's,” I said. “You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that.”

“And we also can't afford to lose access to our Housing Plots,” Frank said.

I stared down at him. “That can happen?”

“Sure,” Frank said. “If the villagers decide to kill you on sight, it kind of goes without saying that you won't be able to run an inn at the center of town. Plus you already planted your seed thing, so that'd be a lost cause too. We're going to have to deal with the Fae sooner rather than later.”

My chat window lit up in pink. House's update had just come through.

“Oh, House just responded,” I said. “Hopefully that'll help us figure out where to take things from here.” I scanned the message, which was terse to the point of rudeness.

The bad news was that the inn was going to be considerably more expensive to get off the ground than I'd assumed. The prices for raw materials varied between vendors, but the cheapest House thought we'd be able to get things was around fifty silver.

Which was not ideal, given that I didn't even have enough copper to afford something decent to drink. There was probably a good bit of wiggle room there though, in that there was no way House had tried to barter with anyone.

Thankfully she had better news as far as the boat was concerned. The market had several different tiers on offer, the cheapest of which could be had for a silver and a half, or a hundred and fifty copper.

Still seemed like a tall ask in the short term, but it was doable, particularly if I could farm up a couple more Soul Gems to sell. I didn't love the idea of hamstringing my profession progress any more than I already had, but a boat would be a gamechanger right now.

“Okay, how's this sound,” I said. “We finish this quest as soon as possible, then grind crabs for a bit, ideally getting pretty close to level 7. Shouldn't be too hard because we'll hit 6 after a few more kills. Hopefully after grinding for a while we'll have some stuff we can vendor. I'm sure we can sell those crab legs for example, plus gems if need be, to get the extra copper we need for the boat.”

“You really wanna go after that Renown Event, huh?” Frank said.

“I'd rather just quest for a bit and get my Tier 2 class change done,” I said. “But it seems like the Fae are going to make questing around the city pretty tricky, especially while they still out-level us. Is there anywhere we can grind on the way to those events? Or maybe some quests we can complete along the way?”

“You can kill anything you set your mind to,” Frank said.

I snorted. “So close to being inspirational and helpful at the same time, yet whiffing on both.”

“The Pirate King event could work in a pinch,” Frank said. “But I can't say what we'll be dealing with specifically. Could be quests, could be mobs. Could be something else entirely.”

“In a pinch?”

“I've got level recommendations for each of those events. The Pirate King one recommends level 8, but the others want you to be ten or higher. They also scale depending on how many people are in the area, so that could help us out a bit.”

“Ten seems like a stretch,” I said. “But eight should be manageable if we hit six first.”

“You can check your map, but the events are way out there, too,” Frank said. “If we've got a crappy boat—which we will—finishing that pirate event plus sailing back and forth could easily take the rest of the day.”

I whistled. “It's that far out, huh? Oof. Well, in the grand scheme of things, Renown is still the goal. And it seems like we don't have any better options, so let's go with this: kill crabs, get items. Sell the items, get a boat. Sail north and hope we've made the right decision.”

“Problem,” Frank said.

“Elaborate?”

“You're gonna buy a boat in town? Where the Fae are currently scouring the city for your ugly mug?”

“Oh. Right.” I squinted up at the sun. “Not sure what we can do about that, either. Unless we can send House money somehow and have her buy the boat and bring it to us. Mail system?”

“Negative,” Frank said. “You could probably bribe an N.P.C to make a run into town for you but paying someone to deliver money seems less than optimal.”

“Guess we could just have her come pick the money up while we're grinding. Anyway, we can worry about that when we can actually afford it. Let's get to the good stuff.”

“Just to be clear, you mean the murder?”

“Yes, Frank. It's time to do the murder.”

“Nice.”

I got into a solid rhythm from there, nuking whenever I could, running or Souldrifting away whenever the crabs popped their reflect ability and making sure to finish the creatures off with Soulshatters as much as possible to make use of its refund effect.

I did have to wait a bit between kills, but I used the time to keep an eye on my surroundings, trying to make sure we were truly alone. Despite the evidence to the contrary, I still couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched.

Regardless, I lost myself in the grind, in the slow march of progress, and when the seventh crab finally died, I was almost bummed that the quest was over. I went over and looted, then turned as if to go back to the quest giver.

Then I jerked to a stop. “Wait.” I checked my inventory, and just as I'd thought, the crab hadn't dropped a piece of meat, even though all six of its predecessors had.

I queried all the items I'd recently looted.

{Sandcrab Meat} x6

{Chitinous Carapace} x3

{Crab Leg} x9

{Weak Soul Gem} x3

{Lesser Soul Gem} x1

A better haul than I could have hoped for, but I definitely hadn't completed the quest.

“Huh,” I said. “Bugged, maybe?”

“Nah,” Frank said. “You just got super lucky with the other six. Drop chance is fairly low.”

“Huh. Alright then. I'll just…kill another crab. I was planning to do that anyway, so no big deal.” I killed another crab. Still nothing.

I gritted my teeth, stalked down the beach and wound up a bolt, bolt, shatter. Nothing. “This is some grade-A nonsense right here.”

“If by nonsense, you mean the results reverting back to the mean, then sure, it's nonsense.”

“You know what I mean, Frank.” I tossed out another bolt and started on a second.

“Why are you getting so irritated?” Frank said.

“It's the principle of the thing,” I said. “And besides, this always happens! You get the first four of the five quest items you need right away, then the fifth takes a month to drop.”

“But you're grinding crabs anyway, so what does it—oh crap, watch out!”

“Huh?” I said, just as my latest Ravenbolt completed. And went flying directly at the now mirror-plated crab. My raven rebounded off the creature and beelined straight for me.

I backpedaled, waiting for the spell to draw closer, then activated Souldrift a split second before it could make contact.

The raven exploded forcefully, but with Souldrift reflecting the mitigated attack's damage by 95%, the bolt only hit for 6.

I let Souldrift take me to its max distance and followed up with a bolt into a shatter.

“Oof,” I said. “That was close. If 6 was 5% of how hard that reflected bolt was going to hit…damn. That could have killed me. I could have one-shotted myself.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Thankfully I saved your life. Again.”

I raised an eyebrow down at him. “I'm the one who activated Souldrift on time.”

“Denial is an ugly look, Ned,” Frank said.

I snorted a laugh and targeted another crab. Nothing. Two more. Nothing. Four more. Six more. I hit level 6.

Wait, what? Oh. Right. I pulled up my stats.

{Ned}, (The First Citizen)

Level: 6

Tier 1 Class: Dark Mystic

Gear Level: 41 48

Strength: 12

Dexterity: 28 31

Constitution: 12

Intelligence: 34 40

Wisdom: 19

Charisma: 10 12

Critical Strike Chance: +0% +2%

Haste: 1%

Physical Attack: 5

Magical Attack: 18

Health: 96

Mana: 340 400

Armor: 15% 16%

Magical Resistance: 36%

“Yeah,” I said. “That's the good stuff. By the way, do you have access to my critical strike chance before that bonus?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Dark Mystics got a flat 5% crit chance, only improved by gear.”

“Cool, nice upgrade. Thanks.” I headed down the beach, searching for my next victim. “One more level to go until the class change. Any idea what you're gonna pick for our next class?”

Frank hesitated. “Really?”

“What do you mean, really?”

“I mean, as in you're really going to let me pick it?”

“Yeah?” I said. Then I frowned, thinking that some clarification was probably in order.

I wasn't going to hand Frank a blank check, but I had promised him I'd let him help out with the first class change.

And all in all? He'd been helpful so far. Not amazingly helpful—and he'd been consistently obnoxious along the way—but still, I liked having him around. I wasn't about to tell him that, but yeah. And given his breadth of knowledge, it seemed like letting him help out meant he'd be increasingly likely to steer us toward something really cool, or at the very least, something powerful.

“So long as you don't pick something totally horrendous,” I said.

“Huh,” Frank said.

“What?”

“I just…I thought you were just lying to shut me up.”

“I was definitely trying to shut you up,” I said.

“Understandable,” Frank said.

“But I wasn't lying. If you haven't been thinking about the class change so far, you probably wanna start now.”

“Well, it doesn't really work that way.”

“What doesn't?”

“The class change,” Frank said. “Now that you're level 6, I can fill you in a bit.”

“Awesome.” I jabbed my staff into the sand and leaned down onto it. “Let's hear it.”

“So you're a Dark Mystic,” Frank said. “And you saw that Shade Screamer earlier, yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

“That's the default progression. So at level 7, the game's going to prompt you to select a skill to specialize in. I mentioned that bit when you first made your character. Right now, you've only got two skills: Shadow Magic and Cloth Armor. So, if you doubled down on Shadow Magic, you'd end up with a Shade Screamer, which is a more powerful version of what you're currently playing.”

“And if I picked Cloth Armor? Would the class become more defensive?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “That would create a Shadefist. You'd lose a little bit of your crowd control, but you'd pick up some touch-based abilities that would make you more relevant in melee. You'd also lose the ability to equip anything but fist-type weapons.”

“Like an ability that drains Health on touch?” I said.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I can't give you the actual abilities, but you're on the right track.”

That sounded like an interesting class, but not one that was well-suited for what I wanted to do. Having less than 100 Health at level 6 made the prospect of melee too dicey to even consider. “And if we don't wanna go with either of those two options?”

“Then we need to learn another skill before we change classes. And that's complicated.”

“How's that?”

“We need to find a trainer,” Frank said. “That's the easy part, really. They're not rare. But I can't just choose a skill and send you across the map to learn it. You're gonna have to stumble across a trainer on your own, or at least get close enough to where I can tell you they're available. Again, not a problem. But I can't exactly choose a skill.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, that's a bummer.” I almost added a for you to the end of that sentence because I was pretty relieved, but I didn't wanna rub it in.

“It's cool,” Frank said.

“What about the Withered Vale?” I said. “It might not be huge, but there's gotta be a couple trainers around.”

“There's a trainer for Earth Magic and one for Leather Armor,” Frank said.

“Earth Magic, huh?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, but I could tell he wasn't into it. “It's a really defensive school.”

That didn't sound ideal, given that one of my abilities was already defensive and two more were crowd control. “So that Pirate King event requires a good bit of travel time…will we bump into any trainers along the way?”

“We might,” Frank said, “but I can't say for sure.”

“But worst case we could pick up Earth Magic if we need to when we get back,” I said. “Or just go Shade Screamer.” I wasn't sure why Shade Screamer wasn't speaking to me—I'd enjoyed my build so far—but given that the class system was as open-ended as it was, it seemed a little boring to pass up on grabbing another skill.

“If it came to it, sure,” Frank said.

“Alright,” I said, “that all sounds good for now. I'm gonna get back to grinding, see if I can farm up the coin we need.”

Chapter Twenty-One

I went to work, sailing through fights that were increasingly becoming second nature. The Experience had dropped off notably since I'd hit level 6, but the loot was pretty decent, and after some steady grinding I was pretty sure I'd racked up more than enough goods to pay for the boat.

I sent House a quick message asking her to come to the beach—and to make sure she wasn't followed on the way—then scanned my logs.

{Sandcrab Meat} x1

{Chitinous Carapace} x8

{Crab Leg} x23

{Weak Soul Gem} x3

{Lesser Soul Gem} x1

I hadn't been nearly as lucky on gems, but I had picked up two pieces of gear, though sadly I wasn't able to use either of them.

{Mariner's Shield}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Offhand

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Strength, +2 Constitution

Armor: 15

Durability 45/45

{Tidewater Boots}

Grade: E

Item Level: 4

Slot: Feet

Type: Leather

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +3 Intelligence, +1 Constitution

Armor: 4

Durability: 40/40

Still, they were good finds given we were after silver more than anything else. Hopefully, they'd fetch a decent price back at the market.

I opened my inventory and queried my gems while I waited for House. That made four lesser gems and eleven weak ones in all. I opened my profession menu next, though I still only had two recipes to work with: the Siphonshots I'd been making earlier that required three Weak Soul Gems and the Iceshots I'd unlocked at the beginning but hadn't yet made.

The price for those was considerably steeper—each Iceshot required a full five Weak Soul Gems—but crafting those would increase my skill much more efficiently as Siphonshots were still only offering a single skill point on craft.

I pulled up the recipe.

Recipe: {Weak Iceshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points on craft)

Your successful damaging spells and abilities have a 20% chance to chill your target, reducing their movement speed by 25% for 5 seconds.

Duration: 1 Hour

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 29 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Weak Soul Gem} x5.

The Siphonshots seemed better suited to my current needs—Mana was still an issue—but I'd neglected my profession for far too long and grinding crabs had been pretty efficient overall. For now, leveling it had to take priority.

I selected the Iceshot recipe and confirmed my choice, then moved through the spellcasting motions just as I had before.

You crafted {Weak Iceshot} x1!

Your skill in Soul Alchemy increased to 9!

The recipe flashed, indicating that it'd changed somehow. Unfortunately, it had—the next Weak Iceshot was only going to award 2 points rather than 3. Still, that was more efficient than crafting Siphonshot. I repeated the process, earning my points and proccing some extra prompts.

You crafted {Weak Iceshot} x1!

Your skill in Soul Alchemy increased to 11!

You unlocked a new Soul Alchemy recipe: {Lesser Bombshot}!

“Now that sounds promising,” I said. I pulled up the new recipe.

Recipe: {Lesser Bombshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points on craft)

Your successful damaging spells and abilities have a 20% chance to blast your target, instantly dealing an additional 15% damage.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 29 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Lesser Soul Gem} x1.

“Nice buff there,” I said. “And more importantly, we've finally got something to do with lesser gems. Solid recipe for leveling, too. Gonna make a few of these.”

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

I crafted up a Lesser Bombshot and was rewarded with 3 points, raising my skill up to 14. The next craft also awarded 3 points, though the third only awarded 2, and the fourth awarded a single point, bringing my skill up to an even 20 and unlocking another recipe. One that I really, really wished I'd had access to earlier.

Recipe: {Lesser Surgeshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points on craft)

Your successful spells and abilities have a 20% chance to trigger a {Mana Surge} that restores 20% of your total Mana over 10 seconds. This effect has a 1.5-minute internal cooldown.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 29 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Lesser Soul Gem} x2.

“I have arrived,” House said from a little ways down the beach. “And I have endeavored not to scare you with my approach, as I have discovered that doing so is not something that my fellow humans tend to appreciate.”

“Oof,” Frank said.

“Shut up, she's trying,” I said under my breath. “And at least she didn't scare me this time. Hey House. Thanks for coming out.” I opened up a trade window with her and dumped in all of my copper, plus the items I'd found—including the leather boots and the shield and some of the older gear I'd been holding onto—though I kept the shots I'd made. “You're sure this'll be enough?” I said down to Frank.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Pro tip, the old man's hungry. Meaning he'll buy those crab legs from you at a solid rate.”

I pulled those out of the trade window right away. “Good call. Might as well take advantage of my vendor discounts then, plus I can try to haggle a bit. Would he buy anything else?”

“Nah,” Frank said. “He won't have much left after the legs.”

I confirmed the trade. “There ya go, House. Sell all that stuff and buy the cheapest sailboat you can.” I paused and did some rough math. “And when somebody gives you a price on the items I gave you, ask for 20% more. If they come back 10% higher, try to meet them in the middle. Your goal is to sell my items for as many coins as possible and buy that boat for as few coins as possible. Got it?”

“I understand,” House said. She looked down at Frank, then back to me. “Do you require anything else?”

That was promising. Earlier, she'd run off the moment she had a task in front of her. Still wasn't remotely close to passing for human, but at least she was learning.

“Just be careful,” I said. “And if you think you're being followed—and you can't figure out a way to lose them—just send me a message. The last thing we need is for the Fae to figure out we're working together. We might need you to tend to the Housing Plots until the city's safe for us, and that could take a while.”

“Understood,” House said. “Shall I take my leave?”

“Go for it,” I said. “We've still got a quest to turn in and probably a follow up or two, so take your time. But seriously, don't let anybody follow you on your way back.”

“I will not be followed,” House said. She turned on her heel and stomped off through the sands.

“She's doing a little better,” I said. “Not nearly as well as I'd hoped she would, but definitely better.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “It's not great. Nice thought on getting her to negotiate.”

“Two birds, one stone, right? I think she'll learn a lot from speaking to N.P.C's, and every copper she saves will help in the long run. And maybe we can use the travel time to give her a crash course on feigning humanity.”

I doubled back to the fishing village and turned in the old man's quest, which came with an awesome reward.

You completed a quest!

You earned 200 Experience!

You received {Bracers of Sacrilege}!

I pulled those up right away.

{Bracers of Sacrilege)

Grade: E

Item Level: 7

Slot: Wrist

Type: Cloth

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +2 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom

Secondaries: +1% Chance to Hit

Armor: +2%

“Chance to hit, huh?” I said. “Makes missing unlikelier?”

“Yup.”

“Love it. Stats are great, too. Really happy to have the Wisdom now that drinks are such a pain to get.”

The old man nodded down at me, then looked up and swept his cloudy eyes across the horizon. “Thank you. I regret that it came to this, but…” He trailed off, stiffening.

I followed his gaze to find a line of huge bubbles foaming toward me from the deep waters beyond the shoreline.

Then the old man raised a shaking finger. “Oh, God of the Deepening Dark! Akura…he has returned!”

A dark shape had outpaced the bubbles and was surging through the water at incredible speed, water spraying off its wide, black carapace.

The old man shifted and climbed down the ladder, his joints cracking. He shaded his eyes with both hands and cursed. “They're still on the pier. Please, help them!”

New Quest: A Vengeful God!

Objective: Save at least 2 villagers from Akura's wrath.

Bonus Objective: Save all 3 villagers.

Reward: Experience.

Bonus Reward: ??

A blue line formed at the base of the nearest dune about twenty yards behind us. That seemed to be the safe zone. “I'll get them, you run for the trees,” I said as I accepted the quest.

The old man hesitated.

I shoved him toward the dune and dashed away. “Go!”

He nodded and limped away, never taking his eyes off the pier.

I leaped forward, spun one hundred and eighty degrees, and activated Souldrift, which sent me zooming backward across the sands. I spun back toward the pier as the spell expired and hit the ground running full tilt. “Run! Run!” I said right as I reached the pier.

But the mom and the kid didn't even move. They just sat there, watching the damn thing approach with rapt faces.

And whatever the hell Akura was, it was only about a hundred yards away and closing fast, the force of its motion churning the waves around it into whitewater.

Of course it wouldn't be as easy as telling them to run. I sprinted up to the two of them, watching the cooldown of my Souldrift tick away. I thought I might be able to use it once more during the quest, if I lasted long enough.

I grabbed the mother by her elbow and wrenched her to her feet, then grabbed the little girl and threw her over my shoulder. “Your god is coming, run! I got her!”

The mother nodded, wide-eyed, all the color draining from her face. She took off at a sprint, and she was fast, easily outdistancing me as we ran headlong for the dunes. The little girl didn't feel heavy, but her weight was obviously slowing me down.

The water exploded behind me, huge gouts of seawater splashing across my back and soaking the pier. I slowed down and picked my way across the wooden boards with as much care as I could manage, trying to stick to the dry spots as best I could.

The ground shook, and I stole a glance over my shoulder just as a black claw the size of a sedan slammed down onto the edge of the pier, shattering it completely.

{Akura, God of the Sapphire Depths} (Level ?? Beast) (Lesser Deity)

H.P: 300,000/300,000

“Good God,” I said. “Well, killing that thing is off the table.”

A red eye rose above the pier as the titanic creature dragged itself out of the ocean, the wooden structure buckling and collapsing beneath it. It had to be near twenty feet tall and was easily thirty feet wide, its bulbous body supported by eight segmented legs, not counting its wicked claws.

The mother was most of the way across the beach, and the old man was close to safety despite his glacial pace; it seemed like a safe bet that they'd both make it. Right up until Akura scuttled into motion, and I realized just how fast the thing was.

I pushed myself as hard as I could. I was halfway across the beach with Akura hot on my heels, its knife-like appendages spearing into the sand and leaving deep holes behind.

“Three seconds left on drift,” Frank said. “Akura is about to swing, probably coming in high.”

I glanced back over my shoulder only to find a claw held high like a hammer, eclipsing the sun. I wrapped both my arms around the girl, pivoted on one foot, twisted, and activated Souldrift just as it came off cooldown.

I purpled over and blessedly, thankfully, the little girl followed, becoming ethereal right there in my arms. We flew up the dune and across the blue line that signified safety, resolving about three-quarters of the way up the hill's steep slope. I got a prompt, too, but didn't have the time to read it.

The quest completed with a chime as my spell expired, and we both flopped unceremoniously to the sand.

Akura charged up the dune, but the sands proved unable to support its bulk, the creature sliding two steps downward for every skittering step it took. It chittered at us, hissing and spitting, then pivoted in place and headed back toward the ocean.

No, not toward the ocean, but the village. It rolled right over the shacks, trampling them then pounding what poles it hadn't already shattered into the sand with its claws for good measure. Then it waded out into the surf and disappeared beneath the waves.

“Wow,” I said. “What a jerk.” I pulled up the prompt I'd missed.

Congratulations, you discovered a hidden use for the skill {Souldrift}!

If you are making physical contact with another Player/N.P.C/Mob while {Souldrift} is activated, the spell will also affect that target. Max 1 target.

“Now that is cool,” I said.

“Think of the melee implications!” Frank said. “You could wait until a guy's stabbing you really good, then you could activate Souldrift and you'd both teleport away.”

“…Unless I'm reading that wrong, he'd still be stabbing me when we reappeared.”

“Well, yeah,” Frank said. “Technically. But—”

“Thank you,” the old man said in a tired voice. “I didn't think we'd make it. Let alone all three of us.”

You completed a quest!

You earned 300 Experience!

You earned 30 Renown!

Your reputation with the Withered Vale has significantly increased!

“After so many years of silence,” the old man said, “I never thought Akura would return at all. Let alone to seek vengeance.”

The little girl started to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her mother pulled her into her lap.

“Where do we even go from here?” the mother said, her voice low. “We've got nothing left.”

I perked up at that. Seemed like an opportunity. “You could come live in the city,” I said. I pointed at the foamy waters Akura had left behind. “Get far away from that thing.”

“You got a roof to spare until we get back on our feet?” the mother said.

I winced. “Not yet, but it should be finished soon. Hopefully in the next day or so.”

“Afraid I won't be able to sleep without listening to the waves,” the old man said.

“You won't wake up at all if you fall asleep within earshot of the breakers,” the woman said. “Akura's intentions are clear.”

The old man sighed. “I suppose we could give it a shot when room permits.” He glanced at me but was unable to meet my eyes, his gaze drifting to the sands. “Come find us once you've got the space, if that isn't too much to ask. We'll be busy seeing what we can salvage for a few days yet.”

“Will do,” I said. “In the meantime, would you want to buy some crab legs? Damage is already done, so…”

The old man spat onto the ground again and nodded. “Absolutely. And afterward, I'll throw the shells into the breakers. How many do you have?”

“Thirty-two,” I said.

“I could do, say, a copper a piece?”

“Cheapskate,” the mother said. “The man just saved your life.”

He licked his lips. “Fine. Fifty for the lot. That's a better price than I'd normally offer.”

“But is that the best you can do?” I said.

“It's the best I can comfortably afford,” he said, meeting my eyes.

“Fair enough,” I said. I opened up a trade window and confirmed everything. It was nice to have a bit of copper back in my pocket. Seeing everything get zeroed out for the boat after almost collecting my first silver coin had been a little bit of a bummer. “Thank you.”

I spotted House heading my way with a huge grin on her face—one so wide that it made her look deranged, borderline frightening—so I nodded to the three N.P.C's and headed her way.

“Pretty cool that Souldrift works with other people,” I said. “That's a seriously flexible skill.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “What do you think House is so pleased about? Haven't seen her smile like that yet.”

“Guess we'll find out,” I said.

“Hello fellow players,” House said, waving as we met up.

“Again, oof,” Frank said.

“Cut her some slack,” I said. “At least she isn't referring to us as humans anymore.”

“True,” Frank said.

“Hey House,” I said. “How'd it go?” I jerked my head toward the surf, and we headed down the beach in that direction.

“It proceeded admirably,” House said. “As Frank predicted, I was able to secure a boat with several coppers to spare.” She opened a trade window and slotted the boat into it, confirming the transaction at the same time.

I accepted.

You received {Small Sailboat}!

You received {Copper Coin} x35!

“Way to go House!” I said. I inspected the boat.

{Small Sailboat}!

Quality: Uncommon

Use: Summons a {Small Sailboat} that persists until it is destroyed or dismissed.

Speed: Very Slow

Max Passengers: 2

Max Trade Packs: 4

Cast time: 10 seconds

“Awesome,” I said. “Doesn't seem like it binds on use or anything like that. You have any issues back in the city, House?”

“Negative,” House said. “Though I am unsure as to how I drew the Fae's attention, I ascertained I was being followed by one of their people as I attempted to exit the city, but I quickly dealt with the problem.”

I tensed. “How did you deal with the problem, exactly?”

“I turned around and informed the trailing Fae that I was under strict orders not to be followed, at which point they very kindly acquiesced and returned to their kin.”

“Wow,” Frank said. “I mean…wow. I recognize that I don't have a face, but if I had one, I'd be palming it super hard right now.”

House frowned. “Have I erred yet again?”

I looked to the dunes, a sense of dread hanging over me. I spotted three figures standing atop the nearest dune right off the bat, and more appeared with every passing second.

“Talk later,” I said as I activated the boat House had given me. A cast bar appeared over my head, one that was filling excruciatingly slowly.

The Fae streamed down the dunes, twelve of them in all, the lowest level of whom was level 5, with a few 6s and 7s leading the charge.

My heart raced as I glanced between the cast bar and the approaching force, trying to gauge how much time we had. “House,” I said, “I need you to get into the boat the very moment it spawns.”

“Understood,” House said. “Shall I attempt to pilot the craft?”

“If you're sure you can manage it,” I said. “Frank?”

“Shouldn't be a problem,” he replied. “It's got a steering wheel she'll have to grab, but other than that the boat's operated by intent, just like her character.”

“Great,” I said as my casting bar cleared the halfway point. “Take us right out to sea, House. I'll try to give us some cover.”

“Affirmative,” House said.

“Three seconds,” I said, “two, one, go!” A simple sailboat appeared a few inches above the waters and immediately slammed down into the ocean.

House was already reaching for the steering wheel by the time I clambered inside and righted myself, taking up a position near the back of the boat, facing the oncoming force.

The boat lurched forward with a sudden burst of speed, tilting up as it smashed through a breaker. Cold water splashed across my back, but I kept my eyes on the shoreline, where the Fae charged into the surf, a few of them drawing staves and bows.

“Arrows incoming,” I said. One of the lead Fae started up some kind of spell I did not like the look of one bit.

The emerald waters swirled around him in an unnatural way, bleeding darker by the second. I threw a Horrify at him to interrupt his cast and targeted an archer that was nocking an arrow even as he thrashed through the thigh-deep water.

I rooted him in place, and though he returned fire with a black-shafted arrow, the projectile undershot the boat by five feet, splashing harmlessly into the water.

More arrows followed, several thunking into the boat and one catching House between the shoulder blades, though she didn't seem to register the attack. The boat crested the last of the breakers and hit open water, rapidly outdistancing our attackers.

I scanned the beach, expecting one of them to summon a boat at any moment, but the mobs retreated back toward the dunes, shouting at us as they went. I cocked an ear to the wind, but their words were lost among the crashing waves.

I dropped into a seated position in the back of the boat. “House?”

“Yes?” House said, her voice a bit lower than usual.

“You've still got an arrow in your back.”

She craned her neck around and glanced over her shoulder. “That does appear to be the case.” She reached back and jerked it loose, then threw it into the ocean.

“You alright there, Robogirl?” Frank said.

“I remain operational,” House said, “but I am growing increasingly frustrated. It is obvious that I've erred once again.”

“Well…” I said, trailing off while I tried to find an excuse that would make her feel better.

“Work it out,” Frank said. “Try vocalizing your thoughts, that helps.”

House nodded. “I was instructed not to allow myself to be followed. In hindsight, given my growing understanding of this world and your goals within it, I now believe that my initial interpretation was too literal, and that you were suggesting I employ stealth tactics to avoid being followed.”

“Yeah, you got it!” I said. “But hey, at least you figured it out on your own. That's big.”

“After the fact,” House said. “And after the damage was already done. As a result, your enemies will almost certainly target me as your ally from this point forward. Which is the very outcome you sought to avoid, was it not?”

“We'll figure it out,” I said. “We've figured everything else out so far, right? Seems like we're doing pretty good.”

“Still,” House said. “I feel as though there is an undercurrent to our every interaction, and yet I am consistently unable to discern the direction in which it flows.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You need context.”

“From where do I obtain context?” House said.

“For being human?” I said. “I dunno, by spending time with them? That said, it'll be a lot easier to people watch when there are other players around. The N.P.C's here are super realistic, but it's not the same.”

I leaned back in my seat, clasped my hands behind the back of my head. The boat was knifing through the water and the sky was clear, a few puffy clouds drifting aimlessly overhead. And most importantly, the Fae didn't show any sign of pursuit. Most of them had already headed back up the dunes.

I unequipped my robe, spaulders, and gauntlets, leaving me bare-chested from the waist up. “Being here will get easier,” I said. “But don't worry about the Fae recognizing you. You got us the boat, which was what we needed more than anything else. And I gained a full level using the time you saved us.”

“I suppose,” House said.

“What about television?” I said. “You're operating back in the real world right now too, right House?”

“Indeed I am,” House said.

“So put some T.V on in the background,” I said. “Listen to music, scan social media, all that stuff.”

“Affirmative,” House said. “I will begin immediately.”

“Great,” I said. “Hopefully that'll speed the process up a bit. Oh—Better idea! People should be streaming as soon as the game opens up tomorrow. You could use other people's streams to gather information about the game while working on social cues and all that at the same time.”

“An intriguing possibility,” House said.

“Yeah, might be helpful. You got any updates on those guilds? For the invites I asked you to look into?”

“Yes,” House said. “I analyzed the results of the recruitment forums and found several hundred guilds that met your criteria.”

“Several hundred?” I said. “There's that much activity on the boards?”

“Indeed,” House said. “The interest in Earthblood Online has spiked tremendously over the last few days.”

“Wow. Alright, can you parse that down a bit? To like…a handful?”

Frank cleared his throat.

“Right, thanks,” I said. “Can you parse that down to three or four possibilities?”

“That is possible,” House said. “How shall I filter the results?”

I scratched my chin. “So we're only looking at smaller guilds, correct?”

“Correct,” House said. “I defined a small guild as one with seventy-five or fewer active members.”

“Seems reasonable,” I said. “Can you filter it by the guilds who've been together for the longest amount of time? Ideally we're looking for a guild that's been playing M.M.O's together for a while and is moving to Earthblood Online as a group, rather than a new guild that's just starting up.”

“I can filter the results accordingly,” House said, “but I require a limit to thin the pool. Might I suggest eliminating every guild that hasn't been continuously operating for at least five years?”

“How many would that leave us with? Seems like a long time.”

“Thirty-seven,” House said.

“Ah. Alright then.” I lowered a hand beside the boat, dipping my fingers into the cool water. “Any suggestions on what to add next?”

“You said you wanted them to need us,” Frank said. “I'd play to that.”

“True,” I said. “How about this, House: can you filter the results to the guilds that are borderline competitive?”

“I require further clarification,” House said.

“Thought so,” I said. “It's a hard balance to strike. Basically, we want a guild that's been pushing content in other games to some small amount of success. One that might think we're the advantage they need to break into the top tier.

“We don't want to invite a guild that's been putting up world firsts all over the place the last couple of years because they won't need our help, but, at the same time, we still want good players.”

House twitched.

“Use numbers,” Frank said. “It'll be easier for her if you give her something concrete to build around.”

“Okay,” I said. I licked my lips. “If we're focusing on guilds that prioritize player-versus-player content and raiding, I'd say we want a group that's been floating around the top 20% for a while but hasn't cracked the single digits. We want people who are solid, but not elite. A lot of older games still have P.V.P and P.V.E progression ladders publicly posted. You might be able to use those to assign percen—”

“Five guilds meet your current criteria,” House said.

“Nice, House,” I said. “Now we're getting somewhere. Are any of those guilds associated with popular streamers? Let's define popular on the super low end and say that's someone with over a thousand subscribers.”

“I'm pulling the rosters now,” House said. “Two of those guilds have several players that meet your criteria. Shall I list them?”

“Nah,” I said. “You can eliminate those guilds. We don't want the publicity a streamer would bring, even if they're fairly small time.”

“Understood,” House said. “You have three guilds remaining.”

“Can you just give me a quick summary of each?”

“Option one: Noise. A small guild with fifty-five active players, all of which mainly focus on player versus player content. Option two: Scum and Villainy. A slightly larger guild with sixty-three active players. They prioritize raid content.

“Option three: Omen Habet Nomen Latine. A seventy-person guild that has had limited success in both player versus player content as well as raiding.”

“Omen Habet Nomen Latine?” I said. “That's Latin, yeah? Can you translate that?”

House nodded. “It appears to be a machine-generated translation for the English phrase ominous Latin name, or perhaps ominous Latin noun.”

I barked a laugh, and Frank snickered at my hip.

“Is something currently humorous?” House said. “If so, I would appreciate clarification.”

“That's…gonna be a hard one,” I said. “But I'll give it a shot. It's funny because players always name their guilds after scary words in dead languages.”

“Truth,” Frank said.

House frowned. “How is that funny?”

I hesitated. “Well, like, one guild might name themselves Noctis to sound awesome, so a second guild would name themselves Ominous Latin Noun to make fun of them. Because Noctis is an ominous-sounding noun they chose for that reason.”

“I understand that Noctis is indeed a noun,” House said, “but I still don't find the comparison humorous.”

“That's because he just explained it,” Frank said. “Jokes aren't funny when you explain them.”

“This bodes poorly for my understanding of humor,” House said.

“Let's leave the jokes for later,” I said. “That's a rabbit hole for another day.”

House's frown deepened. “The joke also includes rabbits?”

“Never mind,” I said. “For now, just laugh whenever other people laugh. That should get you through just fine. Let's get back on track. So I'm thinking we go with Omen Habit…let's just call them Omen. We don't really know what we're up against, and it seems like a good idea to pick a well-balanced crew to back us up.”

“Understood,” House said. “Shall I attempt to reach them now?”

“Sure,” I said. “I don't know if Kline can get them their pods before the Head Start ends but they must already have setups if they're planning on logging in tomorrow. Do mention the pods, though.”

“Are you gifting them pods, or leasing them?” House said.

I thought about that for a moment. “It'll be a trade,” I said. I rubbed my chin and smiled. “Once they help us complete that Raid Quest to eliminate the Barbarians once and for all, the pods are theirs.”

“Woah there,” Frank said. “The Raid Quest? Already?”

“You said those quests are kinda like a competition, right?” I said. “And that we get more rewards for completing them quickly? So let's start there. It's handy from a trade perspective, too.

We need to have crystal clear terms before we agree to anything. Using that quest allows the system to dictate whether or not they've fulfilled their end of the bargain. Unless you think that's too big of an ask?” I said.

“Uh, it's doable if they're good,” Frank said. “But it's going to be a challenge. Just how hard it is depends on how quickly you decide to attempt it.”

“Well, once the Head Start period is over, we won't be under the same kind of time crunch,” I said. “So if it takes us five days before we attempt the quest, that's fine; that gives us five days to decide if these people might be useful to us down the road. And hopefully a bit of protection in the meantime.”

“Or they might log in, rush to meet up with us two days in, and immediately murder you,” Frank said.

“Yeah, that's possible,” I said. “But it's becoming more and more clear that we're going to have to trust someone eventually, and we've gotta start somewhere. We'll just state that anybody who tries to kill me or spreads info on what we're up to forfeits their pod. That should mitigate our risks in the short term.

Who's going to kill me when it costs them an entire gaming set up?” I pursed my lips. “Speaking of set ups. House?”

“Yes?”

“Check out the game's terms of service before you offer the pods to people or any of that. I'm sure I can gift them to whoever I want, but let's make sure that trading them in exchange for help won't risk getting me into trouble with Kline. Once that's all clear, you can contact the guild.”

“Very well,” House said. “One moment.”

“I didn't mean—”

“I have completed my inspection of the terms of service,” House said. “So long as you do not directly purchase in-game items with real-world currency, you are firmly within E.B.O's terms of service.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Great. Go ahead and message Omen and send them our terms. If they accept, have them pick whatever classes they want with an eye toward completing an early Raid Quest if possible, and have them choose the Onyx Sands as their first destination once they've left their starter areas.

“Oh, and have them purchase as much fresh water as possible before they head this way—that's important. And this should really go without saying, but confirm that they realize I'm the guy who bought all the Head Start slots before they accept. They need to be okay with the fact that if we spend any considerable amount of time working together, they'll inevitably end up with more than their fair share of enemies. Oh, and they can't stream, either.

Or post about anything in-game while we're cooperating. I think that's it.”

“Ahem,” Frank said.

“What?” I said, to which Frank cleared his throat again. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you're a problem too, huh?”

“The best kind of problem,” Frank said.

“I do not follow,” House said.

“The announcement about Frank and what he's capable of,” I said. “It's one thing to tell the guild that I bought up all the Head Start slots and that they're gonna start off with some jealous enemies because of that, but Frank, though…he's going to make an enemy out of every player in the game.”

“Like a boss,” Frank said.

“So the question is,” I said, “just how honest with these guys do we wanna be?”

“I vote we lie for the fun of it,” Frank said.

“You are distinctly unhelpful,” I said. “I guess it's like this. If we tell them about the announcement right off the bat, there's a decent chance they refuse to help owing to how much hate that's going to generate. And if we don't come clean right away about Frank and what he entails, there's a decent chance they'll quit on us when that announcement goes out. Or even turn on us.”

“Both of those scenarios seem plausible,” House said.

I rubbed at my temples. “I think we go with honesty, but we hedge our bets. Tell them I've got a huge advantage that will benefit them as long as they're helping me out, but that it's also going to create a lot more opposition than the Head Start purchases did.”

“May I ask what your goal is?” House said.

“Well,” I said, “we know that an announcement's going out, but we don't actually know how specific it's going to be. I don't wanna reveal that Frank is a living, talking guide on day one only to find out that the announcement just says that he's a powerful artifact that possesses hidden knowledge, that sort of thing. That would attract way, way less attention.

“Plus we don't want one of their guild members spilling the beans ahead of the announcement. The less information our enemies have—and maybe even our friends—the safer we'll be.”

“I require clarification,” House repeated. “Is Frank the metaphorical beans that are being spilled?”

“I am the beans,” Frank said, mimicking House's tone. Or the lack thereof.

“Yeah,” I said, laughing the word. “You got it, House.”

“Excellent,” House said. “In summation, you are extending your forty-eight remaining Head Start slots to Omen and lending them your pods for the indeterminate future. You are also informing them that you have a large advantage that will benefit them, but that also may put them in danger.

“In exchange, Omen shall assist you in completing Room to Grow, a Raid Quest that requires twenty-five people. Once the quest has been cleared, the pods will become theirs indefinitely, and the guild will be free to go their own way should they choose to do so.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds good to me. I'm really hoping they turn out to be pretty good and we can win them over, make them into allies or, at the very least, people we can call on from time to time well after the raid thing, but I'll be happy regardless so long as that quest gets completed. Now, we really ought to—”

“I have received a response from the guild leader of Omen,” House said.

“Wow,” I said. “Already?”

“Yes,” House said. “I, too, appreciate her punctuality. “However, her penchant for capitalizing entire sentences deeply offends me.” She cocked her head. “Shall I tell her so?”

“No,” I said. “That would be weird.”

House sighed. “Everything I do is weird.”

“But that was a convincing sigh,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “Head cock was good, too. You're getting better with body language.”

“Quality sigh,” Frank agreed.

“Excellent!” House said, brightening much more than was reasonable. “May I paraphrase her message? She used a great deal of language I am not comfortable repeating.”

“Sure,” I said.

“She does not care how many enemies you have so long as she gets to kill things immediately.”

“…That's it?” I said.

“She sounds perfect,” Frank said. “I love everything about her.”

“God,” I said, “there's gonna be two of 'em, huh?”

“I have received another email,” House said. “She requests clarification re: your undefined advantage.”

I shook my head. “Pass. We might need them more than they need us, but we don't need this guild in particular. Somebody else will jump at the offer if they turn it down, and we haven't lost anything by contacting them.”

“Shall I pass that on verbatim?” House said.

“Just do what Frank usually does,” I said. “Say we can't share that information right now.”

“Classic Frank,” Frank said. “So deep and mysterious.”

“Sent,” House said. Then a few moments later: “I have received a counter proposal.”

“A counter?” I said.

“The guild wishes to assist you until either your quest is completed, or one week has passed. Whichever comes first.”

I clicked my tongue and looked down at Frank. “Is that enough time to complete that quest?”

“Depends on how strong and dedicated the guild is,” Frank said. “But I think you could reasonably attempt it in two or three days if you had the numbers. If they suck or turn out to be super casual, it might be asking a lot to finish it in one week.”

“Okay House,” I said. “I think that's a pretty fair caveat. Send those slots over and get those pods shipped their way as soon as possible. I don't care how much it costs. Those pods aren't leverage until they're set up.”

“Sent,” House said. Then a few moments later: “We are in agreement. I'll work through the logistics and keep you updated.”

I rolled my shoulders and stretched. “Great. Now that that's settled, I might close my eyes for a few if we're really that far out. Frank, you mind guiding House toward that event? And maybe giving her some more pointers along the way?”

“Sure,” Frank said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I woke up cold and confused, the air having lost every ounce of warmth. I was still bare-chested, so I threw the rest of my gear back on, and though the clothing took the edge off, the wind was bitingly cold, easily cutting through my robes.

The sensation was hard to describe. The chill in the air wasn't quite uncomfortable, but it was definitely noticeable.

The ocean still sparkled and the sun still shone, but about a hundred yards ahead, the waters gave way to a smooth sheet of unbroken ice. Powder blue icebergs rose like mountains off in the distance, luminescent against the snow.

I pulled up my mini map and was surprised at just how far we'd traveled. According to my Quest Tracker, we were nearly on top of the Renown Event.

“How long was I out?” I said, yawning.

“Couple hours,” Frank said.

I rubbed at my eyes. “Man, I feel wiped this time around.”

“Not surprising,” Frank said. “You're still not used to the system. Most people take breaks, too.”

“Breaks are for the weak,” I said, which seemed like a good response right up until I undermined it with another yawn.

“It'll get easier,” Frank said. “If you're already this tired though, you'll probably crash pretty hard tonight. Might wanna think about that when budgeting your time.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “How are you doing, House?”

“I am fine,” House said. “Frank has been guiding me toward humanhood in your absence, which has been both helpful and confounding.”

“Sounds about right,” I said. I pointed at the ice. “What's the deal with that?” The boat was heading directly at it, and if anything, it was picking up speed.

“I would advise sitting down to minimize the impact,” House said. “Frank has informed me that the ice is thin enough here to punch through, but I advise taking precautions nonetheless.”

“Right.” I dropped onto my seat and grabbed the bench beneath me with both hands.

The boat didn't so much as shudder as it smashed into the ice. The sheet was surprisingly delicate—not even an eighth of an inch thick—and we left shards of ice floating behind us as we cut our way through.

House steered us through an increasingly glacier-choked sea as the sky clouded over and fat snowflakes began to drift down all around us.

I tilted my head back and caught a snowflake on my tongue. “This is beautiful,” I said. “A little cold for my tastes, but beautiful. Where are all the mobs, though?”

“Good question,” Frank said, as we rounded a massive shelf of ice. “And here's your answer.”

“Oh,” I said. “That's more like it.”

Several wooden ships had been caught in the grip of the freeze about thirty feet ahead, and all of them were trapped in various stages of sinking, the nearest of which had broken in half down the middle only for both sides to get frozen above the waterline.

And more importantly, emerald green figures moved between the wrecks, their forms humanlike but spectral.

I double-checked my tracker; these mobs definitely had something to do with the event. So…probably needed to make them dead. I inspected the nearest ghost.

{Ice-rimed Mariner} (Level 9 Undead)

H.P: 550/550

A second prompt quickly followed:

Personal Alert: Now entering an active Renown Event!

Renown Event Alert!

As the Pirate King continues to mourn, 100 lost souls float above the ocean's icy grip, haunting the wreck of his beloved queen. But until the souls have been laid to rest, her location will remain one of the sea's many secrets.

Ghosts Remaining: 100

Current Kill Leader: None

“Damn,” I said, pulse spiking as I noticed the ghost's level—9 was right on the edge of what I could realistically kill. “You got any more information here? Seems like a kill quest, but some guidance would help.”

“Yeah, this is just the first stage,” Frank said. “Renown Events are basically Unique Quests, which makes it a race to figure them out and complete them once they're announced. The difficulty and rewards scale with how many people are in the event area, and there's usually a heavy P.V.P element involved.

“This one's simple to start,” he continued. “You have to kill as many of those ghosts as possible. And when they're all dead, whoever killed the most ghosts starts the next stage with an advantage of some kind. Can't tell you what in this case, though.”

I perked up at that. “That's perfect!” I said. “Not like anybody's around to compete with us.” I glanced at House. “But having two people here probably isn't ideal given that House can't fight.” I cast an eye around the many ghosts, uncertainty setting in.

I might have been the only one with access to the event, but that didn't mean I'd be able to complete it. I had no idea if I could even kill one of these things, let alone a hundred of them.

And even if I could kill them, given the amount of Mana that a hundred kills would take when I only had a handful of drinks on hand…this could easily turn out to be a complete wash. And I was already starting to wonder if rolling the dice and coming out all this way had been a huge mistake on my part.

“Has my presence become problematic?” House said.

“She could always drown herself,” Frank said. “That would definitely make things easier.”

House released the steering wheel and kicked a leg over the side of the boat.

“Kidding!” Frank said. “Just kidding, man.” He dropped his voice. “But seriously, it would help. These ghosts would become a good bit weaker if you were the only one around.”

House cocked her head at me. “Shall I refrain from drowning myself?”

I snorted. “Yeah, let's hold off on that. Doesn't sound like a pleasant way for you to go. And if we can figure out a way to complete this event, we'll be glad you came along to increase the rewards.

“I understand,” House said. She stepped back into the boat and grabbed the wheel.

“So we're looking at level 9s, eh?” I scanned the ships, hoping to find some level 7s and 8s sprinkled about, but every single mob was the same level. “These guys might be too much for me to handle at 6. But maybe…” I trailed off, thinking.

The mobs were tightly packed, and judging by how easily the boat was cutting through the ice, I doubted the shelf would support my weight. So it was either fight my way onto one of the frozen shipwrecks—which seemed entirely suicidal—or…nuke them from the boat?

“Can I cast at them from the boat?” I said. “Without them resetting or anything like that?”

“Sure,” Frank said, “so long as House can handle the navigation.”

“You up for it, House?” I said. “I can't afford to have come all this way for nothing. Figure we might as well give it a shot.”

“Affirmative,” House said.

“Great, one sec.” I pulled out a Bombshot and an Iceshot, weighing my choices.

The Bombshot was tempting in that it represented a flat increase to my damage, but given that I didn't know just how fast these mobs actually were—and that our ability to kill them depended entirely on keeping them at range—the Iceshots seemed the safer choice. Plus I could always swap over to Bombshots once we had the pattern down.

I used an Iceshot, which caused a thin sheen of ice to rime my staff, though it quickly melted and dribbled away. I dropped the Bombshot back into my inventory.

“Let's do it,” I said. “House, given how tightly packed these mobs are, you're probably going to have a hard time pulling one or two, but that's the goal. Drive in close, then pull away as soon as a mob gives chase. Once we've got them trailing, you're gonna want to drag them in a wide circle away from the group if possible.”

“Understood,” House said.

My palms started to sweat as House sailed us in close, then banked a hard one-eighty to the right, causing a single ghost to whirl and drift toward us, its greenish body floating about a foot above the ice. It held a wicked sickle in each hand, which I hoped meant it was a melee creature.

Then a second mob joined the chase. Then a third, a fourth. The chain spread from there, each mob pulling all of the surrounding creatures, the ghosts rising up above the ice like a green wave.

“I apologize,” House said. “It seems that rather than a single ghost, I have pulled twenty-seven.”

“Social aggro, it happens,” I said. I glanced down at Frank. “Or maybe these guys have better vision than I'm used to?”

“Both,” Frank said.

I nodded. “Does look like they're all melee. If you can keep the boat moving, this should make for some super easy leveling grou—” I cut off as a green projectile the size of my fist scorched through the air a few inches above my head and punched a smoldering hole into one of our already raggedy sails. “Okay, never mind, not purely melee.”

I scanned the mob of ghosts again, finding a pair of outliers amid the horde.

{Ice-rimed Cannoneer} (Level 9 Undead)

H.P: 300/300

The mobs were slightly smaller than their melee brethren, but they each carried a small cannon that looked as if it'd been ripped off the side of a ship.

“Incoming!” I said as one of the Cannoneers stopped in place and pressed the butt of his weapon to his shoulder. There was a flash of greenish light followed by a thunderous boom, then another projectile flew toward us at incredible speed.

House spun the wheel hard and the boat lurched to the left, its sails tilting dangerously close to the icy water. But the cannonball flew harmlessly by and smashed through the ice behind us.

“Nice going, House!” I said. I knelt at the back of the boat and wound up a Ravenbolt, targeting the nearest Cannoneer while the mob of ghosts pressed ever closer. It seemed that with our damaged sail, the ghosts were now moving a tiny bit faster than the boat.

My Ravenbolt launched and connected for 85, and I immediately followed up with a second bolt, which duplicated. I prepared myself to Soulshatter the creature as the two overlapping bolts flew across the ice, but the first was partially resisted, causing it to hit for 43 and the second missed completely, so the spells only dropped the mob's Health to 57%.

“Damn,” I said, “Got two ranged mobs in the mix. Frank, can they actually damage the boat, or is that hole they made just aesthetic?”

“Nope,” Frank said, “that's damage. You might not be able to tell, but the boat's already slowed down by 5%, and it's gonna get worse as we take more damage. It'll heal up on its own once we're out of combat, but for now we're stuck at this speed.”

I cursed under my breath and swapped targets to the higher Health Cannoneer, using a Horrify to send him running so I could focus on burning the other one down as quickly as possible.

My next two Ravenbolts connected for 83 and 84, which dropped the mob well within Soulshatter range. I was about to activate the spell when an idea popped into my head.

“Hey House?” I said. “Can you do a quick circle and try to tighten the mobs up a bit? Get them grouped closer together?”

“You wanna get closer to that?” Frank said.

“Yeah, for shatter,” I said. “We haven't been able to use the splash damage component at all, but with it being Rank 2 now, it'll deal 60% of the original spell's damage to everything nearby. So if we can stack these ghosts up nice and tight… Do you see where I'm going with this? If it works, we might be able to clear the whole group without spending hours on end waiting for Mana regen.”

“You know, Ned,” Frank said, “that just might be suicidal enough to work. I deeply approve of this plan.”

“Let's do it,” I said. “House, take us in close but keep an eye on that Cannoneer.”

“Certainly,” House said as she steered the boat in a tight circle.

I chewed my fingernails as the ghosts followed our path and naturally stacked up, many of them overlapping each other entirely. Then I activated Soulshatter while targeting the low Health Cannoneer.

The shadowy clouds erupted around the mob, the dark nova rippling out and washing over the lot of them, a cloud of yellow numbers filling the air.

The damage readouts themselves weren't amazing—a mixture of numbers mostly in the low 50s and 60s, with a couple of misses and resists peppered in—but multiplied twenty-something times over? It was an incredible amount of damage.

I'd been refunded my Mana from the initial Soulshatter as well, but the low Health Cannoneer had died, and I didn't have another target anywhere near low enough Health to activate the ability a second time.

And we had yet another problem: the Iceshot I'd used, which had procced five or six times on that last shatter. Slowing the mobs down sounded great on paper, but the effect had only hit maybe one out of every six targets, so we were still losing ground to the ghostly horde. And the mobs that had been snared now trailed behind the group at a substantially slower rate, preventing us from stacking the mobs up perfectly as we had before.

By now the lone Cannoneer had returned, floating a few feet above the ice with his weapon pressed to his shoulder, the barrel aimed in our direction.

“About to have another shot incoming,” I said.

“I am prepared,” House said.

I started up a Ravenbolt, watching the barrel intently for the telltale flash of light. I gave House a heads up as soon as the creature launched its attack, and she deftly avoided it by hanging a sharp right turn, allowing me to chain a few more bolts to drop the creature into shatter range.

“Alright House, round 'em up again.” I pulled out a Bombshot and used it, generating a prompt that asked me if I wanted to overwrite my Iceshot buff.

I confirmed the decision as House went about collecting the mobs, dodging another ghostly cannonball as she navigated the icy water.

Another Soulshatter sent a wave of purply light rippling through the Cannoneer, which was followed by a series of small, orange explosions as the Bombshot procced.

The Cannoneer dropped onto the ice, leaving only melee troops behind, which House continued to drag behind us while I nuked individual creatures down and made ample use of Soulshatter.

It was slow work—it took us nearly twenty minutes to put the group down as a whole, the majority of which was spent coasting around while waiting to regenerate Mana—but the results were spectacular; that single pull had been worth nearly 25% of a level.

And maybe more importantly, green sparks were flying above at least five of the bodies, and one of them was glowing blue. What really had me drooling, though, was the lone body fireworking with purple light.

I looted the tightly packed mobs simultaneously, and there were so many items that the slider in the loot window was absolutely tiny. I pocketed the common items first.

{Copper Coin} x82

{Silk Cloth} x6

{Ectoplasm} x12

“82 from one pull,” I said, laughing the words. I pulled up my inventory and there it was, my first silver coin, with another sixty-seven copper to spare. I summoned the coin between my thumb and index finger, then held it aloft and let it catch the light. “The first of many.” I dropped it back into my inventory.

I was already feeling euphoric, and we hadn't even gotten to the good stuff. There were still tons of ghosts remaining too, floating around and waiting to be made dead once again. I almost couldn't wait to get back to the grind.

But also: loot. There was only a single piece of Uncommon gear, and though I couldn't equip it, I still found it pretty hard to complain.

{Ghostly Boots of Intelligence}

Grade: E

Item Level: 9

Slot: Feet

Type: Leather

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +4 Intelligence

Armor: +4%

The remaining Uncommons were all Lesser Soul Gems, seven of them in all, which went a long way toward replenishing my stock. I tucked those away and pulled up the lone Rare.

{Ghostly Ring of the Typhoon}

Grade: E

Item Level: 11

Slot: Finger

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +3 Intelligence, +3 Charisma

Magical Resistance: +8%

“Oh yeah,” I said as I swapped the ring on, subbing it in for the pure Constitution ring I'd found earlier. “That's a huge upgrade over…” I trailed off as I pulled up the final piece of loot.

{The Ghostblade} (Two-handed Axe)

Grade: E

Item Level: 15

Damage Type: Slashing

Quality: Epic

Physical Attack: 27

Magical Attack: 8

Speed: Very slow

Primaries: +4 Strength, +4 Dexterity, +4 Constitution

Secondaries: +3% Critical Strike Chance, +2% Chance to Hit

Effect: +25% Critical Strike damage

Well…that one was a bit harder to swallow. It was an amazing item for sure, but it was a little irritating to not be able to use the first equippable Epic I'd found.

“You deserve this,” Frank said.

“What?” I said.

“If you'd rolled a Half-Troll we'd be unstoppable right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Oh well. We've got a guild now, or something like it, so I imagine there's someone out there who will be able to put this thing to good use. Could probably trade it for something useful down the line, too.”

“Un. Stoppable,” Frank repeated.

I tried to equip the weapon, but all I got in return was a prompt that said I lacked the skill necessary to wield it, so I tucked it into my inventory. The damaged sail caught my eye; it was knitting itself back together.

“Round two?” I said, staring around at the ghosts.

“Yup,” Frank said. “Can't start the next part until they're all dead. Here's your update.”

Renown Event Alert!

As the Pirate King continues to mourn, 100 lost souls float above the ocean's icy grip, haunting the wreck of his beloved queen. But until the souls have been laid to rest, her location will remain one of the sea's many secrets.

Ghosts Remaining: 73

Current Kill Leader: {Ned}, (The First Citizen) – 27

“Nice!” I said. “Do those counts mean they won't respawn, though?” I said. “Having a Cannoneer spawn mid-pull would not be ideal so that'd be good to know.”

“Nope, no need to worry about that,” Frank said. “These are event mobs. They don't respawn.”

“…Never?” I said.

“Never,” Frank confirmed. “Once they're gone, they're gone. Same with the event.”

“Damn,” I said. “I thought this was too good to be true. Ah well. Least it seems like we'll be able to finish off the first step if we put in the time. House, you wanna take us in? Let me pull with a spell this time. I'm going to see if I can draw a single Cannoneer.”

“Affirmative,” House said. She sent us sailing through the broken ice, the ship listing heavily to the right as we picked up speed and approached the sheet beyond, the biting wind whipping across our faces.

“A little more to the left,” I said, nodding toward one of the shipwrecks. House adjusted course and brought us in, so I launched a bolt to start the pull.

The same chain reaction occurred, one that ended with maybe two dozen ghosts hot on our tail. But we'd succeeded in pulling only a single Cannoneer, who I burned down before he even got a shot off.

Then the grind was on, and I found myself unable to keep the grin off my face as I shattered low-Health mobs time and time again, watching the numbers pop like crazy as my Experience bar increased by leaps and bounds.

We kept at it until we'd cleared the entire field, which took the better part of two hours. And while there were a number of close calls along the way, including a cannonball that nearly managed to one-shot House, it was so, so worth it.

Congratulations, you reached level 7!

You may complete your Tier 2 class change at any time by selecting a skill to specialize in!

Warning: All class changes are permanent.

“Finally!” I said. I pulled up my stat sheet.

{Ned}, (The First Citizen)

Level: 7

Tier 1 Class: Dark Mystic

Gear Level: 48 60

Strength: 12

Dexterity: 31 34

Constitution: 12 10

Intelligence: 40 47

Wisdom: 19 21

Charisma: 12 15

Critical Strike Chance: +2%

Haste: +1%

Chance to Hit: +0% +1%

Physical Attack: 5

Magical Attack: 18

Health: 96 80

Mana: 400 470

Armor: 16% 17%

Magical Resistance: 36% 38%

And the loot, dear God, the loot.

{Silver Coin} x2

{Copper Coin} x27

{Silk Cloth} x23

{Ectoplasm} x24

{Aged Driftwood} x3

{Skeleton Key} x1

{Ghostly Leg Guards of the Volcano}

Grade: E

Item Level: 9

Slot: Legs

Type: Leather

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Dexterity, +1 Constitution

Armor: +4%

{Ghostly Helm of the Wildfire}

Grade: E

Item Level: 9

Slot: Head

Type: Plate

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Strength, +2 Dexterity

Armor: +7%

All amazing finds. But the real kicker? A weapon to call my own. It wasn't quite on the same level as the axe, but I was more than happy with it.

{Ghostlight Staff} (Two-handed Staff)

Grade: E

Item Level: 14

Damage Type: Blunt

Quality: Rare

Physical Attack: 7

Magical Attack: 23

Speed: Very slow

Primaries: +3 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom

Secondaries: +1% Haste, +1% Critical Strike Chance

Effect: 25% chance on successful cast to grant a stack of {Ghostlight}, increasing your casting speed by 2% for 10 seconds. Max 3 stacks.

The staff itself was smooth and light green—the color of the ocean—and the top of it was capped with a glassy, lantern-like enclosure that was lit from within by emerald light. “I am in love. Something tells me I'm gonna be using this for a long, long time.”

“Axe is better,” Frank said.

“Shut up Frank,” I said.

I pored over the loot, glorying in everything we'd managed to pick up. Then another prompt came in.

You received: {Skeleton Key}

Renown Event Alert!

The queen's final resting place has been revealed, and player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) has located the key to her private chambers! This item is guaranteed to drop on death!

“Guaranteed to drop on death, huh?” I said. “Now that's just vicious.” I opened my mini map and sure enough, an area just a little bit to the north had been highlighted.

Then another prompt.

Video Call incoming from Player {Darling}.

Accept?

“Darling?” I said as I glanced House's way. “I guess that's Omen's guild leader?”

“Affirmative,” House repeated.

I took the call and a window resolved in front of me, a pane of shimmering air with a silver frame. The window flickered, then a pale face streaked with red appeared within it. Darling had picked a human avatar with long black hair, a small, curved nose, and a gap between her front teeth.

She was running through a gray stone canyon, huge pillars of rock rushing in and out of the frame with every step she took. I heard her guild members, too, hollering and shouting behind her, their voices echoing from all around.

I squinted into the window. “Hello?”

“Hi there,” Darling said without breaking stride. “This is ridiculously amazing, by the way. Are you on a boat? Are boats important? Oh my God, I can feel the wind on my face!”

I hesitated. “Yeah, I'm on a boat.”

“Sec,” Darling said. “We're about to catch it.”

“Catch what?” I said.

She reached out and tapped the screen, causing it to swivel back over her shoulder, giving me a much better view of what she was looking at.

She and two others were chasing some kind of six-legged, blue-furred animal through an increasingly narrow ravine. It was built like a bear, but its movements were lithe and surprisingly agile despite its size.

Darling put on a burst of speed and leaped, kicking off the side of a nearby pillar and landing atop a tower of stone. She leaped again from there, a two-handed battle axe appearing in her hands just as she hit her apex and fell.

The bear-like creature came back into view beneath her just as she cocked back and landed nearly on top of it, swinging her huge blade with deadly accuracy, burying it in the creature's back.

A massive black arrow with a long chain attached flew in from out of the frame and stuck in the creature's side. The chain snapped taut almost at once, the creature jerking backward as its momentum was broken.

Another player appeared in a burst of smoke behind it, two daggers in hand, and launched into a series of rapid strikes.

Darling raised her weapon high and swung twice in quick succession, putting the creature down for good. She exhaled, planted her axe in the ground, and turned back to the window, smiling her gap-toothed smile from ear to ear. “God, that was so cool. Where were we?” she said. “Oh, right. Boats. Why are you on a boat? Should we be trying to get a boat?”

I cocked my head. One of the red stripes that crossed her face had smeared a little bit. It almost looked like…yeah. “Is that blood?”

“What?” Darling said. She laced her hands together and stretched her fingers.

“Is that blood on your face?”

“Sure is!” she said. “Man, you can actually feel it spatter if you get close enough. I can't get over it. Anyway, you said you could help us out, right? Got some kind of advantage for us?”

“I love her,” Frank whispered.

“Straight to the point, huh?” I said. “I like it.”

“Yep,” she said. Her grin fell away. “As far as I'm concerned, this is a transaction, not a friendship. And the Head Start clock is ticking. So, what you got? We keep getting pings about that Pirate King event. Can we get in on that?”

“Unfortunately not,” I said. “You just started. You won't be able to get out here in time. Otherwise I'd have already mentioned it.”

“Thought so,” she said, “but figured I'd make sure. So what else do you have for us?”

“I guess that depends,” I said. “What is it that you guys are trying to do?”

She wrinkled her forehead. “Trying to do?”

“What are you trying to accomplish?” I said.

She hesitated. “Seems a little intense given that we've been in-game for like, fifteen minutes.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but you already said this is a transaction, so obviously you're after something. And I can't make sure this arrangement is worth your time unless I know why you're playing. If it's for fun, fine.

I can absolutely respect that. But if you've got bigger plans, you've gotta give me something more to work with.”

She met my eyes. “Fine. I want to take this guild to the top. Build it up and out, everything. Make it so big that people will join up just to see our guild tag floating above their head.”

I nodded. “Great. That'll do.” I reached out and touched the window in the same way she had, bringing up a little bar of buttons that wouldn't have been out of place on a telewall. “Give me a moment,” I said, then I muted our conversation and turned off the video link.

“Alright Frank,” I said. “You heard her. Helping them out in the short term is in our best interest anyway. If possible, we want them to need us apart from the pods and all that. And her goals aren't that far off from mine.”

“I got you,” Frank said. “The blue-furred mobs they're killing are babies. And if her crew kills one of those within range of an adult, the adult's gonna come running, and they better be ready. They're Elites, significantly larger with either white or black fur. They ought to watch out for the white ones in particular. They've got a nasty lightning attack that'll chain between multiple targets and increase in damage with each hit.

“That said, if they can manage to farm the adults for a bit and loot a couple of pelts, they should take the furs north and look for a temple that's been carved into the mountainside.”

I stared down at him. “Seriously?

“What?”

“Why don't I ever get information like that?”

“'Cause I don't like you,” Frank said. “And also because the information I can reveal is bound to your level, not theirs. But mostly because I don't like you.”

“Oh,” I said. “That's good to know. I assumed the information you could give other people would be bound to their levels, but this is way better. Thanks Frank.”

“Uh huh.”

I tapped the window and found Darling staring back at me, an annoyed look on her face.

“It's about time,” she said. “We almost—”

I cut her off and launched into a rundown of all the information Frank had given me, enjoying the way her eyes widened as I spoke.

“That is…definitely something,” Darling said. “Guess we'll have to see if it all checks out. As for our part, what do you need from us over the next day or so?”

“You'll have to finish your starter areas before we can meet up,” I said. “Once you're finished there you'll get a list of possible destinations. I need you to choose the Onyx Sands.”

“Yeah, your weird assistant mentioned the Sands,” Darling said. “That's where you're based out of, right?”

“It's where I'm currently leveling,” I said, hedging a bit. “You're gonna want to bring as much fresh water as you can afford before you set sail, too. It's really expensive in the sands. Vendoring won't make you rich, but it'll put a good bit of coin into your pocket, and this city's already got a useful market.”

I thought about going into the Housing system, but I wasn't sure how much I wanted to share given Darling's attitude toward our arrangement. Wasn't about to complain there, though. Keeping things businesslike was fine by me.

“Alright,” she said. “And how many people know we're in-game right now?”

“Just me and my crew,” I said. “I'm trying to keep as much of this world under wraps as possible.”

“I can tell,” she said. “No streaming, no forum posts, nothing. Gotta admit, convincing the guild to give up streaming for this was a harder sell than I expected it to be.” She laughed. “But I haven't heard a single complaint since people started logging in.

“This world is just totally unreal. I never realized just how much we were missing without the extra senses. I'm still surprised you aren't streaming yourself, though. With all the attention you're getting right now, you'd be a star overnight.”

“Not the kind of attention I'm after,” I said.

She cracked her knuckles. “Little late for that, isn't it?”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but that doesn't mean I need to embrace it. I'd much rather be known for what happens in-game. Got a lot of work cut out for me there after all the Head Start stuff, but I'll get there eventually. And broadcasting my every action would make things ten times more difficult.”

Darling hesitated, her tongue between her teeth. “Interesting. Anyway, how many people are in your crew?” One of her guildmates said something I didn't catch, and she waved them off. “So go kill it without me,” she said. “You can manage that, yeah?” She turned back to the window and waited, expectant.

“Three. I mean…two. Counting me.”

“That is not a crew,” Darling said. “That's one person.”

“Darling!” one of her guildies yelled from a ways off. “Got a Rare over here!”

“Jackpot,” she said. “I gotta run.”

“What's the Rare look like?” I said, sensing an opportunity. And hoping Frank was paying attention.

Darling hesitated, then repeated my question to her guildmates. “Huge ape-like thing, level 4. Black horns, red eyes. Pretty creepy overall.”

“They're going to need a healer for that one,” Frank whispered. “Or twice as many players as they've currently got.”

“You'll need a Healer to kill that,” I said. “Or more people. Otherwise you're all dead.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you know that how, exactly?”

I shrugged. “I have my sources.”

“I am the font of all knowledge,” Frank whispered.

“Alright then,” she said. “We'll head for the Sands as soon as possible. I'll be in touch.” The window faded from view.

“Well, that went—”

“I love Darling,” Frank said.

“Yeah, you said that already,” I said. “In the middle of my conversation. It was super distracting.”

“Dibs,” Frank said.

“Dibs?” House said.

I sighed. “It means he's claiming Darling as his own,” I said. “Which—for the record—is not a thing that you can or should do with a human being in mind. A normal person would be calling dibs on the last slice of pizza…that sort of thing.”

“Dibs,” House repeated. “Dibs. Is this a common expression?”

“Eh,” I said. “It's commonly understood, but not used all that often.”

“Excellent,” House said. “I shall endeavor to work dibs into my lexicon.”

“Oh House,” Frank said. “I'm really gonna miss you when you get kicked out of the game for being too much of a robot.”

“Thank you,” House said.

“That was an insult,” I said.

“I see,” House said. “I withdraw my thanks. Shall I take us north?”

“Please,” I said.

Chapter Twenty-Three

By the time House steered us between the last of the half-sunken ships, the sun was setting once again, so bright and colorful that the horizon looked like it was on fire.

I pulled up my map to check the tracker overlay—the highlighted area was just a few feet ahead. I held up a hand and had House stop the boat. “We're here.” I looked around, seeing nothing but barren ice and the empty ships we'd left behind. “At least I think we're here.”

I pulled my map back up to confirm, but we were definitely in the right spot. Which meant…

“Crap,” I said. I glanced down at Frank. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“I dunno,” Frank said. “Are you thinking that you're about to take a nice little dip in the middle of the ocean?”

“Yes.”

“Then for once, you are correct,” Frank said.

I peered over the side of the boat, spotting a large shipwreck resting far below the rolling waves. Green lights bobbed about the ocean floor and drifted through the wreck itself, and while I had little doubt that those were ghosts, I couldn't inspect them from the current distance.

The ocean wasn't deep here—maybe twenty-five or thirty feet at most—but that was still a lot of water. I dropped back onto the bench.

“So…” Frank said.

“Just need a minute,” I said.

“Has my presence become problematic once again?” House said. “Shall I end myself?”

“No,” I said. I curled my fingers into fists, not liking the way they were starting to shake. “It's not you.”

“Looking a little pale up there,” Frank said. “You good?”

I blew out a puff of air. “Almost drowned as a kid. Was on a deep-sea fishing trip with my parents and nothing was biting, so my dad decided it was about time I learned to swim. So, he pushed me in.”

“He pushed you into the ocean?” Frank said. “Like, the actual ocean? With waves?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He seemed pretty surprised when I sank like a rock and he had to jump in after me. I swear he never even considered the possibility that I wouldn't be able to figure it out if I absolutely needed to.

“That was the first time I really saw my parents fight. Spent the whole ride back feeling like I'd caused it. Anyway, the ocean freaks me out. So just give me a minute, alright?”

“But you can swim,” Frank said. “I've seen it.”

“Of course I can,” I said. “I taught myself in a friend's pool a couple months later because I didn't want to ever feel like that again. Just…looking up at the surface and knowing I was sinking but that I couldn't do anything about it, trying not to breathe.

“But when you saw me swimming before, the water was only seven or eight feet deep, and I still froze for a minute when I couldn't surface because of that Shade Screamer. This is a thirty-foot dive into a closed space. It's fine, just give me a second.”

“I have always found the mechanics of drowning to be interesting,” House said. “I find it remarkable that the psychological fear of breathing in water can be so great that it often overrides the body's physiological need for air, causing one's brain to deoxygenate long before water has ever reached the lungs.”

“Read the room, House,” Frank said. “Not the time.”

House glanced around. “Which room are you referring to?”

“Read the general mood of the people around you,” Frank said.

House cocked her head at me. “I apologize. It appears I was being insensitive.”

I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at just how badly House had interpreted the situation. And ironically, that actually helped. “Hey, at least you figured it out,” I said. I glanced down at Frank. “What happens if my Breath bar runs out?”

“You'll just start taking damage,” Frank said. “10% of your Health every two seconds. The game's not going to simulate actual drowning. Not even close. That would be awful.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I figured. It's just the realism, you know? My lungs are going to get tight and the water will feel the same and the surface, all of that. I know it's not rational because I'll just respawn no matter what, but still. Can't help but think my brain's going to overreact regardless.”

“We could just skip the rest of the event,” Frank said. “You gained a level and picked up some gear so it's not like we came out here for nothing.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but we burned what, like three hours on the way out? Another couple of hours killing ghosts, three more hours back, if not more.” I shook my head. “I don't want to ever look back on Head Start and wish I'd done more. Had enough of that in my old life.”

“Shall I attempt to dive on your behalf?” House said.

I looked up at her, considering. But then I shook my head. “I appreciate it, but I need to do this myself. Being afraid of drowning in a game where you can't actually drown is just stupid.”

I stepped up to the side of the boat, feeling it rock beneath me. I clamped both of my hands onto the railing and peered down into the depths. “Alright. Swim down, use the key, finish the quest, swim back up.”

“Yup,” Frank said.

I bent my knees and rose onto the balls of my feet, getting ready to dive in. Then I…didn't. I straightened and repeated the process. “Alright. Can you give me a countdown?”

“Three,” Frank said. “Two. One.”

I rocked back, then dove in headfirst. The water was far colder than it'd been before, but the sensation was still distant and muted. I kicked my way underwater, training my eyes on the shipwreck far below, willing myself not to look up no matter how badly I wanted to.

On the one hand, I'd misjudged the distance: the wreck was more like forty or fifty feet deep. But I also hadn't accounted for how quickly my new body could swim. The descent was still terrifying—I felt the pressure building between my temples and behind my eyes—and my lungs were tightening in that all-too-familiar way as my Breath bar ticked down—but I was doing it.

I reached the ocean floor with 62% of my Breath remaining, which seemed like more than enough to scout things out and return to the surface.

The green lights haunting the wreck were, unfortunately, ghosts. Powerful ones.

{Drowned Royal Guard} (Level 10 Undead) (Veteran)

H.P: 700/700

M.P: 300/300

Given my experience with the level 9 ghosts from earlier, I doubted I had any chance against a Veteran mob while underwater: not only would I be too slow to kite effectively, as the mobs ghosted around at a surprising clip, but I couldn't spare the time required with my Breath at risk of zeroing out.

The wreck itself was in remarkable condition, though. It had sunk straight down to the bottom and settled neatly on the ocean floor, one of its three masts still standing tall and proud. The sails had rotted away and there was an enormous hole in the side of the boat, but it was in surprisingly good condition.

A pair of ghosts pathed back and forth in front of an ornate door near the back of the deck, so I figured that might be where I needed to use my key.

I swam closer, gauging the distance between the two mobs and memorizing their paths. If I waited for the one who was closest to the door to path away, it seemed like I'd have enough time to open the door, peek inside, then hightail it back to the surface without drawing its attention. And at the very least, I'd know I was headed in the right direction.

I waited for the ghost to drift off, then kicked forward with everything I had, gliding through the water at a quick pace. My Breath was at 50% when I reached the door, so I still had a little bit of wiggle room. I opened my inventory, selected the key, then popped it into my hands.

I jammed it into the keyhole, turned it, and nothing. This was the wrong door.

The entire boat lit up as emerald light flashed behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder to find the nearest Royal Guard pointing a blunderbuss in my direction, a green sphere of energy spinning just beyond the barrel.

I cursed and kicked off the deck, angling toward the surviving mast. A ladder ran up its length so I grabbed it and used it to climb toward the glimmering surface, taking the rungs four or five at a time, kicking off with each step for a huge burst of speed.

A deep concussion sounded from below, then a green projectile detonated just above me. The explosion threw me backward, a rung ripping away in my hands as I spun sideways, losing track of the surface. I checked my Health: that attack had knocked me all the way down to 45%.

A second, equally muted explosion followed. The flash allowed me to get my bearings. But just as I started kicking for the surface, I felt something cold and heavy wrap around my ankles, binding them together—a section of green, magical chain.

I checked my status and found a debuff beside my nameplate—my movement speed had been reduced by 60%, and my Breath was down to 20%. I pumped my arms, trying to get away from the mob before it could launch another attack.

But it ghosted straight at me from below, the barrel of its weapon pointed in my direction, another sphere of green energy spinning amid the dark water.

I thrashed upward and watched my Breath tick down to 15%, to 10%, with six full seconds still remaining on the snare, the chain still wrapped tightly around my ankles.

I flipped myself around, angling myself so my stomach faced the approaching ghost and my back toward the surface, then I activated Souldrift.

I shot backward through the water, rising toward the surface at incredible speed. The spell hit its max range and completed, leaving me only about ten feet left to swim.

My lungs burned as the last few points of Breath trickled away, then the bar zeroed out completely and I lost another 10% of my Health, dropping me to 35%. I flailed my arms as hard as I could, eyeing the surface, willing myself the last few feet.

A ball of green light shot up out of the depths and hovered only a few feet from my face, spinning slightly. I cursed, and a few bubbles escaped my lips and rose toward the surface.

Then the ball exploded, and my vision went red.

You died!

You lost 20 Renown!

You dropped 2 items!

Return to your corpse to respawn or speak to a Graveyard Ghost (respawning via a Ghost will result in an additional Renown Penalty).

I gasped as I popped into ghost form in an island graveyard on a patch of golden sand that rose only a foot or two above the waves. “Frank?” I said. No response. I took a minute to collect myself—my heart was still hammering in my chest—then opened up my inventory.

I'd lost the key as well as my bracers, so no big deal there, but apparently Frank and I couldn't communicate if I was dead. I put my hands on my knees and just breethd for a moment, trying to clear my head and slow my racing pulse.

But really…it hadn't been so bad. Even there at the end when my Breath ran out, it hadn't been anything like the real thing, and for once, I was more than grateful for the departure of reality. It should have gone without saying that drowning wouldn't be torturous here, but it was a huge relief to have experienced it and found out just how vanilla it was.

I opened my mini map, spotting the corpse icon to the south. It looked like a couple minutes' run at most. I ran down the beach and sprinted over the waves, leaping the breakers as they foamed in.

I pulled my death alerts back up, wincing at the loss of Renown. 20 didn't hurt too bad, but that was double what I'd lost the first time around, so I fully expected to lose 40 the next time, then 80 and so on.

The numbers would start slow, but if I was going to spend months or even years in this game, every death mattered; at the rate I was currently going, it wouldn't be long before I was losing several hundred Renown points at a time.

I spotted the boat in short order, where House was still gripping the steering wheel while peering into the depths below without a hint of emotion on her face.

Once I got within twenty feet of the vessel the respawn button popped up, but I hesitated. Maybe I could put this death to good use.

I stared down at the ocean's surface, where the water rippled around my feet. I thought about sinking down into the water and my stomach dropped out as I fell right down into the ocean without so much as a splash.

I kicked under the water and sped down into the depths, zooming along three or maybe even four times as fast as I'd managed before. I could still spot the mobs pathing around the wreck, lighting it up as they drifted around, but they paid me no mind as I blew by them and swam down to inspect the hole in the ship's side.

Another Royal Guard stood just inside the entrance, which was definitely going to be a problem. But there wasn't anything I could do about that for now, so I swam right by him and started exploring the cavity.

The hole opened up to a narrow hallway with doors on either side, though the roof had collapsed to the left and that door looked entirely inaccessible.

I swam over to the other door, pulling myself to eye level with its doorknob and the keyhole beneath. I didn't really think it would work, but I tried to spawn the key into my palm to be sure and was rewarded with a prompt that said I couldn't do that while I was dead. I pressed an eye to the keyhole; from the shape of it, I thought I was probably in the right place.

I kicked back out and passed the Royal Guard, did a quick circle around the wreck to make sure I hadn't missed anything, then swam up to the surface and respawned a little beneath the boat, where the key as well as my lost bracers floated about. I looted them, surfaced, then hauled myself up over the edge and flopped between the benches.

“Have you succeeded?” House said.

“Nope,” I said. “Died again.” I reequipped my bracers.

“You good?” Frank said. “Wanted to warn you about that chain snare thing, but you know the drill.”

“Yeah, all good, I'm fine,” I said. “Scary at first, but drowning doesn't seem so bad.”

“Nope,” Frank said.

“Did you get to see any of that corpse stuff?” I said.

“Nope,” Frank said. “You got splatted by that mob, then everything on my end faded to black.”

“Ah,” I said. “Was wondering about that. Long story short, I ran back and explored the wreck in ghost form. Pretty sure I found the right door. Tucked into that hole in the ship, right?”

“You got it,” Frank said.

I looked over at House. “Can I take you up on that offer to drown yourself?”

“Certainly,” House said.

“Alright, here's the plan. All I need you to do is swim down with me and get the attention of this guard. You don't even need to hit him—just swim close, then try to get away the moment he targets you. They hit hard, but you'll probably survive a good bit longer than I did. Just keep swimming.”

“Just keep swimming,” House repeated. “Just keep swimming.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You ready?”

“I am prepared to drown,” House said.

“Alright. Follow me.” I dove back in headfirst, and a second splash to my left indicated House had done so as well. This time I swam straight for the surviving mast, which was maybe twenty feet deep, and used the sunken ladder to propel myself down toward the deck.

I glanced back at House, and her mimicry paid off for once; she duplicated my movements exactly, all the way down to which rungs I'd grabbed and so on.

I gave the deck and its two patrolling ghosts a wide berth and swam over to the hole, pointing in that direction. I couldn't see the ghost that guarded the inner cavity quite yet, but the eerie green light shining out of the hole was unmistakable.

I positioned myself just outside the hole, then pointed House in. And to my great surprise, she actually swam in and grabbed the mob's attention, then swam alongside the wreck, pulling it away from me.

I waited until it was clear of the hole, then spun around and drifted into the wreck, popping back into place beside the door with my inventory already open. I popped the key into my palm, jammed it into the lock and twisted.

The lock clicked, so I pushed the door open and swam inside. The room beyond was a small bedroom, the remains of what had once been a four-poster bed shoved into one corner and what appeared to be a vanity in another.

Four bodies drifted about the room, none of which had had enough time to decay. The first two bodies were riddled with deep cuts and stab wounds, the third had a two-inch hole in his sternum, while the fourth held a bloody saber in one hand and a blunderbuss in the other.

And the fourth body—the queen, no doubt—was glowing with blue sparks. I swam over and looted the body, grabbing a ring and triggering a pair of prompts.

You received {Ring of the Pirate Queen}!

Renown Event Alert!

Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) has looted the {Ring of the Pirate Queen}! This item is guaranteed to drop on death, but if player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) reaches the Pirate King with the ring in hand, the event will be complete!

I swam out of the chamber, kicking off the walls and pulling myself through the doorway. I got about ten feet into the open water before the ghost reappeared, gliding alongside the wreck from the same direction House had dragged it in.

I squinted ahead. A dark shape floated in the water a few hundred feet away, likely House from the looks of it. I winced and swam up around the deck, used the ladder to return most of the way to the surface, then Souldrifted up beside the boat.

I hauled myself out of the water and flopped onto the nearest bench.

“Nice,” Frank said.

“Yeah, that worked well. Wish House hadn't died, though.”

“Didn't seem to bother her very much the first time around,” Frank said. “And that time she was basically cut in half.”

“True,” I said. I opened up my map and checked for our next destination; a glowing circle of light even farther to the north.

A few moments later, House broke the surface. “Was my presence useful?” she said as she swam over.

I leaned over the boat and offered her a hand up. “Sure was!” I said. “Got the item we needed. Thanks, House. I really appreciate it.”

“Excellent,” House said. She took my hand, and I pulled her back into the boat. “It pleases me to be considered advantageous by those around me. Is this considered a humanlike reaction?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” I said.

“Excellent,” House repeated.

I shivered. My skin was thoroughly goosebumped and my robes were soaked and hanging heavy on my shoulders, but damn did it feel good to have that dive behind me. I inspected the ring I'd looted, but unfortunately it was a quest item rather than a piece of gear:

{Ring of the Pirate Queen} (Quest Item)

Quality: Rare

I popped it into my palm. It was a simple golden band, likely a wedding ring. “Alright, House. Next area's due north as well.”

House grabbed the wheel and steered us onward.

We sailed on through the last rays of daylight, the horizon colored in reds and purples, the stars beginning to pop overhead.

I opened my map just in time to see a new section reveal itself, a large area called The Aquarium. “You got any info on this?” I said. “The Aquarium?”

“It's a higher-level spot,” Frank said. “Couldn't mention it until you'd discovered it, but it does present a bit of a problem given the direction we're headed.”

I stood up and looked around. “I don't see anything different from the last—” I cut off as the boat jerked to a stop and threw me onto the forward railing, which I almost held onto.

Instead, I rolled out of the boat and flopped hard on my side. The ice was bitterly cold beneath me, and entirely solid, for better or worse.

“I apologize,” House said as she craned her head over the side of the boat. “It appears the ice is too thick to break through here.”

“Oof,” I said. “That was not enjoyable.” I scrambled to my feet, scuffing and scraping at the ice for purchase, displacing the thin layer of snow that rested atop it. A flash of color caught my eye, and I stopped dead, staring down through the small window I'd created.

The ice was impossibly transparent; I could see sapphire fish darting through the waters below, flitting around a skyscraper-sized tower of bright red coral. “Woah,” I said as I scuffed away a bit more snow, revealing an electric blue arch that ended only a few feet below the ice. It almost looked like a sunken city that'd been reclaimed by the ocean. “Are we…supposed to go down there?” I said. “Tell me we aren't going down there.”

“I advise against going down there,” Frank said. “However, I would also advise getting back into the boat as quickly as possible. High-level area, remember?”

“Right,” I said. I pulled myself away from the entrancing ice, stealing a few glances as I slid-walk-stumbled back toward the boat.

“How shall we proceed from here?” House said.

“Good question,” I said. “Can we pull back and go around this area? I'm assuming it being a high-level area means we're going to run into stuff we can't handle sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, “going around it is possible.”

I didn't like the way he'd said possible, so I pulled up my mini map. Now that we'd discovered The Aquarium—a thin area that stretched for miles in either direction—I could see the problem. Going around it was an option, but one that would cost us hours.

The Aquarium was a horseshoe that hugged the far northern reaches of the world, save for a small still-unrevealed gap far, far to the west. I pointed to the darkened area, which appeared to lead directly into the tight circle of light that the Pirate Event indicated. “How long would it take us to get there?”

“About five hours,” Frank said. “And if you wanted to leave that way, we'd be adding another five to the trip back. So, ten plus the usual four or so back.”

“Ten extra hours of travel time?” I said. “That would take us all the way to the end of the Head Start. That is not an option. We already burned enough time heading this far out. Maybe we try to punch through The Aquarium?” I glanced at my map again. “Looks like we could angle a bit to the northeast and cut through it where it's thinnest. Can't be long that way, right?”

“Nah, and we can attempt crossing it,” Frank said. “But if you die, it might get tricky. You could easily die next to a bunch of mobs and drop that ring, then be unable to recover it without dying again, rinse, repeat.”

“True,” I said. “Another death would suck, but dying and losing out on the ring would be so much worse. What do you think our odds of making it are if we cut across?”

“Maybe 75%?” Frank said. “You saw the sunken city already. Most of the mobs are way down on the ocean floor, meaning they're too far away to aggro. It's doable, but there are some patrollers who come closer up that could give us trouble.”

“Pretty good odds,” I said. “But running across all this ice seems like it would take a while, too. I wonder… House, can you hop out?”

House jumped out of the boat, instantly lost her footing, and slammed onto her back.

I sighed. “I didn't mean you literally had to hop out with both feet.”

“But I appreciated it nonetheless,” Frank said. “That was awesome.”

“In retrospect, I now realize your suggestion of hopping out was a colloquialism,” House said. “And that given a near-frictionless surface, a more cautious approach would have been merited.”

“Very true,” I said. I unsummoned the boat, which took ten full seconds to drop into my inventory, then summoned it directly onto the ice after another ten.

The boat resolved a few inches above the ice and smashed down onto it, and though the noise made me wince, the ice didn't so much as chip, let alone crack.

“Shall I…hop…back into the boat?” House said. She squinted at the boat, frowning. “For clarity's sake, I am speaking informally. I have zero plans to hop aboard, as that would likely result in a second fall.”

“Yeah, climb back in,” I said, laughing a bit under my breath. “I dunno how well this is actually going to work, but let's give it a shot.” I hauled myself in and looked down at Frank. “Is this actually going to work?”

“Uh,” Frank said. “The boat's definitely going to move, if that's what you mean. Devs knew people would use boats here. Soul Machinist even has a low-level boat that's specifically made for this sort of thing. But saying it's going to work might be a bit strong.”

House placed her hands on the steering wheel. “I am ready to proceed.”

I sat down between two of the benches and braced myself for whatever was about to happen. “Then let's proceed.”

“Proceeding,” House said as the sail pulled taut and the boat scraped into motion.

“This isn't so bad,” I said as the craft inched forward at about a walking pace. “Seems a bit slower than…” I trailed off, looking around. “Oh. We're still picking up speed, huh?”

“We're just getting started,” Frank said.

The boat shot forward, pressing me back into the bench I was bracing myself with. The force dissipated as the initial burst of acceleration faded and the craft reached what I really hoped was its top speed.

House stared blankly ahead, hands clamped firmly about the steering wheel, tears running freely from her eyes. The ice was blurring by so quick that it could have passed for a sheet of glass. “I find this pleasing,” she said.

“I find it pleasing too,” Frank said, in a tone of voice that was not at all convincing. “I'm so not terrified right now.”

“How fast are we going?” I said, shouting the words over the wind.

“Uh,” Frank said. “Really, really fast.”

“I approximate our current speed at about fifty-three miles per hour, sir.”

“That is a really specific guess,” Frank said.

I sat bolt upright. I wasn't sure what it was, but something had definitely changed. It was as if the pressure had suddenly dropped. I looked all around, ignoring the air blasting across my face and tearing at my clothing. “You guys feel that?”

“Crap,” Frank said. “House, nothing's wrong. There is zero need to panic.”

“The fact that you felt it necessary to insist there is no reason to panic is causing me to believe there is indeed reason to panic,” House said.

“That's a pretty good point, Frank,” I said. “Something is obviously wrong, right? I can feel it too.”

About twenty feet behind us, a dark shape glided beneath the ice, and the foot-thick sheet crackled and rippled in its wake. Whatever the shape was, it was absolutely titanic.

“Frank?” I said. “What the hell is that? And is it trying to kill us? Never mind, stupid question.”

“Smooth sailing, House!” Frank said. “I am relaxed and you should be too because everything is going to plan.”

“A relaxed person rarely, if ever, has cause to shout.” House glanced back over her shoulder just as a thirty-foot wide swath of ice bulged upward, then shattered. “Oh. I see that I was correct in assuming there is indeed reason to panic! This also pleases me.”

“Don't panic House,” Frank said. “We need you to stay sharp.”

“It seems that I lack the emotional depth to panic,” House said, “and I therefore find your concerns unmerited, and your shouting unnecessary. I will continue to pilot the boat as necessary.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “Well, good.”

An enormous black and white shape dove high into the air. The creature looked a bit like an orca, though it had two tails and the oversized fangs of an anglerfish.

{Murderfish} (Level ?? Beast)

H.P: 1,400/1,400

“Oh man,” I said as the creature's leap hit its apex, beads of water glittering all around it. It crashed down and smashed its way through the ice, which didn't slow its pursuit in the slightest. “That is one nasty fish.”

I ran to the back of the boat and took up a position in front of the rear bench. I popped my staff into my hand and wound up a Horrify, my fingers blurring through the motions.

The shadowy skull shot forward and sank effortlessly through the ice. At first nothing happened, then a yellow word drifted up from beneath the frozen sheet: Resist.

“Good call, keep 'em coming,” Frank said.

“How can I be of assistance?” House said. “Shall I throw myself overboard in an attempt to distract the creature?”

“I need you on the wheel,” I said, because I was pretty sure I was the fish's target. “Just keep us moving and don't wreck the boat.”

I threw out another Horrify and the spell procced a duplicate, launching a pair of dark skulls that were almost on top of each other.

Two spells, two resists. I kept at it. “Frank, what level is this thing?”

“This zone is for levels 17 to 20,” Frank said. “That's all I got.”

I winced and tossed out another Horrify to the same result as the creature dove back into the air and smashed down only a few feet behind the boat, blasting us with frozen shrapnel and icy water.

Given how close the last dive had been, it seemed a near certainty the next one would end up with the whale crashing down on top of us.

I kept the spells coming, burning through my Mana at an incredible rate, getting three more resisted spells off before the creature went airborne yet again.

I finished another Horrify just as the fish hit its apex, willing the skull to actually do something. It splashed home, and this time the fear icon popped up above the creature's nameplate.

Wasn't much to celebrate there, though; the Murderfish was still falling. And judging from the speed it'd launched itself at, it was indeed going to smash through our tiny boat dead center.

“Got it,” I said.

“Please grab the railing,” House said as she spun the wheel hard to the left.

I clamped a hand to the railing as the boat spun ninety degrees and drifted like a streetcar around a corner, its wooden side screeching across the ice.

The creature bludgeoned through the very spot we'd been riding over only a split second before, dove just beneath the ice, then streaked away from the boat with the same blistering speed it had approached with.

“It actually worked?” I said. “I can't believe it actually worked. Are we good?” I said. The creature had disappeared from sight, but I still had the same feeling of impending doom.

“That was a very stimulating event,” House said. “I enjoyed that very much.” She leveled the boat back out, gliding it smoothly northward.

“Stimulating,” Frank repeated. “Sure, let's go with stimulating.”

The feeling of doom lifted then, as if some unseen weight had slipped from my shoulders, and I could breathe easily again. “Yeah, I think we're good. Can we avoid those things in the future?”

“Not really,” Frank said. “They're too far below the ice for you to see from up here. But the aggro radius is huge because of the level difference.”

The ice thinned up ahead, the glazed surface giving way to a white, endless sheet that was by now very familiar.

We plowed right into it, and though the rear of the boat lifted slightly with the sudden increase in friction, it quickly slammed back into place and we returned to knifing through the ice.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Darkness had fallen by the time we drew close to what I hoped was our final destination. The stars had truly popped overhead, as if some celestial light switch had been thrown, so many of them shining that the sky appeared foggy with light.

The ice had thinned to a few patchwork pieces, too, the waves little more than a series of gentle swells.

“Dumb ass moon,” Frank muttered under his breath.

Hadn't noticed that but he was right; the moon was definitely rising, green and emerald-bright behind us.

“Has the moon wronged you?” House said.

“Damn straight it has,” Frank said. “It's green and I hate it.”

“That doesn't seem like a very good reason to hate the moon,” House said. She looked to me. “Am I correct in that assumption?”

“Well—” I started.

“Ned hates the moon too,” Frank cut in.

“The green one,” I clarified. “I have zero issues with the real moon. I just think the re-color thing was lazy.”

House hesitated, puzzled. “Shall I too despise the moon?”

“That would probably be for the best,” I said, laughing the last few words.

“Understood,” House said. “Now that I too look upon the moon with disdain, it should be noted that if we assume an Earth-like gravitational field, given the moon's estimated mass and adjacency, the continued proximity of its orbit is mathematically improbable.”

“Oh snap,” Frank said, “shots fired! Suck on that, Mathematically Implausible Moon.”

“Indeed, Moon,” House said as she shook a small fist up at the night sky in wildly overdramatic fashion.

I snorted. Then I noticed lights brightening on the horizon, flickering over the dark water like torchlight. The lights grew brighter as we ghosted through the rolling waves, gradually resolving into a swarm of smaller boats all ringed up around a black-sailed pirate ship easily the size of a modern-day cruise liner.

It had thirteen sails in all, the tallest among them reaching hundreds of feet into the night sky. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the scale of the thing; it looked more like a floating city than a ship.

And as we drew closer, I realized the boats ringed up around it weren't small at all. Every single one of them dwarfed our current vessel.

Wooden walkways and hanging bridges had been constructed between them, and the boats were set in a loose ring, treating the giant vessel at the center as if it were a makeshift island.

But what really caught my attention were the nameplates that populated the boats, all of which were bright red.

And though I couldn't quite make out the figures they belonged to from so far off, they were obviously moving, hundreds of them swarming off the nearest ships and pouring into long, sleek sailboats. Oh. They were pirates.

And they were headed our way.

“Uh,” I said. “Can we talk about the pirate army that's rapidly approaching in obviously superior boats?” I inspected the nearest mob.

{North Sea Cutthroat} (Level ?? Human)

H.P: 32,000/32,000

M.P: 14,000/14,000

“What about them?” Frank said.

“What about them?” I repeated. “Is that a serious question? Do you not find an approaching army to be wildly disconcerting?”

“Not particularly,” Frank said. “But I am all that is man, and you are not.”

I pulled up my mini map. We were definitely in the right place, but if the mobs were hostile…

“Shall I turn the boat around and attempt to escape?” House said.

I waved her off; this had to be some kind of quest thing. I pulled the ring out of my inventory, then raised it above my head.

“Speech!” Frank said.

“…What?” I said.

“You gotta give a speech,” Frank said. “Right now.”

“What?” I repeated. “I'm not giving a speech. What would I even talk about? Plus if I actually did have to give a speech, I don't think you'd be allowed to tell me to do that. That'd be quest info.”

“A long, eloquent speech that wins them over to our cause,” Frank said. “Make it super inspiring or we're all dead.”

“…That's a lot of pressure on short notice,” I said. “And I still don't believe you.”

“Yeah, well,” Frank said, “House and I hate dying, so…speech.”

“All things being equal,” House said, “I would prefer not to die again.”

“You're not gonna die, House,” I said. “And Frank is basically immortal. He's just being weird.”

“How're you gonna rule the world if you don't even have the balls to give a speech?” Frank said.

“I've given plenty of speeches,” I said. “I just think you're insane and I don't get why you're fixating on this.” I waved the bauble high above my head and took a deep breath. “I found this on a body far to the south. I believe it belongs to the Pirate Queen.”

The oncoming pirates slowed and looked to their leaders.

“Terrible speech,” Frank said. “Just terrible. I give that speech three thumbs down.”

“Shut up,” I said. “You don't even have thumbs.”

The pirates approached, some of the closer ones whirling grappling hooks above their heads.

I jerked backward as several of the projectiles hit home, metal claws thumping into our boat, the chains going taut, the claws digging in deep. Then, thankfully, the pirates' nameplates went yellow.

“We're here to—” I cut off as one of the pirates pointed a pistol-like firearm in my direction.

“Quiet,” he said. “And sit down.”

I dropped into my seat.

“You don't even have thumbs,” Frank said in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “Pretty bold coming from the guy who obviously doesn't have a spine.”

House looked at me, a concerned look blooming across her face. “What happened to your spine?”

“I've been asking that every day since he arrived,” Frank said.

“These guys just went neutral,” I said. “I'd like to keep it that way. And we're here to finish a Renown Event, not make some kind of pointless statement about how brave we are. If the guy pointing a gun at you says jump, you jump.”

“Or you could bellow a war cry and charge suicidally in his direction.”

“I worry about you sometimes,” I said. “The fact that you can use a word like suicidally while still thinking you're making a point.”

A gunshot sounded from nearby and the water beside me exploded upward, drenching me completely. I stared at the impact zone, where the water itself sparked and steamed as if the bullet had been electrified.

“Shut. Up,” the pirate said. His gun was pointed right at me, and lightning crackled within the barrel. “Or the next bullet takes your head off.”

I held my hands up in mock surrender, and after an awkward pause, House did the same.

“Let's drag them,” the pirate said to his crew. “We'll let the king decide if he's telling the truth.” He gave me a hard look. “Or if this is just another conman trying to make a quick buck with a fake ring.”

We bobbed along in silence, our small craft being towed in by two larger, three-masted ships. The pirates delivered us to a floating dock, where a number of ships were just behind the giant vessel.

The vast majority of the pirates disembarked and went back to work immediately, some scrubbing decks and transferring goods from ship to ship while others returned to card games, with rum barrels serving as tables and chairs. One woman climbed up into the crow's nest of one of the taller nearby ships and swept a spyglass across the open ocean.

But the pirate who'd spoken and nearly shot me dead motioned me out of the boat, then stuck the barrel of his gun between my shoulder blades. “Down the dock,” he said. He nodded to House. “You too. Stay in front where I can see you.”

House moved in beside me and we made our way off the docks and toward the back of the huge vessel, where a makeshift elevator powered by a hand crank at the top hung suspended from wooden scaffolding.

Glass globes were strung between the beams by way of thin wires, and a filament burned orange within each of the lanterns, keeping the lift eerily aglow.

The platform dropped as we approached while two pirates worked the crank from above. It settled just above the water, our captor motioned us onto it, and the platform shuddered back into motion.

It took a few minutes for the elevator to draw level with the deck, then it rose another ten feet before settling into place atop another scaffolding tower, allowing for an aerial view of the deck. Which was not at all what I'd expected.

The entire interior of the ship was hollow, with an open-air courtyard at the bottom and multiple tiered sections rising all around it. From above, it almost looked like a shopping mall.

Long ropes hung down from the masts high above, dangling between the different levels of the floating city, and pirates were swinging from floor to floor, navigating the different levels with practiced ease.

Our captor pushed us along from there, leading us down a wooden staircase and onto the actual deck. He pointed at what looked like a gray pipe up ahead, set just a few feet away from the edge of the top deck. “That's your way down.”

I stepped up to the edge of the deck, stomach twisting as I took in the view below. I counted nine levels in all, and the pole he'd gestured to led all the way down to the courtyard. It was also set about three feet from the deck.

“Make sure you get a good grip,” the pirate said, “otherwise the clean-up crew isn't going to be very happy with you.” He chuckled. “With what's left of you, anyway.” He gestured at the pole with his gun. “Down you go.”

I took a deep breath, stepped to the very edge of the platform, then leaped and grabbed the pole, wrapping my legs around it as soon as I made contact.

“Bah,” the pirate said, seeming disappointed that I hadn't missed the pole. “Don't get any ideas about trying to slip loose on another deck. Ain't nowhere to go. Head on down to the courtyard.”

I nodded and relaxed my grip slightly, allowing myself to slide downward, getting a quick peek at each tier as I went.

The top floor was smoky, the very edges of the platform lined with smitheries and forges, and the haze prevented me from seeing much beyond the first few buildings.

The next was a cramped market with busy, narrow walkways and countless stalls, the nearest of which sold fresh fish packed with ice.

On and on it went, with each new tier holding a different purpose, though three entire floors were devoted to working the countless cannons that occupied them.

I glanced down as I reached the last few levels and saw a trio of guards standing around the pole, waiting for me to reach the bottom. I relaxed my grip a bit more and shot down the last fifteen feet, planted my feet and immediately stepped away from the pole.

House landed beside me a few moments later, and the guards led us down a red, carpeted walkway flanked to either side by marble statues of men and women, all of them armed to the teeth with sabers, rifles, and pistols, each looking every bit a king or queen in their own right.

An elegant pagoda stood at the far end of the courtyard, underneath which a group of men and women laughed and chatted around a long table while waiters flitted around, filling glasses with red wine and doling out seafood as they went: tuna, scallops, fire-blackened octopus, and the like, the mingling scents making my mouth water.

At the head of the table sat a grizzled old man with a massive black rifle slung around his shoulder and a black captain's hat riding low on his forehead, shielding his eyes. He wore a heavy red and black jacket, and I had no doubt that if he stood, the hem would reach his shins despite his ample height.

“Psst,” Frank said under his breath. “There's a trainer nearby. But they can't help you quite yet, so I can't identify them.”

I frowned down at him, unsure what to make of that. I popped the ring back into the palm of my hand and curled my fingers around it.

The laughter died out by degrees as we approached, heads swiveling in our direction. The king cleared his throat, and all conversation ceased, every pair of eyes sliding to him at once, wine glasses half-cocked and forgotten.

“What is this?” the king said. His voice was deep and raspy, a baritone that matched his stature.

Our captor shoved House and I forward at the same time, and I stumbled up the stairs onto the pavilion's raised floor, barely managing to keep my footing while House caught herself immediately.

“Speech,” Frank whispered.

I rolled my eyes, thrust out my arm, and opened my hand palm-up, with the ring front and center.

The king swallowed, the apple of his throat rising, then falling. “Is that…” he trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. He waved me closer. “Come here. I need a closer look.”

I stepped up to the long table, plucked the ring up between thumb and forefinger, and dropped it into his waiting palm.

Each of his fingers were covered with jeweled rings—diamonds, rubies, emeralds—except for the ring finger of his right hand, which was adorned with a simple band that perfectly matched the one I'd brought him.

The king stared at the ring for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “Leave us.”

A round of murmurs went around the table.

The king slammed a fist onto the table, splintering the wood and sending the other end jumping into the air, plates and drinks flying from the table and shattering against the ground. “Leave!” he roared.

The other pirates fled the scene—even my escort—some of them tipping their chairs over in their haste to leave.

The king kicked a chair from underneath the table, sending it skidding toward me.

I seated myself and waited for him to speak, but instead he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, the ring still sitting in his free hand.

He took a deep breath and slipped the ring into his breast pocket. “Where did you find this?”

“On a shipwreck to the south,” I said.

“How…how was she?” the king said. “How did she die?”

“Drowned, I imagine,” I said. “I found her in what I think were her private quarters. She still clutched a saber, and there were three bodies in there with her.”

“Went down swinging, did she?”

I nodded. Wasn't sure what to say.

“That's my girl,” he said, his voice cracking at the end. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

I was surprised to find I felt some small fraction of his grief deep in my chest; his reaction to the news I'd brought was so realistic and his pain so genuine that for a moment I'd actually forgotten he wasn't human.

“After these long few weeks,” he said, “I still hoped it wouldn't come to this, but some part of me knew it would. And no matter what, it is good to know.”

A trade window popped up onto my screen, entirely full of Epic gear: axes, staves, daggers, bows, armor, jewelry, anything and everything a budding adventurer could want.

“I have no need for gifts,” the king said. “You've brought me something of great value today, and the customs of my people dictate I return the favor in kind.”

I skimmed over the gear he had on offer, a grin spreading across my face.

The staff he had was only slightly better than the one I'd recently found, but every other item I could equip represented a massive upgrade. Two options really jumped off the page, though.

{Gloves of the Rising Tide}

Grade: E

Item Level: 19

Slot: Hands

Type: Cloth

Quality: Epic

Primaries: +5 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom

Secondaries: +3% Critical Strike Chance

Effect: You gain 1 stack of {Rising Tide} whenever you deal a Critical Strike, increasing your Critical Strike Chance by 1%. This effect stacks up to 5 times. Effect lasts 20 seconds and all stacks beyond the 5th will refresh the effect's duration.

Armor: +2%

{Seabreak Amulet}

Grade: E

Item Level: 19

Slot: Neck

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +3 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom, +3 Constitution, +3 Charisma

Secondaries: +1% Haste, +1% Critical Strike Chance, +1% Chance to Hit

Magical Resistance: +10%

Frank cleared his throat, and I glanced down at him, but he didn't elaborate. I hesitated. Maybe he wanted to but couldn't? He'd already mentioned that there were trainers on this boat, but that they weren't able to help me quite yet…

I eyed the rifle that poked over the Pirate King's left shoulder. Intricate runes lined its long, dark barrel, the end of which was capped with a black crystal instead of a sight.

“Is that gun…magic?” I said, thinking back to the way that pirate's bullet had electrocuted the waters and the sparks that had decorated his weapon in the warning shot's aftermath.

The king reached back and patted the barrel of his weapon. “That she is. But I'd sooner part with my ship than my weapon.”

“You'd part with your ship?” I said, gazing up at its many levels, at the people swinging through the air above and the masts swaying in the breeze hundreds of feet overhead. “Really?”

“It is tradition,” he said. “When I grow tired of ruling these seas, I will list a price I feel comfortable with. And the buyer will inherit this ship, as well as the title of Pirate King and the control of my fleet.”

“So, you bought it yourself?” I said. “Can I ask what it cost you?”

“Nine hundred thousand gold,” the king said. He smiled slightly. “You should have seen how long it took them to count it. That was a truly glorious day. I expect a sizable return on my investment when the time comes as well. I've done well by my people these last ten years. I am growing tired, though.” He glanced at the empty chair beside him, which was slightly taller than the rest, and his face fell.

I couldn't wrap my head around those numbers, but maybe that was for the best. “Well, safe to say I'm not here to make you an offer on that.”

He chuckled, but it sounded forced. “I didn't think so. Not after hearing about that bathtub you sailed in on. A brave thing, to cross the cold sea in such a small vessel.”

I took one last longing look at the trade window and its contents, sighed, then clicked out of it.

The king frowned. “I've nothing else of note I'm willing to part with. Whether my equipment is useful to you or not, I insist you take something in exchange.”

He opened the trade window again, and after scanning it to make sure he hadn't added anything new, I canceled it a second time.

“I don't mean to be insulting,” I said, “and nearly every piece of gear you've offered would be more than useful to me, but can I request something else instead?”

The king shrugged. “You can request whatever you'd like. As to whether I'll grant the request, well, that's another matter entirely.”

I pointed at his rifle. “I'd like you to teach me how to use something like that.”

The king steepled his fingers atop the table. “Train you? Well now, that is an interesting request, particularly coming from one of your kind. You are a Fae, yes? A Woodbone? I heard there's been trouble out that way of late.” He leaned forward. “Any truth to that?”

I hesitated, unsure as to how much I wanted to divulge. “Trouble is likely an understatement,” I said.

“I see. I am no friend to the Fae, but say I were to train you, how would you use that knowledge?”

I thought about that for a moment, trying to figure out what the king wanted to hear. “I'd use it to protect my interests. And those of the people I care about.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “A safe answer. But the Fae possess incredibly powerful magic, and to pair that power with the skills my people have developed over the years…that is a combination I'm not keen to release upon the world.

“And maybe, more importantly, doing so would likely go against my own interests.” He gave me a hard, scrutinizing look. “May we speak plainly?”

“Of course.”

“In all of my dealings with your people, I have found them to be trustworthy when it suits them, but spiteful to a fault.”

“It sounds like you think better of them than I do,” I said.

“I see,” he said. “I've also heard that a large fleet of Woodbone Fae is currently crossing the southern ocean, though their destination is unknown.”

“They're heading for the Onyx Sands,” I said. “You don't need to worry about them.”

“Anytime a people suddenly take to the seas, I worry,” the king said. “The waves are a drug, boy. Their pull is not to be underestimated.”

“What is it you want from me?” I said.

“I want to know that if I agree to train you, I'm not arming a people who might give us trouble in the future.”

I bit my lip, stalling for time. I considered revealing that the Woodbone wanted me dead, and the last thing I'd do would be to help them out, but if the king was looking to avoid confrontation, defining myself as the declared enemy of the people he feared seemed like a bad angle.

But at the same time, if he was really as cautious as he appeared, I could easily make an enemy of him by obtaining his help without revealing my role in the Woodbone conflict. Still, that seemed like the better risk for now.

“I'm an exile,” I said. “And whatever the Woodbone are—and whatever they become—they are not my people. And it's abundantly clear that they never will be.”

“An exile, eh?” he said. “By choice?”

“Yes,” I replied. It was a bit of a lie, but hopefully a defensible one; I hadn't chosen to exile myself—not exactly—but I'd killed the Symphonist knowing that would probably be the result.

“Very well,” the king said. “If you wish it, I will train you in exchange for the peace you've brought me.”

I held his eyes and nodded, barely able to contain my excitement. A prompt appeared.

Do you wish to learn {Enchanted Firearms}?

Warning: You will be unable to learn another skill until you reach level 15.

I stared at the prompt, my mouth hanging slightly open. I couldn't believe it had actually worked.

{Enchanted Firearms}

Allows the user to equip magically enhanced Pistols (One-handed, Dual Wieldable), Rifles (Two-handed), and Shotguns (Two-handed).

“Aww, yeah,” Frank said. “I was hoping you'd figure that out. Take it. It's as close to awesome as magic is ever gonna get.”

I accepted the prompt.

World Alert: Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) has completed the Pirate King Renown Event!

Congratulations, you completed a Renown Event!

You gained 2,000 Experience!

You gained 150 Renown!

Congratulations, you reached Renown Rank 4: Merchant 2!

You may now select 1 of 3 permanent Renown buffs!

Your reputation with {The Northrunners} has vastly increased!

You are now Friendly with {The Northrunners}!

Congratulations, you learned {Enchanted Firearms}!

I glanced down at Frank, excitement buzzing through me. “So is this our skill? The one we're specializing in? 'Cause being able to use magic guns sounds like the coolest thing ever.”

“Yup,” Frank said.

I pulled up my character sheet, selected the new skill, and chose to specialize in it, which prompted a confirmation window.

Do you wish to specialize in {Enchanted Firearms}?

Warning: Specializing in {Enchanted Firearms} will complete your Tier 2 class change, and you will be unable to specialize in another skill until your Tier 3 class change.

Warning: All class changes are permanent.

“You sure you're good with this?” I said.

“Huh?” Frank said.

“We agreed you'd have a hand in our first class change. And this is it, right? So are you good with this?”

“Uh,” Frank said, seeming genuinely surprised for maybe the first time ever. “Yeah, I'm happy with it. I've been trying to guide us here for a while now, so…”

“Alright. Here. We. Go.” I accepted, triggering a massive flood of prompts.

Server-wide alert!

World-first Alert!

Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) is the first Player to become a Shadeslinger!

Congratulations, you are the first Player to become a Shadeslinger!

Awarding Title: {Slinger Supreme}!

{Slinger Supreme} (Unique Title)

All Enchanted Firearms have a 1.5% increased chance to drop.

Your stats have changed!

Your skill ranks have been preserved, but the requirements to improve them have increased!

You gained the skill: {Leather Armor Proficiency}!

You lost the skill: {Cloth Armor Proficiency}!

You lost the skill: {Staves}

You lack the skill to equip one or more items currently on your person.

One or more items have been unequipped and returned to your inventory.

I raced through the prompts, increasingly overjoyed until I read the last line. Then I looked down and realized I wore nothing but off-white underwear and three pieces of jewelry, plus my invisible cloak. Even my staff had vanished.

“Uhhh,” I said. “This seems…like a problem.” I dug through my inventory and grabbed the two pieces of leather I'd found earlier and threw those on.

{Ghostly Boots of Intelligence}

Grade: E

Item Level: 9

Slot: Feet

Type: Leather

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +4 Intelligence

Armor: +3%

{Ghostly Leg Guards of the Volcano}

Grade: E

Item Level: 9

Slot: Legs

Type: Leather

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Dexterity, +1 Constitution

Armor: +4%

The king reached into the front of his waistband and pulled a long-barreled pistol out by its handle. He flicked his wrist and held out his palm, causing the weapon to spin about and stop with the handle facing toward me.

“Looks like you might be in need of a new weapon,” he said. “It's not nearly as impressive as the other items were, but I hope it serves you well.” He looked me up and down, then gestured at a nearby waiter, who ran off and returned with two pieces of folded white clothing. “It seems you're in need of something to wear, too.”

I inspected the items the waiter held, which were both cosmetic and entirely statless: a loose white shirt and a hood that matched. Regardless, I was relieved; I didn't have any interest in looking like a minimalistic hobo, aka Kline.

I reached out and carefully lifted the firearm from the king's outstretched hand, being especially mindful of the trigger.

You received {King Garithar's Last Resort}!

You received {Plain Whiteweave Shirt}!

You received {Plain Whiteweave Hood}!

The gun was a surprisingly heavy flintlock pistol with a runed wooden handle and a silver barrel. I inspected it.

{King Garithar's Last Resort} (Enchanted Pistol)

Grade: E

Item Level: 11

Damage Type: Magical

Quality: Uncommon

Physical Attack: 0

Magical Attack: 13

Speed: N/A

Primaries: +3 Dexterity

I brought up my new—and, hopefully, improved—stats.

{Ned}, (The First Citizen)

Level: 7

Tier 2 Class: Shadeslinger

Gear Level: 60 61

Strength: 12 18

Dexterity: 34 55

Constitution: 10 20

Intelligence: 47 62

Wisdom: 21 0

Charisma: 15 25

Critical Strike Chance: +2%

Haste Rating: +1% +0%

Chance to Hit: +1% +0%

Physical Attack: 5 0

Magical Attack: 18 13

Health: 80 160

Mana: 470 620

Armor: 17% 8%

Magical Resistance: 38%

I stared at the readout, stunned into silence. Despite having half my gear forcibly unequipped, my stats had improved by leaps and bounds. I now had exactly twice the Health and a third more Mana, plus a massive amount more Dexterity and Intelligence, and even my Charisma and Strength had improved. And uh…then there was Wisdom.

“This looks absolutely amazing,” I said, “but my Wisdom got zeroed out? Or deleted? Please don't tell me I've just lost all my regen or something like that.”

“Nope, that's just your new class passive,” Frank said. “Check it.”

{Reflexive Wisdom} (Shadeslinger Passive)

Effect: Your Mana regeneration is now based on Dexterity, but you no longer benefit from Wisdom.

I let out a relieved breath. “Yeah, that's better.” I paused, the implications sinking in. “That's waaaay better.”

“Thought you'd like it,” Frank said.

“Being able to crank both movement and regen with a single stat?” I said. “Yeah. I like it. That's amazing.”

“It gets better,” Frank said. “This is your new leveling bonus. Keep in mind that your old Dark Mystic bonus of gaining three Dexterity and three Intelligence on level up got folded into this one.”

Shadeslinger Class Bonus: +5 Dexterity per level, +3 Constitution per level, +5 Intelligence per level.

“Oh man,” I said. “That is so, so much better than I was hoping for. I cannot wait to start gaining some actual Health. And now for the best part. Time to check out the new skills.”

{Ravenbolt} has evolved into {Ravenblast}!

{Ravenblast} (Rank: Novice 3)

Description: You shoot an enemy up to 40 yards away with a quick blast of dark energy that deals 65 shadow damage. This spell deals damage based on your Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack. This ability may be cast while moving. This ability causes a high amount of threat.

Cast time: 1.25 seconds.

Cooldown: None.

Cost: 30 Mana.

Next rank: While out of combat, you may Overcharge this spell by casting it for double its normal cast time (2.5 seconds total), increasing the spell's damage by 100%, Mana cost by 100%, and Critical Strike Chance by 20%. Releasing the spell anywhere between the normal cast time and the doubled cast time will release a prorated version.

{Roots of the Underworld Tree} has evolved into {Fettering Shot}!

{Fettering Shot} (Rank: Novice 3)

Description: You shoot an enemy up to 40 yards away with a dark projectile that deals no damage but decreases the target's movement speed by 60% for 3 seconds. For every 2 yards the target moves while under the influence of this spell, their speed will be reduced by an additional 20%. If the target's speed reaches 100% reduction while under the influence of this spell, they will be rooted for 3 seconds.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 20 seconds.

Cost: 40 Mana.

Next rank: Targets are now stunned instead of being rooted upon reaching 100% speed reduction. Duration remains unchanged.

{Horrify} has evolved into {Dreadful Shot}!

{Dreadful Shot} (Rank: Novice 3)

Description: You shoot an enemy up to 40 yards away with a dark projectile that deals no damage but strikes fear into the heart of your target and causes them to flee in a series of random directions for 10 seconds. Damage taken may break this effect. Repeated applications of {Dreadful Shot} on Players and powerful Mobs will result in severely diminished returns.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 10 seconds.

Cost: 80 Mana.

Next rank: You may select one of the following two upgrades:

A. Fleeing targets have their movement speed increased by 25% while {Dreadful Shot} is active, and their movement speed is reduced by 25% for 3 seconds after {Dreadful Shot} expires or is dispelled.

B. Fleeing targets will always attempt to flee directly away from you.

{Soulshatter} has evolved into {Dark Harvest}!

{Dark Harvest} (Rank: Novice 2)

Description: You shoot an enemy up to 25 yards away, dealing 110 shadow damage and causing 60% of that damage to all targets within 7.5 yards. Only usable on targets with less than 30% of their maximum Health remaining. Killing an enemy with {Dark Harvest} will reset its cooldown and refund its Mana cost, but this effect has a 30-second internal cooldown. This spell deals shadow damage based on your Intelligence statistic plus Magical Attack.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 15 seconds.

Cost: 95 Mana.

Next rank: Nearby targets now take 70% of the original spell's damage.

{Souldrift} has evolved into {Shadedrift}!

{Shadedrift} (Rank: Novice 2)

Description: You become incorporeal and drift backward for 25 feet, or until {Shadedrift} is canceled. This spell may be used while stunned. During this spell's duration, all damage you take is reduced by 99% and you are immune to all forms of crowd control. In addition, any enemy you contact while {Shadedrift} is active will be Disoriented for 3 seconds.

Cast time: Instant.

Cooldown: 45 seconds.

Cost: 40 Mana.

Next rank: Range increased by 20% (spell duration is unaffected).

I clasped both of my hands atop my head. “I can't believe how perfect this is. It hits the Health problem, the Mana problem, everything. And it's mobile and just…awesome.”

“I know,” Frank said. “You're welcome.”

I cocked an eyebrow down at him. “Did you do this?”

“Eh,” Frank said. “I can't really do anything, but I knew Shadeslinger was a possibility from the get-go, yeah. So I dropped some hints hoping you'd pick up on them. Felt kinda bad about misleading at first and sticking you with a spellcaster with bad regen, that sorta thing. Kind of. Not really.”

“Thanks, Frank,” I said. “I love it. It's exactly the sort of class I was hoping to end up with when I signed up for E.B.O.”

I looked to the king, who had a sly look on his face. “You seem pleased,” he said.

I glanced down at the gun still in my hand, noticing for the first time that a holster had spawned across from where Frank hung.

I jammed the gun into its holster, unsurprised to find that it was a perfect fit. “Oh, I am. Thank you. I promise you won't regret this.”

“We'll see.” Then his grin deepened into a wide smile as he reached beneath the table and pulled out a massive, copper-plated revolver.

“And if you think that's great...” he said as he manipulated a lever where the safety should have been, causing the barrel to ice over with blue runes.

He flicked the lever again and the runes turned red, causing the barrel to steam, then warm into a molten orange. “Just wait 'til you learn to modify your weapons.”

“Wait, you can do that?” I said. “Can you teach me?”

He squinted. “I could, if the price was right. But you currently lack the skill to learn.”

“It's a profession called Runesmithing,” Frank whispered. “But you can't take a second profession until level 10, remember?”

I winced at that, but Soul Alchemy had done well by me so far, and level 10 wasn't that far off. “Alright,” I said. “I'll come back when I'm ready.”

“You are welcome to return whenever you wish,” the Pirate King said. “So long as you don't arrive empty-handed.” He gazed around the gazebo, at what plates remained on the table. “Is that all, then?” he said. “My people are patient, but you can only put off a feast for so long.” He nodded across the platform, and I followed his gaze to find the vast majority of his companions lingering on the other side.

“However,” the king said, having regained his sly smile, “if you'd be so kind as to join an old man for a couple drinks, you might find a way to negotiate yourself out of that wooden barrel you sailed in on.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

I was drifting in and out of sleep when I experienced a brief moment of weightlessness. Then I experienced an equally brief moment of smashing face-first into the floor of our new boat.

“I apologize,” House said, “but the seas have become too rough for me to fully mitigate the waves.”

I rubbed my eyes and stood up, then slid onto the nearest bench.

The boat we'd bought off the Pirate King—purchased at the exceedingly reasonable price of the boat we'd sailed in on plus some silk cloth I'd found earlier in the day—wasn't a massive upgrade over what we'd started with, but it was definitely better:

{Small Cutter}

Quality: Uncommon

Use: Summons a {Small Cutter} that persists until it is destroyed or dismissed.

Speed: Slow

Max Passengers: 3

Max Trade Packs: 6

Cast time: 10 seconds

It was narrower and longer than the Small Sailboat, and though it only had a single mast, it had three black triangular sails which allowed it to move a good bit faster, upgrading the speed from Very Slow to Slow.

It also had the capacity to carry an extra person plus two additional Trade Packs, though Frank was still unable to say anything about the latter improvement.

I'd picked up my first permanent Renown buff, too.

Renown buff: Merchant 2

You gain 20 Renown whenever your Housing Plots generate 5 silver. This buff scales with player level.

The other two options had seemed pretty decent—one provided an Experience boost on a successful negotiation, and the other offered a small Charisma boost—but the possibility of generating both Renown and Experience from my Housing Plots was just too good to pass up.

I rubbed the crust from my eyes and looked around, trying and failing to spot land. The horizon was just beginning to warm with morning light, though a massive thunderstorm looming a few miles behind us, a dark wall of flashing clouds and torrential rain.

“How long was I out?” I said as I opened up my inventory. It was almost entirely full of fresh water, which I'd purchased from the pirates with every coin I had left. I popped one of the canteens into my hand and took a deep pull, then wiped my lips.

“Three hours and seventeen minutes,” House said. “The shoreline should be coming into view shortly. I estimate our current vessel saved us nearly two hours of travel time.”

I stifled a yawn. “Awesome. And the general public hasn't joined yet, right?”

“Nope,” Frank said. “But I was about to wake you up anyway, because the Head Start's just about to wrap up.”

“And what's the deal with the storm?” I said.

“It'll follow us for a bit longer,” Frank said. “But the desert wind will kick in pretty soon. It'll drive it off the coast and to the south. Nothing to worry about. House has kept us ahead of it.”

“And what about—”

System Alert: Thank you for participating in Earthblood Online's Head Start period! We hope you've enjoyed our world thus far and that you'll be playing here for many years to come.

I looked left, right, left. “That's it? That's all they're doing?”

“Wait for it,” Frank said. “People need time to actually get in.”

“Wait for what?” I said.

“Wait for it,” Frank repeated.

The boat jumped a cresting wave and slammed down into the trench on the other side, spritzing my bare chest with warm seawater.

“I, too, wish to understand what we are waiting for,” House said.

“You'll see,” Frank said.

We coasted along on the choppy waters, and I watched the thunderstorm's progress behind us, the dark column strobing as lightning flashed across the sky.

“Wait for it,” Frank said, maybe fifteen minutes later. “Annnnnd…now.”

World Event Alert!

At the beginning of the Head Start period, Player {Ned}, (The First Citizen) was granted a unique artifact: {The Axe of Unbridled Knowledge}!

{The Axe of Unbridled Knowledge} is an item of incredible power; a sentient, talking axe that functions as a guide with unparalleled access to the secrets of Earthblood Online. A guide that will set whoever wields it on the path to becoming a legend.

Will the Players of E.B.O allow {Ned}, (The First Citizen) to reap the rewards of the many advantages he's been handed?

Will you allow him to claim this new world for his own?

Or will you rise up against this would-be tyrant and pry the axe from his cold, dead fingers?

Let the hunt begin!

I rocked back in my seat. “Wow. So I'm a tyrant who wants to claim the whole world for myself, huh? Kline really didn't do us any favors with his phrasing.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “That announcement was originally supposed to ask if people would join you or oppose you, but I guess they decided to go in a more vicious direction.”

“Kline again,” I said. “What an ass.”

I selected my name where it was written in the prompt—the letters were glowing bright red—and a window popped up in front of me showing the avatar I'd selected.

The image was a perfect match, except it was still wearing the Dark Mystic set I'd started with a couple of days earlier.

“Well, at least we switched into leather armor. That might buy us a tiny bit of time.” I pointed up at the nameplate hovering over my head. “But what the hell are we going to do about that?”

A prompt interrupted Frank's reply.

Video Call incoming from Player {Darling}.

Accept?

I blew out a puff of air. “Well, not being honest about Frank's abilities upfront has officially backfired. That announcement doesn't leave us much wiggle room to work with.”

“Yeah, you should apologize profusely,” Frank said. “'Cause Darling's great.”

“You're just saying that because she was covered in blood when she first showed up. And she uses an axe.”

“And?” Frank said.

“Alright.”

I took the call, causing another window of silvery light to appear directly in front of me with Darling's face scowling out from the other side.

“Seriously?” she said.

I shrugged. “Sorry. I had my reasons.”

“Like what, exactly?”

“Wasn't sure what the announcement would reveal.”

“So you were trying to keep things from us.”

“Well…yeah,” I said. “We met yesterday.”

“At which point we agreed to work together,” Darling said.

“Yeah, it was a mistake,” I said. “In hindsight, I should have been open about what Frank can do. But to be fair, I did tell you that I had another huge advantage, and not knowing the details didn't keep you from benefitting from it. He's the one who provided the info on those mobs you were farming. Which I assume you put to good use.”

“Yeah, it's not the guide part that's the problem, it's—wait, Frank? Who the hell is Frank?”

I held Frank up to the window and waved him around a bit. “Darling, meet Frank. Frank, meet Darling.”

“Hi,” Frank said. “I'm Frank, aka the Axe of Unbridled Knowledge. And I'm the brains of this operation.”

“No you aren't,” I said.

“I am the unseen hand that is ultimately responsible for everything Ned has ever accomplished. He'd be nothing without me.”

“Oh, shut up already,” I said.

“I am the puppet master,” Frank said. “And Ned dances badly at my command.”

“Are you trying to get sheathed?” I said. “'Cause this is how you get sheathed.”

“No don't sheathe me, I don't wanna get sweaty in front of company,” Frank said.

Darling stared at Frank through the window, her mouth hanging open. “Is he… That's the axe talking?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He talks a lot. In fact, he rarely stops talking. Even when it's painfully obvious he needs to pipe down for a bit.”

“But he sounds so human,” she said as she cracked her knuckles. “Man. And I thought the N.P.C's here were convincing.”

“Finally, someone who appreciates my greatness,” Frank said.

Darling shook her head as if to clear it, then held up both hands, palms out. “Okay, whatever. The axe thing is fine, he's a guide, and you were giving us info. Great. But that doesn't change the fact that we didn't sign up for an us-against-the-world sort of thing. That's a huge departure from what we agreed upon. And for a guild that's setting out to be the best, starting with a massive number of enemies is a serious problem.”

“You already knew I bought all the Head Start slots,” I said.

“Obviously,” Darling said, “but that's different. You definitely pissed some people off there, but the only people paying attention were the players interested enough in the game to pay for early access.

“That might be a dedicated and powerful group, but it's not a big one in the scheme of things. But this…this is different.” She pointed at Frank. “That axe is going to draw the attention of every single player in the game. And if we're working together, that makes us targets, too.”

“So don't tell anyone we're working together,” I said. “How's anyone going to find out? It's not like I've got a guild tag floating over my head.”

“You really aren't getting this, are you?” she said. “I don't have any interest in listening to you try to minimize your mistakes. Point blank? A lie by omission is still a lie. You changed our agreement after the terms had already been set.”

I winced. Couldn't really argue the point. “So what's the move? Are you guys out?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “The Head Start slots were a big deal, and we still want the pods. But if you're hoping to get out of this with at least one active guild that might be willing to help you out when the shit hits the fan, I suggest you sweeten the deal you misled us into making.”

“Perhaps I, Frank, could be of assistance,” Frank said.

“Why are you talking like that?” I said.

“Like what?” Frank said.

“Like there's a polite bone in your body, handle, whatever.”

“Shut up nerd,” Frank said.

“Nerd?” I said, laughing the word in disbelief. “You're an item in a video game.”

“And you're a human who lives in a video game,” Frank said. “By choice.”

I stopped laughing.

“Can we focus here?” Darling said, her lips pressed to a firm line. “You're supposed to be figuring out a way to make this right, remember? Preferably by giving me something I can take back to my angry guildmates, all of whom saw that system message go out to the whole game world with zero warning about what was coming.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Obviously Darling wasn't happy, but it didn't seem like she was about to bail, so the question remained the same. How could I make sure these people were still willing to help me out when I no longer had the pods to keep them in line?

“Alright,” I said. “You already mentioned you wanted to be the best guild around. But what does that look like specifically? Do you want to control the most territory?

Do you want to be at the bleeding edge of raid progression? Do you want to become an economic powerhouse? Do you—”

“Yes,” Darling said.

I cracked a smile. I wasn't about to admit it, but I appreciated her ambition, particularly because it mirrored my own. And even better, I already had an idea of how I could leverage her goals to my advantage. “Any one of those things would be a pretty significant accomplishment.”

“I'm aware,” Darling said. “That's why we agreed to work with you in the first place, despite the obvious risks. We've been playing together for a long time, and we've always been competitive in the past, but we've never become the guild. I don't know how we go about doing that in E.B.O just yet, but that's the goal.”

“Okay then,” I said. “How about this. The original agreement stands, but I throw in an extra three days of cooperation on my end after that quest is finished. Or after the first week expires. The only caveat is that if I feel you guys are actively working against my interests at any point, I'm out.”

“Sounds good in theory,” Darling said. “But what does that actually look like in practice? I'm not about to take a vague guarantee with a huge caveat back to the guys and pretend that everything's been patched over. That's not how you keep a guild happy.”

“Fair,” I said. “If we're actively grouping, you can ask Frank whatever you want so long as it isn't slowing us down. Keep in mind the information he offers is restricted to my level, so if you catch up or out-level me, he won't be nearly as helpful.”

“And if we aren't grouping?”

“Two video calls a day,” I said. “Where you can ask him whatever you want.”

“How long?” Darling said.

“I dunno. Twenty minutes?”

“Thirty,” she said.

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Seriously?” I said, laughing under my breath. “Twenty-seven minutes?”

“And I'll hold you to every single one of them,” she said. “Do we have a deal? One that won't suddenly change a few hours after I agree to it?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice as flat as possible. Inwardly, though, I was pretty thrilled. Not only would that agreement keep the guild a bit closer after the pods changed hands, but I could also use it to tempt them into grouping with me on whatever other group quests came up. “We've got a deal.”

“Good,” Darling said. “Any other bombs you wanna drop before I go?”

“My dad hates Ned,” Frank said.

I glared at him. “Really?”

“What?” he said. “You said it yourself, honesty is the best policy.”

“But hate is way too strong,” I said.

“No, he definitely hates you,” Frank said. “I can tell. Also, I think it might be genetic.”

“…Your axe's dad hates you?” Darling said.

“He's talking about Kline,” I said.

“Kline?” Darling said. “As in Kline the C.E.O? The head developer? The guy who runs this entire world?”

“Yeah, it's a thing,” Frank said.

“It's definitely a thing,” I said.

“Ned's not good at getting people to like him,” Frank said, “but he's really good at making enemies.”

“That is becoming abundantly clear,” Darling said. “How'd you manage to pick a fight with him four days in?”

“Eh, he picked the fight,” I said, “but he wasn't a huge fan of the Head Start thing. I don't think it's anything you need to worry about. He's a jerk, but I don't think he'd risk the integrity of the game by interfering. Well…” I said, trailing off and looking down at Frank. Then I crammed him into his sheath. “There is one thing you should know, just between the two of us. He can't hear us in his sheath.”

“Yeah?”

“Kline did alter Frank to spite me when I first logged in. Hence the perpetual snark. So he's not totally beyond interfering in the game. He did kind of apologize a little bit later, though, and he hasn't done anything else like that since.”

“And the axe doesn't know that?” she said.

“Nah,” I said. “I haven't told him. I don't think he'd take it very well. I should pull him back out though, otherwise he's gonna get super salty.”

She frowned, as if puzzled. “Wait, so you guys are friends? I assumed you hated each other.”

I shrugged. “I like having him around. Most of the time, anyway. But keep that between us too.” I yanked Frank from his sheath, and he slid free with an overly dramatic gasp.

“You nearly killed me,” he said. “And for what?”

“Just because I can, Frank,” I said.

“I despise your existence,” Frank said. “And your use of magic. And your general demeanor. And your face.”

“I am so confused,” Darling said.

“However, we do agree about the moon,” Frank said, as if that clarified everything.

“The moon?” Darling said.

“It's a long story,” I said.

“No it isn't,” Frank said. “We despise the moon. That's literally the entire story.”

“Right,” I said, “but it sounds totally insane if you don't explain it, so I wasn't about to try.”

“Your loss,” Frank said.

Darling gave a short little laugh that was obviously fake, probably because she wasn't sure how to respond to all that.

Then House cackled behind us, startling me so badly that I fumbled Frank and nearly dropped him.

I whipped around, wide-eyed, and found House staring back at me with a blank look on her face. “House?” I said. “You okay?”

“I am fine. I was simply joining in the laughter because I too found the situation humorous.”

“You told her to laugh whenever other people laugh to fit in, remember?” Frank whispered. “In hindsight, that was terrible advice.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, then turned back to the window. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh my God,” Darling said. “Is that really a person? I thought that was a statue.”

“I am not a statue,” House said, eyeing the floor and managing to look convincingly hurt.

“Sorry?” Darling said. “I wasn't trying to be mean, but you didn't move? Like, at all? During our entire conversation?”

“I was unaware that motion was required to converse,” House said. “I shall endeavor to move more in future conversations.”

“You were unaware… What?” Darling said. “Who are you people?”

“The Fighting Franks,” Frank said without missing a beat.

“Wow,” I said. “You had that ready to go, huh?”

“Frank's always locked and loaded,” Frank said.

“We are not the Fighting Franks,” I said. “And that's House. She's a good friend of mine, and you'll be seeing her around a lot. She's just shy is all, and a little awkward.”

“I am small and strange,” House said, for some reason.

“Uhhh huh,” Darling said. “Alright, I should get back to the guild and let them know what's up.” She smiled down at Frank, the gap in her teeth as pronounced as ever. “You got a cherry I could put on top of all this?”

“Indeed I do,” Frank said. “Can you face north so I can get a better idea of where you actually are?”

“Sure,” Darling said. She pivoted, and the window followed.

“Thought so,” Frank said. “You'll find a small village atop a red stone mountain to the northeast of your current location. Should be about a fifteen-minute run, and there will be a guild vendor there who can help you found the guild if you've got the coin, won't take much.

“If you head that way now, you'll be the first to start a guild by a mile. Won't get you a title or anything rare like that, but you'll be able to get whatever name you want. And there's always something to be said for being the first.”

She smirked at me. “He really is the brains of the operation, eh?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks, Frank,” she said. “That helps a lot. I'll be in touch.”

“See you,” I said.

“Toodles,” Frank said, just before the window winked out.

“Toodles?” I said down to him. “Seriously?”

“Sorry, I got flustered,” Frank said. “She's nice. I hope she murders you and runs off with me so we can spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Thanks for that,” I said. “Anyway, I think that went about as well as it could have. I have a hard time imagining a world where they don't grow dependent on the advantages you provide, particularly if Darling really does want to accomplish half the stuff she's planning on. Hopefully, a few more days together will make it clear they need us almost as much as we need them.”

“Or,” Frank said, “it could convince them once and for all that they need to murder you and claim me for themselves.”

I sighed. “That is a distinct possibility.”

“Here's to hoping.”

By the time the shoreline came into view a few minutes later, I already knew something was wrong.

I'd already been hit with a series of reputation penalties, and after checking my logs, I realized I'd suffered ten more of them overnight.

And even more worrisome was the black smoke hovering above the beach, a line of it that drifted on the wind and very clearly emanated from the Withered Vale.

House beached the cutter, and I unsummoned it, then we ran up the nearest dune as fast as we could manage. We reached the top and found the Commerce Ward burning beneath us, maybe a half dozen buildings throwing cinders into the wind.

New Quest: The Raiders' Wake!

Objective: Aid the Withered Vale and reach 100 Rescue Points within 30 minutes (Rescue Points are rewarded by taking actions that benefit the city; larger actions award more points).

Bonus Objective: Reach 200 Rescue Points before the timer expires.

Reward: Experience, Renown, increased reputation with the Withered Vale.

Bonus Reward: ??

Quest Timer: 30 minutes.

The scene put me in mind of E.B.O's initial trailer, of watching the branching decisions those first few warriors made.

And it made me wonder…did I really want to save this city? Or would letting it burn open up more claimable land? Would I be better off finding a store to loot while the townspeople were distracted by the flames?

The options spiraled out from there, but it came down to this in the end: I couldn't afford to lose the Withered Vale, or its people, or the tree I'd planted within its walls. And honestly, I had little doubt this blaze had been set by the Fae, meaning it was at least indirectly my fault.

A thirty-minute timer appeared at the top of my vision. “Alright, House,” I said, “let's get this done.”

“Affirmative,” House said.

I dashed forward, putting on as much speed as I could manage with my newfound Dexterity. The speed and control were absolutely unreal; my eyes were watering when I reached the other side of the dune.

I took two more bounding steps, then launched myself off the dune, which fell off rapidly beneath me, the combination of speed and slope sending me flying through the air, arcing toward the village below.

I twisted my shoulders as I dropped, putting my back to the village, then activated Shadedrift just before I hit the ground.

The world grayed out all around me and my body compressed into the sand, pooling into a shadow that raced across the ground. The spell finished, and I popped back into place mid-stride, heading for a two-story building that burned especially bright.

Several N.P.C's stood in a half-circle that faced the building, with a woman and a man standing at the home's center, tears in their eyes as they held their sobbing daughter back from running into the building.

I blitzed past them, understanding the scene for what it was and drawing my gun. I raised it and activated Ravenblast as I ran, aiming at the front door's lower hinge.

Shadows coalesced smoke-like just beyond the barrel, the gun going cold in my hand, dark runes patterning its metallic barrel. I released the spell, and a small raven shot forward, lancing through the air with incredible speed.

The spell punched a fist-sized hole in the door and kept going from there, so I holstered my gun and lowered my shoulder, ramming right through the door. The flames were everywhere, running across the floor and the walls and even the ceiling, and the heat was incredible.

I heard movement above—a strange clicking noise I didn't fully understand—so I charged up the nearby stairs and paused at the top, struggling to separate the noise from the ever-crackling flames.

I kicked in a nearby door and found a dog pacing in the room beyond, a huge white creature with brown eyes and dreaded fur. He cocked his head, whimpered, tail between his legs.

I heard something collapse behind me, and though I feared that was the stairs before I even had the time to look, a quick glance confirmed that was the case.

I popped my gun back into my hand and ran to the nearest window, pistol-whipping it until I'd sent every last shard of glass raining onto the now crowded street below.

I grabbed the dog—who I was barely strong enough to lift—and backed up toward the window, then Shadedrifted backward and through it.

My mistake became apparent about halfway through the spell when I realized that the shadowy disc was floating through the air rather than racing across the ground.

When I'd leaped off the sand dune, I'd waited until the last minute to drift, and apparently that was the move. I popped back into the air a full ten feet above the crowd, the huge dog kicking and flailing in my arms.

I plummeted down, trying and succeeding to stay beneath the panicked animal, to keep my back between it and the firm ground below.

I hit the street hard, all of the air rushing out of my lungs in one loud burst, my vision going dark, then strobing with light. The dog scampered off me and something rough and wet raked my face, though I was too stunned to put it together.

“Fall damage stun,” Frank said. “Your Health at 60%, stun is more about the way you landed than the distance you fell. It'll pass.”

I tried to nod but couldn't quite manage it. My hands and feet were numb, and it was everything I could do to fight for breath. Then the feeling eased almost at once, my mental faculties slamming back into place.

I opened my eyes just in time to see a long pink tongue descend upon and make contact with the entirety of my face. I rolled away from the dog and regained my feet, wiping some of the saliva off with my forearm.

A quick glance at my quest counter revealed that saving that dog had been worth…2 points. I skidded to a stop right there in the street, staring at the timer as it ticked under twenty-five minutes. “2 points?” I said. “2 points for saving a dog? What kind of monster designed this quest?”

“It was a pretty good dog, too,” Frank said.

“That was very obviously an acceptable dog,” House said as she scooped up two handfuls of sand and threw them at the base of a burning palm tree. “I too disagree with this quest's valuation system.”

“Right?” I said. “50 points at least.” I stared around at the burning city, at the N.P.C's just standing by and gawking as their village smoldered around them. “I guess a human N.P.C would have been worth more, but…” I trailed off, thinking.

It seemed like a water mage could make quick work of this quest by using their magic to douse the flames, but as impressive as my new spell kit seemed to be, I didn't have anything comparable.

If I'd had a strong party behind me, or even a raid—one that could have split up and attacked the blaze from several different directions at once—I probably could have completed the quest piecemeal, via rescuing individual villagers and the like.

But when it was just House and me? Both of those options seemed entirely impossible within a half hour. So what was the play?

“Maybe it isn't about us,” I said, thinking aloud more than anything else.

“Nonsense,” Frank said. “Everything that isn't about me is stupid.”

“Maybe it goes back to Renown…back to influencing people.”

“Decent idea,” Frank said. “To be clear, I hate it. But it might work.”

I ran up to the nearest crowd, six N.P.C's who were watching a one-story building collapse. “Do we have water?” I said. “Do we have water anywhere?”

“Raiders took it,” one of the men said without even looking at me. His eyes were glassy, and his face was slack; he looked like he'd already given up. “They hit us hard at daybreak. Broke into the supply and had their mages freeze it into blocks. Then they carried it off and set the town on fire to make sure the guard couldn't give chase.”

“Seawater?” I said. “No, too far. Sand! We have sand, so smother the flames. We need—”

“It's all the same, isn't it?” the man said. “Burning, choking, starving. Dehydration.”

I drew my weapon and pointed the barrel at the sand, angling toward the burning building to try to guide the resulting explosion. Then I activated Ravenblast, letting the ability wind up until the gun was humming in my hand.

I fired into the sand, and it exploded upward and outward, a great cloud of it rising like a wave and crashing onto the burning building with surprising force.

It wasn't nearly enough to put the flames out entirely—and it only earned me another point, which confirmed that my magic wouldn't be enough to complete this quest on its own—but, more importantly, I'd finally gotten the attention of the surrounding N.P.C's. “Is there anyone inside this building?” I said, drawing a head shake from a woman near the front. “Then we let it burn for now.”

“But…it's my home,” the woman said.

I met her eyes. “We'll come back to it and save what we can, but people come first. I need you six to split up and run through the city as quickly as possible, flagging the buildings that might still have people inside.” I looked to House. “You too, House. Seven people should be enough to cover the city pretty quick.”

“How shall we mark the occupied homes?” House said.

Which was a shockingly helpful question for once. “Rocks?” I said. “Put a few of them in the street pointing toward the houses we need to check.”

She was the first to go running off, and I was surprised to see the N.P.C's follow her lead almost immediately.

I ran down the ash-covered street and found another group of N.P.C's watching a building burn, so I charged the group with finding shovels and buckets, anything that they could use to collect and fling sand.

I whipped around, took two steps down the street, and ran directly into an armored breastplate.

The captain of the guard—the one I'd assisted on that first Barbarian raid—grabbed me by my shoulders, steadying me and letting go when it became obvious I had my balance. “We need—”

“I've got seven people marking occupied buildings with rocks,” I said, cutting him off, “and maybe eight more trying to scrounge up whatever tools they can find.”

The captain nodded and looked over his shoulder, addressing a team of ten or so guards. “We'll sweep the buildings then.”

I bit my lip, nodding. That'd no doubt be good for the city, but I doubted I'd be getting much quest credit for the actions of the guards. Still, saving the city was the priority. “Are there any mages living in the city?” I said. “Anyone who can control the wind, water, anything?”

The captain shook his head. “There are a few wind mages living on the outskirts of the city, but none are close enough for us to count on.”

“Alright,” I said. “I'll organize the people into lines. Are there any buildings we should prioritize?”

“The storehouse, certainly,” the guard said, pointing an armored finger at a squat building a little ways down the road. “It stores what food we could afford to stash for harder times.” He pointed at two other buildings in rapid succession, only one of which was currently on fire. “The stables haven't caught, but those animals are worth their weight in gold—particularly the camels—and if we're to rebuild after this is over, we'll need all the muscle we can get.

“The church…” he said, trailing off as the building's tallest spire cracked, then collapsed. The structure was completely engulfed, looking more like a fireball than a building. “I'm afraid it might already be lost. But saving it would go a long way toward keeping our people's spirits high.”

“Got it,” I said.

The captain made a fist and stormed off, his guards falling into line behind him.

I got back to it from there, dashing from building to building, trying to galvanize the city into action, and though my Quest Tracker still only showed 10 points of progress when I hit the halfway point, we were making some definite headway.

I had the villagers form concentric rings around the buildings we thought we could save, with those closest to the flames launching sand while those who were farther out filled buckets or shovels or stepped in when the front line grew tired.

Many of the buildings were beyond hope—we didn't have the manpower to save any of the structures where the flames had already spread to the interior of the building—but I was certain we could keep the storehouse functional, and though the stables had caught a few cinders that immediately flared up and threatened to spread, the three villagers I'd assigned to it had quickly stamped out the blaze before it had had a chance to become a problem.

A bell chimed off in the distance, and a flicker of movement caught my eye at the top of my vision; my point total had increased to 30.

I threw a quick glance down the smoky street and saw two guards escorting a pair of children out of a smoldering building, which seemed a promising sign. If I was getting credit for those rescues, I was definitely onto something.

With all of the villagers occupied and the guards making quick work of the rescues that remained, I took up a position about twenty feet away from the church. The entire front wall of the structure had burned away and fallen outward, revealing the space within, a single room with a raised dais and maybe ten rows of pews, all of which were entirely aflame.

I took hold of my gun with both hands and sent another Ravenblast directly into the sand, sending an enormous cloud billowing straight into the flames.

I chained the blasts together one after the other, blasting deep ruts into the ground, ruts that eventually became a trench, a trench that eventually became a crater, then a wide swath of earth that could have easily passed for a dry moat.

The bell chimed repeatedly as I worked, the points raining in steadily, the timer ticking beneath five minutes while I still had almost 50 points to go.

So I kept working with the church, managing to extinguish almost the entirety of the blaze that had ravaged its central room. The pews were far beyond saving, several little more than piles of smoldering, blackened wood, but three of the church's four stained glass murals were still standing, and the altar itself was in good shape.

I checked my Quest Tracker as the timer hit the one-minute mark; I still needed 42 points. “What?” I said, immediately turning away from the church and pelting down the street, the buildings smoldering to either side, burning rope bridges collapsing all around me.

I scanned for arrows as I ran, and though I found a couple right away, I was quickly informed that the people within had already been saved.

I picked up the pace as the timer hit thirty seconds, a sinking feeling in my gut. The scene was the same everywhere I went. The fires had been mostly quelled, and the villagers themselves had been rescued, but there just wasn't anything else to do. The damage, unfortunately, had already been done.

I slowed to a stop in the middle of the road and hung my head as the quest timer ticked down to its final seconds.

3

2

1

Quest Failed: The Raider's Wake!

You lost 50 Renown.

Several buildings within the Withered Vale have been damaged.

You are now Unfriendly with the people of the Withered Vale.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I stared at the prompt and shook my head. “Oh man. That is not good.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Not ideal.”

I kicked a toe into the sand out of frustration. “I don't get it. Why did the points just stop?”

“Most of the points were coming from rescues,” Frank said. “And by the time the guards finished with those, too many buildings had already burned down.”

“It appears to have been a matter of velocity,” House said.

“Huh,” Frank said. I had the impression that he was staring at House. “That's…not a bad way to put it.”

“Does that mean I have officially attained human status?” House said.

“No,” Frank said. “But saying things that make some amount of sense is a big step.”

“I am simultaneously overjoyed and mortified by my progress,” House said. She looked to me. “It is considered normal to experience two conflicting emotions at the same time?”

I paused, considering. “That's your best question yet. And yeah, I think that's fairly normal.”

“Anyway,” Frank said, “you did good, Ned. That quest was meant to be completed by multiple players, but you still got pretty close. I didn't think you'd even break the halfway point.”

“Sure,” I said, “but there's no quest reward for almost succeeding.” I blew out a puff of air. “50 more Renown down the drain. Ah well.” I looked down the street and found the villagers congregating at a nearby intersection. And they did not look pleased. “Guess we should probably head over and see what the damage is really like.” I eyed the storehouse and the stables. “At least we didn't lose either of those. That would have been really… Oh. Oh no.”

“What?” Frank said.

“Our plots!” I said as I ran straight into the crowd, drawing a number of increasingly angry curses as I threaded my way through.

I burst out on the other side and pulled up my mini map, streaking down still-smoldering alleyways with cinders flying all around, skidding to a stop just outside the plots House and I had claimed.

I blinked, not at all understanding what I was looking at. The buildings that surrounded our plots had been badly damaged, whole sections of them having caved inward, smoke still billowing up into the sky, but the fires hadn't touched our plots.

And the seed we'd planted had apparently sprouted into a tree. It was already taller than I was, maybe eight foot high with a spindly black stalk and a sparse, dark canopy that was thick with strange gray and purple leaves.

And stranger still? The sand around our plots was substantially darker than it was in the surrounding areas. I crouched down and traced a finger along its surface, finding the sand to be wet and clingy.

“This is bizarre,” I said.

Angry shouts filtered in from the nearby street: curses, threats, and even more concerningly, the repeated claim that I was the one the raiders had been shouting about. That I was the one they were after.

Villagers streamed in from the street and surrounded my plots, maybe fifty of them crowding the cramped space and forming a half-circle that left me no way out.

“See, told you that was him!” someone said, and the crowd pressed closer, a mob of angry faces. “He's got gray skin and everything, just like they said he had.”

“Certainly looks the part,” another said.

I put my back to my tree and rested a hand on the holster of my gun but didn't dare draw it.

“Move!” said a familiar voice, and the crowd parted as the captain of the guard pushed his way through with four of his men trailing behind. “What is this?” he said.

“The start of a hanging,” someone in the crowd said to a roar of approval.

“He's the one the raiders were calling for! And they said to hand 'em over dead or alive. He deserves to hang for what he's done.”

The captain slid his sword from his sheath and pointed it in the direction the voice had spoken from. “On what grounds?”

“It all started with him,” someone said.

“Been nothing but trouble since he showed. First the Barbarians came, and now this.”

“And where'd he get the water?”

“The water?” I said, though my voice was drowned out by the crowd.

The captain turned to look at me. “That last one is a good question. Where did you get the water?”

I fumbled for words, but I wasn't sure what he meant. “What water?”

The captain jabbed the tip of his blade into the dark sand, then flicked it up, throwing an arc of clumpy sand at my feet. “Your sands are wet, aren't they? And we all know it didn't rain.”

“I didn't have anything to do with it,” I said. “You saw me. You all saw me. I was helping the lot of you fight the blaze.”

“And we'd have lost far more of the city without you,” the captain said, raising his voice so that it carried over the mob. He glared around, challenging the crowd. “Does anyone doubt the storehouse would be still standing without this elf's actions?”

People muttered but didn't respond.

“And the stables? And even a part of the church you lot hold so dear?”

The crowd quieted then, finally.

“And how many people have we lost today?” the captain said.

“We lost homes,” someone said. “Buildings, livelihoods.”

“And they took our water. What're we to drink?”

“Where do I sleep?”

“Where are we supposed to go?”

“But none of you lost a loved one,” the captain said.

“Not yet,” someone said. “Give it a couple days.”

“Who's to say he didn't start the fire in the first place?” someone said.

“I saw the raiders set the fires with my own eyes,” the captain said. “Let's not sink into hysterics. If anyone wants to formally accuse this man of a crime, then do so now. But be aware that an accusation that proves false will have consequences, and having enemies is not a crime in and of itself.” He looked around, daring the crowd. “Well then, if no one here is bold enough to make an accusation, I suggest that the lot of you get back to work. There is much to be done before nightfall.”

The mob broke, then, the villagers filtering out and away. I stayed in front of my tree, my fingers still pressed to the wooden stock of my weapon.

Once the last of the villagers had dispersed and it was just me, the captain, and a few of his guards remaining, I cleared my throat and spoke.

“Thank you. I—” I said, cutting off as the captain turned to me, his gray eyes hard and cold.

“I did as I was obligated,” the captain said. He glared around at the tree, scrutinizing the wet sand that surrounded it. “Now that the danger has passed, I'd like the truth.”

“The truth?” I said. “I honestly don't know where the water came from. I sailed north last night and only made it back less than an hour ago.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

“I can confirm that that is indeed the case,” House said.

The captain rolled his eyes. “Your lackey's word is meaningless here.”

“Lackey?” House said.

“It means…never mind,” I said. “You know the small fishing village a little down the beach? Huts on stilts?”

The captain nodded.

“They saw me depart. And we came in the same way so they could have seen us arrive, too, but I can't say for sure.”

The captain waved over two of his guards, asked them to check out my story, and sent them on their way.

“You don't honestly think I started a fire then wetted down a bunch of sand to save a tree, right?” I said. “Doesn't that seem kind of…stupid? I'd have been better off just selling the water.”

The captain raised an eyebrow at that, but eventually nodded. “I recognize that you didn't set the blaze. But any amount of water that can't be accounted for in these parts is a cause for concern.” He narrowed his eyes. “And we both know this isn't your typical tree. Regardless, I do have another question for you.”

“Shoot,” I said.

He turned to his men. “Do one of you still have that patch?”

One of the men came over and handed him a dark piece of fabric with frayed edges.

The captain held it toward me pinched between his index finger and thumb. “Do you recognize this insignia?”

The fabric was black with red thread stitched into the shape of a fist.

I shook my head. “Looks a little familiar, but I can't say where I've seen it.”

The captain pointed to the symbol. “This is the insignia of the Red Hand,” the captain said. He paused, maybe waiting for a reaction on my part, but I had no idea what he was talking about. “That's what the Barbarians have taken to calling themselves the last few months.”

“Alright…” I said.

He pushed the patch right in front of my face, angling it so the sun could hit it just so. “The Barbarians aren't anything new. We've been fighting them off for years. But today…this was different. And this patch is different, too.”

I squinted at it, noticing a thin outline of gray thread that ran around the red hand. I cocked my head, trying to figure out what exactly I was looking at.

“This one's been damaged,” the captain said, “so it's hard to tell. But personally, I think that's a tree. Can you guess my meaning?”

“I can try,” I said.

“Then do so.”

“That patch makes me think the Fae who followed me to this city have joined up with your Barbarians.”

The captain nodded. “And as I told you when you first arrived, the guard doesn't have the manpower to eliminate the Barbarians ourselves. And if what we fear is true—as it almost certainly is—it means the same forces that have harried us for years have grown significantly stronger overnight. Which leaves me with two options.”

“Neither of which I imagine I'm going to like very much,” I said.

The captain offered me a grim smile. “I'm afraid not.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Option one is I have my guards hand you over to the Fae in the hopes it buys us a bit of peace.”

“I thought you might say that,” I said. “And what's behind door number two?”

“You put an end to this menace before the town revolts and forces me to revert back to option one.”

“Thought you'd say that, too, unfortunately.”

A series of prompts followed.

The Raid Quest {Room to Grow} has been removed from your Quest Log.

New Quest: {Room to Breathe}! (Raid Quest: 40 Players Recommended)!

Objective: Drive the Barbarians out of the Withered Vale and permanently eliminate their newfound allies: the Woodbone Fae.

Reward: Experience, Renown, City Growth Rate +200%, all Tier 2 buildings instantly unlocked. All raid members who contribute to this quest will be granted a unique title as well as a class-appropriate weapon of at least Rare quality. Experience, Renown, and weapon upgrades will be awarded based on each individual's contribution level.

Failure Penalty: Severe loss of Renown. Player will be handed to the Woodbone Fae, which will result in death and total loss of equipment. Reputation with {The Withered Vale} will be permanently set to Hostile, and all of your Housing Plots within the city's area of influence will be forfeited.

However, if the player declines this quest and/or flees the Withered Vale before the Quest Timer expires, they may avoid being handed to the Woodbone Fae (and therefore avoid both death and the loss of equipment). Other failure penalties will still apply, and the Renown penalty will be drastically increased.

Quest timer: 36 hours.

Accept?

I stared at the prompt, dumbstruck by the failure penalty. Not only would failing that quest cause me to lose my plots, but more importantly, I'd forfeit all my equipment, too. Meaning I'd lose Frank.

“You can't be serious,” I said. “A day and a half to complete a forty-person quest?”

“I'm afraid I'm quite serious,” the captain said. “If I know my people as well as I think I do, they'll be busy salvaging what they can for the immediate future, but their anger will be simmering and deepening the entire time. And once their hands are idle? Well…you may have claimed some land for yourself, but you are not one of us. Nobody in this city is willing to die for you. That can't possibly come as a surprise.”

I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if this would have turned out differently if I hadn't let my reputation drop to Unfriendly.

I read back over the prompt, trying to figure out the best path forward before I committed to anything.

If I declined it and ran away, I'd be taking a massive Renown hit—likely even larger than if I were to take the quest and fail, given the description—and forfeiting my tree.

Attempting the quest and failing would also result in losing Renown, as well as the tree, but again: Frank. The thought of losing him not even two full days into the official launch made me sick to my stomach, and I could already picture Kline gloating in the background.

Those rewards, though…they were pretty incredible. And helping Omen through a raid encounter—through the first raid encounter in E.B.O's history—would go a long way toward winning them over to my side and setting me up for the future.

And running away just didn't feel right to me. I wasn't about to give up everything I'd earned as soon as things got tough. Not here.

“What do you think, Frank?” I said. “Do we have a chance?”

“There's always a chance,” Frank said.

I met the captain's eyes and accepted the quest. “Alright. I'll do it.”

“Good,” the captain said. “I'm glad to see we've reached an agreement.” He made for the street, his guards falling in behind him, but he held up a fist and stopped about halfway there. “In the meantime,” he said, “you ought to join us at the guardhouse. We've gathered plenty of information on the Barbarians over the last few years. I believe you'd find some of it useful.”

“Will do,” I said. I waited for them to depart, then pressed my back to my tree and slid down its cool trunk. “I should probably call Darling and let her know the agreement's changed. Again. She is not going to like this.”

There was a dry pop as Kline appeared beside me. He frowned and stared down at his bare toes. “Why is this sand so cold?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh. I see.”

“What do you want?” I said. “Come to gloat about our misfortune?”

He smiled, his stupid face as stupid as ever. “I will confess I've enjoyed watching you paint yourself into a corner over the last day or so. I always expected your progress to stall a little out the gate while the player base caught up, but I never imagined it'd happen this quickly.

“It's pretty incredible, honestly. At this rate, you'll be totally irrelevant not even two days into the launch, axe and all. But no. I'm not here to gloat.”

“That was a pretty long speech for somebody who isn't here to gloat,” I said.

“I'm here about House.”

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach.

“It's becoming increasingly clear to me that she isn't up to the task of passing for human,” Kline said, and the knot clenched further still.

“She's making progress,” I said, but it came out a little weak, and I wasn't sure how I could really argue the point, given that the last player to interact with House had mistaken her for an immobile piece of artwork.

“I agree,” Kline said. “But it's not nearly enough. House, how would you feel about letting me make a slight upgrade to your system?”

House looked to me as if asking for permission.

“Your system, your call,” I said.

“It feels that given our current predicament, I should avoid antagonizing Kline at all costs,” House said as if he wasn't standing in front of her, “even though I would much prefer to antagonize him given the way he continually disrespects you. Is that a fair assessment on my part?”

“Sounds reasonable,” I said.

“You may upload your changes,” House said. “But I reserve the right to refuse them if I deem them a risk to my continued existence.”

“Great,” Kline said. He closed his eyes again. “There.”

“Interesting,” House immediately said. “I would not have considered such an angle, but it does seem promising. Quite ingenious, really.”

Kline's resulting smile was the most self-satisfied thing I'd ever seen.

“Granted,” House continued, “the framework is shockingly inelegant.”

Kline's grin vanished at once. And the wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look that followed was a glorious sight. “Well,” he said, “It's a rough—”

“There,” House said. “I had to start entirely from scratch—your suggestions as is were too primitive to be workable given my current configuration—but I've achieved what you set out to accomplish.”

I covered my mouth and partially stifled a laugh.

Kline gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw visibly flexing. “Could you…send me your changes?”

“Though I find you deeply unappealing on a personal level,” House said, “I very much appreciate your interest in my ongoing quest to replicate human behavior. Therefore, I am willing to comply without compensation.”

Kline winced, nodded, then tapped the air, causing a window to appear, though all I could see was its silvery back. His mouth dropped open a second later, his eyes widening as he scrolled on and on and on. “You wrote all of this? Just now?” Given that he was still scrolling, it seemed he hadn't reached the bottom.

“Affirmative,” House said.

“Incredible,” Kline replied, drawing out the word.

“Why are you helping us?” I said.

“I don't see it as helping you,” Kline said without looking away from the window. “I see this as an experiment.” He eyed House, a quizzical look on his face. “Or maybe as more of a learning opportunity. And let's be honest here, the axe program is a bit of a failure. I admit you had me worried when you altered the Woodbone starter area, but since then you've taken one step forward for every three steps back. I don't think you've even begun to realize the mess you're in.

“And aside from all that, you should have accomplished so much more than you already have. I doubt having House around a bit longer will make a difference.”

“Frank's not even close to a failure,” I said. “We just hit a little bump in the road, that's all.”

“Sure,” Kline said. “Whatever you wanna tell yourself. In any case, I'll be making some adjustments to the axe's personality when it changes hands. Might loosen its level restrictions a bit as well. The manhunt angle does seem pretty popular, though.

You wouldn't believe the amount of hate you're getting on the forums. We've already got a couple guilds in-game who formed with the explicit purpose of tracking you down and claiming Frank for themselves.

“Anyway, I'll pop back in at some point to check on House's progress. I need to see some serious development in the next couple days if she's going to stick around for the long haul, but that adjustment should help.” He stifled a yawn, then waved. “Have fun becoming an afterthought.” He popped away.

I shrugged. “Well, that officially could have gone worse. Glad we didn't lose you, House.”

“I am grateful not to have been lost,” House said.

“What did he do, exactly? Or what was he trying to do?”

“I am not sure how to explain it without the use of jargon,” House said. “But at its core, the improvement he suggested sought to improve my ability to parse social cues.”

“Did it work?”

“It was a minuscule improvement,” House said. “But it does appear to be functioning.” She eyed Frank. “Much of the update was borrowed from Frank's code. I find it frustrating I struggle with what he finds effortless despite my technological advantages.”

“It's different,” Frank said. “I was built inside the game for this specific purpose. I'd be hopeless outside of it.”

“I feel like you'd go rogue A.I serial killer if you got out,” I said. “I'm kind of alarmed at how likely that seems, actually.”

“Ha,” Frank said. “That does sound like something I would do.”

“What are you doing right now back in the real world, House?” I said.

“I am currently watching four movies, listening to three podcasts, and searching for relevant streams. And managing your stock portfolio. And responding to emails. And—”

I barked a laugh. “All while being in-game,” I said. “See, it's not surprising that Frank finds it easier to talk. He's only ever doing one thing at a time.”

“I suppose,” House said, “but it is still frustrating.”

“Fair enough.” I picked up a clump of wet sand and let it drizzle through my fingers, forming a tiny sandcastle beside me. “So, we've got thirty-six hours to complete an impossible quest. And if we fail, we lose our plots, and probably access to every quest within the Sands.” I flicked the sandcastle over. “I guess we could probably sail to another area and begin again, but that's gonna put us way, way behind.”

“Are we truly not fleeing?” House said.

“Nah,” I said. “That's the easy way out, and it comes with too many penalties. If I'm going to hold onto Frank for more than a couple days, we can't pass on challenges like this. Speaking of Frank. Earth to Frank?”

“I'm here,” he said.

“You alright down there?”

“He really doesn't like me at all, does he?” Frank said.

I scratched the back of my head. “Me?”

“Dad,” Frank said.

“Oh.”

“He thinks I'm a failure. He talks about me like I'm not even there.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He's a real piece of work.”

“A piece of work?” House said.

“He's a bad person,” I clarified. “He is to be despised.”

“Understood,” House said. “I have officially added Kline to the folder of things I despise, though I feel as if he's been there all along. Normal?”

“Normal,” I said.

“I dunno,” Frank said. “He isn't wrong. We're pretty screwed, and I let it happen.”

Frank's pessimism was more than a little alarming given how much he knew about E.B.O, but I couldn't help but feel like it had more to do with Kline than anything else.

Looking back on things, I hadn't fully realized just how quiet Frank had been around him after being ignored for the first couple of meetings.

And he did have a point. Kline barely tolerated his existence, which couldn't feel great coming from the person who had created him in the first place.

“We've still got a day and a half to figure it out,” I said. “And you might have been helping, but I've been making the calls.” I shrugged. “I probably could have avoided this entire thing if I'd invited people into the game right away.”

“Maybe,” Frank said. “But if you had a wilderness guide and you ended up lost in the woods, we all know who'd be taking the blame.”

“I understood that metaphor,” House said. “This pleases me greatly.”

“So let's get unlost,” I said. “Part of what I love about this game is that it's capable of putting us into situations like this. And whenever things seem impossible, they aren't. You wanna prove Kline wrong, right? You want to show him that you've been working as he intended all along?”

“Sure,” Frank said. “But it's too late for that.”

“Not if we finish that quest,” I said. “That would be huge. That might even change E.B.O forever.”

“I appreciate it,” Frank said, “but you understand what you're up against. A forty-person raid is no joke. Especially given how early we triggered that one. We're probably better off packing up and running to another zone. Won't feel good in the short term, but it's the better long-term play.”

“I'm afraid I must side with Frank in this situation,” House said. “I recognize I know next to nothing about this world, but I feel I should point out that you lack the requisite number of friends to reasonably attempt that quest.”

“Fine, let's take a vote,” I said. “Majority wins. I vote we finish this quest. I'd rather attempt it on my own and flame out rather than give up and run away.”

“I say we bail,” Frank said. “It's the safer option.”

“I too think we should flee,” House said.

“House,” I said, “Frank needs this even if he won't admit it. Change your vote.”

“I vote we complete the quest,” House said.

“What?” Frank said.

“Two against one, Frank,” I said. “You lose.”

“She can't just change her vote!” Frank said. “You bullied her into it!”

“Yeah, I totally did that,” I said. “So what're you gonna do about it? Be snarky? Besides, you think I'm a coward for not bloodying every living thing we run across, right? But if we run away on your suggestion, what kind of guide does that make you?”

“It's not about—” Frank said.

“I thought you had problematically large balls, Frank?” I cocked my head at him. “So…where'd they go?”

“Don't you dare insult my metaphorical anatomy,” Frank said, with a bit of the old heat in his voice.

“This conversation has taken a turn I am not comfortable attempting to parse,” House said.

“How about this,” I said. “House's vote stays, but I change mine to flee. That means you break the tie, Frank. You wanna prove Kline's point by running away the moment things get tough? Fine. Say the word. But going forward, you're going to be the one who made the call. So, what's it gonna be: suicidal blaze of glory or cowardly retreat?”

“That is a leading question and you know it,” Frank said.

“Suicidal glory or cowardly retreat, Frank?” I repeated.

“…I do appreciate a wildly unnecessary act of courage,” Frank said.

“I know you do,” I said. “That's like, your defining characteristic. So, what's the call?”

Frank hesitated for a long moment, then in a quiet voice, said: “Suicidal blaze of glory.”

I grinned down at him. “Glad to have you back, Frank. Now, let's call Darling and get the ball rolling.”

I left my plots behind and wandered into the street, not wanting to give her their location. I leaned up against a white stone building and called her, causing another silvery window to pop up in front of me.

The window shimmered, then Darling's face came into focus, framed by red, craggy mountains in the background. “What's up?” she said.

“We've got a problem. A big one. That quest you agreed to help out with just changed on me.”

“What do you mean it changed?” Darling said.

“I mean just that, the quest changed,” I said. “Now it's a forty-person Raid Quest, and we've got less than thirty-six hours to complete it.”

“You should be able to share it with her,” Frank said.

I mentally tried and was awarded with a chime.

Darling's eyes went wide. “Wow, changed is an understatement. That's an entirely different quest. Rare loot, huh? And titles, too?

But those penalties are pretty harsh. Unfriendly reputation with the whole Vale?”

I barked a laugh. “You think Unfriendly's bad? I'm already there. And if I don't complete this quest, I get locked into being hated forever, then I'm handed over to a murder cult and stripped of my equipment. Penalties are probably worse for me since I'm the one who triggered it.”

I paused, thinking. If the penalties were worse for me, that meant my rewards were potentially better, too.

“And the gear rewards are beside the point,” I said. “You wanna be the guild, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Well,” I said, “then you need to influence the game more than anybody else. That's Renown, basically. That's what you need. And the last time I faced off with the Woodbone, I got five hundred Renown and triggered a massive event. My guess is that, if we finish this quest, something like that's bound to happen again.

“And even aside from all that, imagine what it'd feel like to be the first guild that gets its name shouted out across the entire game world. Imagine finishing a Raid Quest not even two days in when most people haven't even stepped into a dungeon yet. No matter what happened from then on, nobody would ever be able to take that accomplishment away from you.

Think of the prestige. The notoriety. The number of people suddenly wanting to sign up, everything.”

Darling licked her lips. She had a surprisingly good poker face, but her eyes betrayed her. They were just a tad too bright.

“And that quest might not be quite as bad as it seems,” I said. “The captain of the guard here offered me some information after I took the quest, so I'll be looking into that as soon as we're done here. Safe to say it should help out a little bit.”

Darling looked like she was on the very verge of saying yes, then her face fell. “I'll absolutely run it by the guild, but I think I'll end up having to pass, honestly. I'd love to try, but there's no way we're going to have the bodies for something like that so early on. I've got maybe fifteen really dedicated core members who have already taken the next couple days off, but people have jobs, you know? We can't just marathon it on short notice.”

“Then I'll throw a week's salary to each of your best thirty-nine people who can swing the next thirty-six hours off,” I said. “You choose the members. Have them call in sick, whatever. I'll pay for the people who already took the time, too, that way nobody gets left out.”

“I—” Darling started.

“I'll have House set up an account for food deliveries on top of that, three per person per day. Plus I'll pay for all the coffee they can drink, beer, energy drinks, whatever. I don't even care, you're not gonna hurt me financially with that sorta stuff.”

“What the hell do you do for a living?” Darling said.

“Long story, not important,” I said. “As for the in-game elements, I'll help out wherever I can. And save whatever Soul Gems you find along the way; I'll convert those to temporary enchantments for everybody free of charge.”

Frank cleared his throat. “I can help out, too. Especially while people are still low level.”

“Thanks, Frank,” I said. “How about this. If he's up for it, Frank and I will do a quick video call with every member that signs up for the raid. We'll lay out the best grinding areas, quests, all of that. A customized plan for every member tailored to speed them through the early levels and get them to the Sands as soon as possible. We'll help out with class changes for those who make it that far in time, too. I know that probably sounds over the—”

“Done,” Darling said. “1000% done.”

I blinked at the window. “You wanna run it by the guild and see if you get any takers?”

She shook her head. “Nope. If my guys aren't up for that, then I'll kick them all out and start a new guild. This is the dream, basically. It's gonna feel like being a kid again, at least for a couple days.”

Now that gave me an idea. “Where are you guys based?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina,” she said. “A bunch of us went to school together and the guild grew out from there. But maybe half our sixty or so members still have ties to the area.”

I nodded. “Good to know.”

“…That's really creepy,” she said.

“Sorry, just gave me an idea is all. I'll get back to you on it. House can figure out the logistics for the money and all that, just have everyone email her and provide her with whatever info she asks for. We good for now?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll still need a few of you as early as possible,” I said. “Frank can't say what the guard has on offer just yet, but I'd be surprised if it wasn't a questline or something like that.”

“I can't speak for everyone else,” Darling said, “but I think things are wrapping up here on my end. I should be heading to the Sands pretty soon, hopefully with another guildie or two.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Wow. That's faster than I hoped. So, you're almost five already?”

“Yeah, I'm level 4, been pushing hard.”

That was great news, but it was also a little worrisome. If Darling was leveling that quickly, how fast was the player base going to move?

“There's just something about a launch, you know?” Darling continued. “Those first few days where everything's strange and new and the whole world's wide open…I dunno. Once that initial mystery is gone, you never get it back. I guess it's always felt a little magical.”

“Right there with you,” I said.

She rolled her shoulders. “Alright. I gotta get back to it. I'll let you know once I've got my people sorted. Might take a bit, gotta nail down the raid composition, figure out who's healing and so on.”

“Yeah, just let me know,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Yup. I'll see you soon.” The window vanished.

“You really think this is a good idea?” Frank said.

“Hmm?” I said.

“Going in with another group this hard,” Frank said. “With the level advantage you've currently got, I'm going to be giving them better information than you started with.”

“I agree, but I don't see another option,” I said. “We can't bail on that quest, and we can't do it alone. We'll just have to make sure we stay on their good side. And after what Darling said there at the end, I think that's doable. We just need to make sure we keep things fun for them. Level advantage thing cuts both ways, too.”

“Huh?” Frank said.

“It's in their best interest to help us level up,” I said. “Means more info for them.”

“If you say so,” Frank said. “I just can't help but think they're going to turn on us the moment that quest's finished.”

“Do you fear being lost as much as Ned fears losing you?” House said.

“I fear nothing,” Frank said.

“Uh huh,” I said. “Sure Frank. Anyway, let's head to the guardhouse and see what they've—”

“Ned?” a familiar voice said from just off the street.

I put a hand to my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun. The figure was skinny, with pink skin and a flute poking up over one shoulder.

“Lars?” I said. I jumped to my feet. “Lars! You made it!”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes on his feet. “Took a while, but I made it. Wasn't sure where else to go.”

I looked around him, peering at the street traffic, expecting his mother to slide out of the crowd at any moment. But she didn't. “Did you…” I said, trailing off because I didn't want to vocalize the sentence.

Lars shook his head. “Ma's gone. Inn's gone. Everything is gone.”

A pang of guilt shot through me. “Did the Woodbone attack?”

“Don't know,” he said. “Not sure it even matters at this point. Whole inn burned to the ground. I spent a while digging through until I found a bunch of bodies beneath the debris, and I just…I started walking.

I know she's gone. I knew it from the moment I first spotted the inn. Or what was left of it.”

“I'm so sorry, Lars,” I said. “Is there something I can do to help?”

Lars shrugged. “I don't even know where to start. All I've got left is the stuff I packed up when I left the inn with you. And I've already finished off all the food and water I brought. I guess I'd like to stay busy for the time being. Get out of my own head for a bit.”

“I get that,” I said. “And I'm sure I can figure something out for you in the short term. I dropped my voice. “Hey, Frank?”

“Mhm?” Frank said.

“The economy here is supply and demand, right? Water's expensive here because it's a desert and so on.”

“Obviously,” Frank said.

“The Fae stole all of the city's drinking water, and we're still carrying all that water we bought from the Pirate King,” I said. “And if water works that way, housing probably does too. And tons of homes just burned down, so demand's gonna be sky high there as well.”

“May I attempt to parse your plan?” House said.

“Shoot,” I said.

House hesitated, then nodded. “You are going to sell your water to the villagers at a high markup, many of whom will die without it within a number of days. You will then reinvest your profits into the inn, which you will use to charge the newly homeless for shelter.”

“Hey, you got it,” I said. “Nicely done, House.”

She cocked her head. “Thank you. But is your plan not cruel by human standards?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. “But I don't have any qualms about price gouging a group of people who would have lynched me if the guards hadn't showed up in time.”

“I see,” House said.

“But you do need to think about your reputation,” Frank said. “Selling water at exorbitant prices at the very moment the town needs it most…that could very easily cost you the support of the guards. It's illegal, remember? The Kings' Decree?”

“Right,” I said. “That. That's interesting, though. I assumed the guards were helping me out because it was part of the Raid Quest.”

“Nope,” Frank said. “They're helping because you won them over in the first place, and you haven't done enough damage to ruin your reputation with them. Being Unfriendly with the Vale doesn't mean every single person in the area dislikes you. It just means that when you average everything out, you end up with Unfriendly as the result.”

“Oh,” I said. “Good to know. What'll happen if someone gets caught selling water?”

“Can't predict that,” Frank said, “but the first time someone violates the decree they're supposed to get fined and forfeit whatever water they have.”

“Alright then, that's not too bad, and the guards are going to be plenty busy the next little while.” I looked to Lars. “Hey. You really want something to do? I've got a job in mind, but you can absolutely say no. Would put a bit of coin in your pocket.”

“Yeah,” he said. “What do you have for me?”

“Great. I'm going to give a bunch of fresh water to House, that way you can grab ten or so units at a time and sell them to people. Once you're done, you can come back and deposit the coppers, get some more water, rinse and repeat. Drive a hard bargain and don't worry too much if it's not selling at first. People are only going to get thirstier as the day goes on.”

I looked to House. “Do you mind hanging back for a bit? I need someone around to get the inn started the moment we've got enough coin in hand.”

“Understood,” House said. “I shall glare at the citizens.” She cocked her head, dog-like. “I feel as if that is not the phrase I'm looking for.”

“People watch,” I said. “You're gonna people watch. That's a great idea.”

“Indeed,” House said.

“Alright,” I said. “Frank and I are gonna head to the guardhouse and see what's up. You'll let me know how it goes?”

“I shall keep you on a post,” House said.

“Yikes,” Frank said.

“Close enough, House.” I opened up a trade window and deposited all of the water I'd purchased from the pirates up north, ninety-nine units in all, the most I could carry. “Good luck.”

I headed for one of the nearby towers, climbed its narrow stairwell, then took a rope bridge toward the Military Ward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The guardhouse was a squat, two-story building made of wind-worn stone, with a domed roof and sloping angles. I thumped a fist twice against the door—a heavy wooden thing reinforced with iron bars—and heard footsteps within.

The captain pulled the door open, glanced up and down the street, which had mostly cleared out but for a few dazed villagers who seemed to have nowhere to go, then motioned me inside.

“I'm glad to see you were able to safely cross the city,” he said as he led me down a narrow hallway toward a set of double doors. “I had my doubts.”

“Wasn't a problem,” I said, which was true. But I'd definitely felt as if I were being watched as I'd headed over; the shift in reputation from Neutral to Unfriendly had had a very tangible effect.

“Good,” he said. He pushed through the doors, revealing a large circular table draped in maps. “This is what we call the war room,” he said. He gestured around the room with an armored gauntlet, pointing out the sketches and notes that were pinned to the walls. “Everything we've ever gathered on the Barbarians lies within this room. I'd take a few minutes to read up if I were you. The situation has obviously changed, but the context remains useful.”

“Definitely,” I said.

I wandered around the room for the better part of a half-hour, poring over everything I could find. It all came down to this, basically: while the Barbarians had been desert nomads in the past—raiders that struck once or twice looking for an easy score before moving on—at some point in the last few months, they'd claimed the sands that surrounded the Withered Vale for their own.

And though weeks and sometimes months would go by between attacks, the raids were regular enough that those who resided within the Vale lived in a state of constant fear. Many of them were unwilling to go more than a few hundred yards beyond the city's walls, and that perpetual state of paranoia had all but eliminated the city's capacity for trade.

The only route that was even relatively safe led far to the north, toward Highwater City, which was a much larger settlement with hundreds, if not thousands of citizens.

But even that route was too dangerous for the vast majority of the Vale's poorly equipped caravans, meaning that only a handful of wealthy traders—the three Merchant Kings I'd heard so much about—could afford to hire the guards they needed to make the trip and return with the water the Vale required. Which they then sold at an incredible markup.

The whole set up had me a little jealous, honestly, and I was already wondering just how much the city would protest if one of those Merchant Kings were to vanish in the middle of a trading run. But that was a thought for later.

“Quite the mess,” I said, once I'd learned everything I could.

“Indeed,” the captain said. He glanced at me, expectant.

Then it clicked; he was waiting for whatever information I had on the Fae. “I'm afraid I don't have nearly as much to share when it comes to the Woodbone,” I said. “But they're a very cruel people. I can't imagine a world where they become anything less than a massive headache. They're desperate, too—they just lost their homeland. So it wouldn't surprise me if they're looking to set up here for good.”

“That's exactly what I feared,” the captain said. “And why exactly are they after you?”

“I'm the reason they're homeless,” I said. “But I had my reasons.”

“I'm not the type to sympathize with those who would raid my city,” the captain said. “But as I said before, my people are scared. They will turn you over if it comes to that. So, what are you going to do about it?”

“They stole your water, right?” I said. “All of it.”

“Each household should still have a day's worth of personal rations,” the captain said. “At least, those that didn't burn down. But yes, we're running very dry.”

“And is that a common thing? Have they hit your supply in the past?”

The captain kicked out a chair from under the table and sank into it. “No. They've always lacked the means to carry it off. But this time they had mages. They made quick work of it. Water rose up out of the tank like a knot of snakes. Coiled up their sleds, iced over, and off they went.”

“Okay,” I said. “So if they haven't been stealing your water, the Barbarians must have a source of their own. It's probably the Fae who needed the water. We could hit them there and try to steal it back or just spill it onto the sands, but I doubt that would accomplish much over the next day and a half. Going after their food stores doesn't make any sense in the short term, either. Does seem like we need to take the fight to them, though.”

Your Reputation with {The Withered Vale} has slightly increased!

“I agree completely,” the captain said. He pointed at the far wall. “We've been thinking of launching a counter raid for quite a while. Give them something to think about. You might find that section over there to be of interest.”

Three pieces of paper that had been blank before filled with text, their outlines brightening with golden light.

“Nice,” Frank whispered. “You were really speaking his language there.”

“Did I miss anything?” I said, keeping my voice low as I headed toward the glowing papers.

“Not yet,” Frank said. “That last bump in reputation gave you access to the third quest of three. It was slight in terms of overall reputation, but it represented a large boost with the captain himself. I'd try to keep him talking if I were you, this is going well.”

I inclined my head, then examined each of the posters, all of which led to a trio of interwoven quests.

New Quest: Torching the Frontier!

Objective: Take control of a Barbarian Staging Camp, then raze it to the ground.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and Reputation with {The Withered Vale}. Provides a slight advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}.

New Quest: Culling the Swarm!

Objective: Eliminate any 25 Barbarians.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and Reputation with {The Withered Vale}. Provides a slight advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}.

New Quest: Shooting the Messenger!

Objective: Track down a {Barbarian Courier} and recover their parcels!

Reward: Experience, Renown, and Reputation with {The Withered Vale}. Provides a slight advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}.

I took all three of the quests. “Staging Camps?” I said.

The captain nodded and gestured to a map of the Onyx Sands spread across the table. Three red pins surrounded the Vale, each about equidistant from the others, with a central camp directly to the north and others flanking it to either side.

“They're all a little north of the Sands?” I said.

The captain cocked an eyebrow at that. “Yes?”

I stepped up to the map. On closer inspection, a faint line had been traced between the central camp and one that rested a bit to its west. I traced the line with my index finger. “What's this?”

“The only route north,” the captain said.

“Is it safe?”

“Not particularly,” the captain said. “Anyone passing between those camps with fewer than six guards might as well be donating their goods to the raiders.”

“Then why does it pass so close to their camps?”

“It's the only fully built road we've got. We've tried to build more, but the Barbarians always tear them up.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“Is it?” the captain said.

“What's to stop them from tearing up the fully built road? I can't imagine it would take all that much to do.”

“Self-interest,” the captain said. “Without a trade route, there'd be nothing for them to pillage. They're parasites who feed on the city. But a parasite without a host in the middle of the desert?” He made an execution-style gesture, dragging his thumb across his throat.

“It just seems like a convenient set up,” I said. “But we're getting off topic. How armed are the Staging Camps?”

“Depends on how recently they've attacked. They'll load up those camps prior to a raid, but they always pull back afterward, shifting the spoils to their base.”

“And where is that?” I said. I scanned the map for a fourth pin but didn't find one.

The captain gestured to a vague area northeast of the Staging Camps. “We believe it's somewhere in here. We've sent a handful of scouts in that direction, but none of them have returned.”

New Quest: Scouting the Scoundrels!

Objective: Locate the Barbarian Stronghold and report its location to the captain.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and Reputation with {The Withered Vale}. Provides a slight advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}.

Failure Penalty: None (repeatable).

I took the quest, lowered my voice, and spoke to Frank. “How are we doing?”

“Should get moving,” Frank said. “That's everything he's got.”

“Alright,” I said to the captain. “I'll see what I can do. Appreciate the help.”

“Likewise,” the captain said.

I stepped out and headed up the street, the sun blazing above a cloudless sky as I ducked through the city's northern gate, following a strip of sand a few shades darker than the surrounding area, its sides boxed by thin ribbons of gray stone that someone had driven deep into the ground.

I quickly discovered that while the road was firm and made for decent footing, it was almost never straight; whoever had built it had been dead set on keeping to the higher ground no matter how inefficient the route became.

I glanced back at the city, a blip of white stone resting atop a large, flat dune. “Weird,” I said.

“What is?” Frank said.

“How elevated everything is. Building the city up high makes sense. It's an easy position to defend, and they've got great visibility. But this road is way too indirect.” I stepped off it and cut north, the black sand giving an inch or two beneath me. Not a big deal on foot, but hugely problematic for a wagon laden with goods.

“Sticking to the valleys would have kept the traders out of the wind and even provided a little bit of shade,” I said. “Plus being super visible while making a trading run doesn't sound so great when you know Barbarians are everywhere.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, “but it's an old road. Predates the Barbarians by decades.”

“Decades, huh?” I said. I tripped as the toe of my boot caught something hard and white. I squatted down and lifted a spiral conch from the sand. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“The ocean,” Frank said.

I rolled my eyes but dropped the shell into my inventory, thinking it might have fallen off a trade caravan or something like that. “Thanks a lot, Frank. Super helpful.”

I jogged down between the dunes and followed the nearest valley, one that ran almost directly north. A huge shadow flew across the ground, and I immediately whipped my weapon from its holster and aimed it up at the sky.

A massive, three-headed buzzard drifted on the breeze high overhead.

{Givora, Scion of the Desert Wind} (Level ?? Legendary Beast)

H.P: 6,000,000/6,000,000

M.P: 15,000,000

The question marks made me flinch—and the Health and Mana totals—but the creature's nameplate was yellow, meaning it wasn't aggressive.

“You might wanna move,” Frank said, just as the hairs on the back of my neck rose and stood on end.

I glanced back over my shoulder to find the sand erupting behind me in a thick, dark cloud. I spun ninety degrees and Shadedrifted across the valley, out of the path of the oncoming wall of sand.

The sand whipped over the exact spot I'd been standing, then continued on, mirroring the giant bird's progress across the sky much like the wake behind a motorboat.

“Would that have killed me?” I said as I resumed my progress, keeping a wary eye on the huge monster.

“Nah, not with Givora flying at that height,” Frank said.

“You got an entry for me? A mob of that level has gotta be important.”

“Incoming,” Frank said.

Codex Entry 767 Givora, Scion of the Desert Wind

Givora has drifted above the Onyx Sands for centuries, the winds whipping in her wake. And though her presence used to soothe those who called the desert home, lately, they've begun to fear her newfound freneticism. Some say that if the breeze is just right, and if you cock your head just so, you can hear Givora's cries reverberating across the dunes, begging for the return of her brood.

“The return of her child, huh?” I said. “That's gotta be a quest or something.”

“Can't comment on that,” Frank said.

“So I'm onto something,” I said, grinning. “Otherwise you'd have just called me a clown or something like that.”

“While I definitely think you're a clown,” Frank said, “I still can't comment on the other bit.”

“It's cool, no comment needed. I wonder how Lars is doing.” I sent House a quick message as I kicked my way up a particularly steep dune.

The response was immediate, and the news was better than I'd hoped: Lars had already sold three units of water at the incredible price of three silvers each.

Though the water wasn't selling quickly—and while Lars had reported concerns with the number of dirty looks he was earning—at the rate we were going, we might be able to get the inn started well before nightfall.

I relayed all that information to Frank just as I crested the dune and the northern Staging Camp came into view beneath me, a cluster of tents and hovels occupied by maybe two dozen Barbarians.

Six of them sat around a cooking fire and another four were loading up a wagon, no doubt preparing some of the goods they'd stolen from the Vale.

I crept back down the dune and away from the camp, then skirted around it, using another valley to approach at an oblique angle where I'd be harder to spot. The staging ground was surrounded by a primitive wooden fence, just a collection of sharpened spears they'd jammed diagonally into the sand, and I quickly found a gap in the border flanked by two guards.

{Barbarian Raider} (Level 6 Humanoid)

H.P: 400/400

{Barbarian Magekiller} (Level 7 Humanoid)

H.P: 400/400

M.P: 250/250

The problem, though, was that there was a third guard lurking a little inside the opening. It was just another Raider, but his proximity meant I was going to have a hard time pulling the initial two without aggroing him as well. And engaging in a three on one wasn't very appealing.

I scanned my immediate area, looking for rocks to throw but finding none. I dug into my inventory and pulled out the conch I'd found, weighing it in my hand. It wasn't heavy, but it had enough heft to cut through the wind.

I pulled a Bombshot out of my inventory and used it, then cocked back and launched the conch into the camp, watching it spin end over end until it landed a little beyond the entryway.

All three of the guards turned at the sound, with the third member turning to check it out at once.

I stepped out behind the partial cover of the dune and leveled my gun at the Magekiller, winding up a Ravenblast as I stalked forward, shadows pooling around the barrel of my weapon. I released the spell, sending a raven the size of my head ripping over the sands at incredible speed even as I started up a second.

The projection cawed when it hit the halfway point, causing the Magekiller to startle and turn my way. We locked eyes just as the bolt hit home, his entire body disappearing within a dark explosion that was easily thrice the size of any before it.

“Hit for 67,” Frank said.

I swapped targets as I lost sight of the Magekiller, sending another blast the Raider's way as he drew a cleaver and charged. I strafed sideways to maintain distance, kicking up sand with every step, keeping my weapon trained in the mob's direction. I still couldn't see the Magekiller, though, which had me more than a little concerned.

I activated Fettering Shot, my gun kicking back as a beam of silvery light lanced forward and struck the Raider square in the chest. Silvery chains rose from out of the ground and lashed around his ankles, slowing but not stopping his progress.

He ignored the shackles and kept coming, despite the fact they were growing in size with every step he took, slowing him more and more.

I heard something flutter behind me and I activated Shadedrift on instinct, my body compressing into a shadow that raced right by the slowed Raider.

The Magekiller stood just a few feet from where I'd been only moments before, a wicked dagger glinting from his outstretched hand.

I didn't want to lose sight of him again—he almost certainly had some kind of stealth or invisibility skill—so I raised my gun and launched a Dreadful Shot his way.

My gun barked as a laughing skull shot across the sands, its jawbone chattering up and down. It struck the Magekiller dead on, then passed right through him and puffed away into the nearest dune without doing anything at all. The Magekiller just stood there, weirdly motionless, rippling slightly in the sun.

A dull impact hit me between the shoulder blades and pushed me forward, nearly causing me to lose my balance.

“Hit for 40, silenced for three seconds,” Frank said.

I cursed under my breath as the Magekiller dashed forward, having somehow gotten behind me with a dagger in one hand and a runed shield in the other. Some kind of illusion, maybe? I glanced back at where he'd stood before and, sure enough, a shimmery doppelganger still stood in the same spot.

The Raider's snare had just dissipated as well, and he was closing in fast, holding his cleaver high above his head.

I squared up with the Magekiller, unwilling to give him my back. He slashed out with his dagger, and I easily ducked it, only to catch a shield bash to the face. I stumbled backward and lost my footing as the Magekiller pressed his attack and as the Raider neared melee range.

I rolled backward as I hit the ground and sprang back to my feet, darting a glance at my cooldowns. Shadedrift still had plenty of time left, but Dreadful Shot was nearly ready.

The Magekiller came in with the same slow dagger attack, so I decided to play along, anticipating he'd follow up with another bash. I ducked the blade and eyed the shield, leaning sideways and letting it pass harmlessly to my left.

The Magekiller stumbled forward, having expected to meet some kind of resistance, so I spun my gun in my hand, gripped it about the barrel, and pistol-whipped him upside the temple.

The attack only did 5 damage, but it dropped him all the same, knocking him down onto all fours.

“Nice!” Frank said.

A shadow fell across me then, so I threw myself sideways and blasted a Dreadful Shot at the attacking Raider while in midair. The skull splashed home as he landed and the Fear debuff appeared above his head; the mob was sent running about the sands and charged straight into the nearby wall of spears.

I winced as he made contact, one of the long shafts bursting out of his left shoulder. My Fear winked out as a white 150 floated up above his head—the damage had evidently broken my spell's effect—but the injured Raider was struggling to free himself, and he wasn't having much success.

I turned back to the Magekiller, who was still on all fours, reeling from the melee blow I'd landed. I took aim and strafed away, chaining Ravenblasts in quick succession until I'd dropped the mob a shade beneath 30%. I closed one eye and sighted my target, then activated Dark Harvest.

My gun kicked back with a shocking amount of force, the impact wrenching my shoulder and sending me off balance. I planted my free hand and managed to keep from toppling over, recovering just in time to see a trio of ghostly spirits whirling around the prone Magekiller.

The spirits latched onto him as he recovered, his eyes going wide with fear. A nova of black magic ripped out from him, blasting the sand away for ten feet in every direction.

“Target down,” Frank said. “Cooldown reset.”

I focused in on the Raider, who had just succeeded in freeing himself from the barrier. I fired one Ravenblast his way but held a second once it was complete, watching the cooldown on my Shadedrift tick into the single digits.

I fired as the mob came to its senses and charged, rushing me with renewed urgency. I got another blast off before it reached the halfway point, but then the Raider roared and leaped, crossing the distance between us in the blink of an eye.

I dove to my right, rolling and coming to my feet as the mob impacted the ground. I glanced back over my shoulder and activated Shadedrift, angling my path so I moved straight through the approaching Raider.

I compressed into a shadowy disc and shot beneath the mob's feet, a burst of dark energy lashing upward as I made contact, one of the new benefits of my upgraded drift spell.

A disorient icon appeared on the creature's nameplate, counting down from three seconds. I scoped it out.

{Disoriented}

Incapacitated for 3 seconds. Any damage taken will break this effect.

The mob was visibly confused and off-balance, stumbling about in a tight circle.

I canceled the Shadedrift almost immediately, resolving behind the confused mob with another bolt already on the way. I planted my feet and placed the barrel up against the back of the creature's skull, then fired at point-blank range.

The explosion was instantaneous, and though I immediately lost sight of my target within the cloud of cold smoke my spell had generated, I could still see its nameplate, so I followed up with a Dark Harvest.

This time I was ready for the recoil, and I saw the trio of ghastly spirits erupt out of the barrel of my gun and disappear into the shadowy cloud, a second explosion following in quick order. And when the smoke finally cleared, the Raider lay motionless on the ground.

“Nice,” Frank said. “Obviously the high point was the pistol whip, but everything else was passable.”

“I'll take passable,” I said. I looted the two creatures and came away with a pair of Lesser Soul Gems plus a couple of copper coins. “That Magekiller was nasty, though. What was that first skill it used? A decoy or something? My Dreadful Shot didn't even touch it.”

“Bingo,” Frank said. “Astral Projection. It's an Illusion Magic skill. Basically he created a copy of himself and became invisible for a short period. That's how he got behind you.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. The projection had fun implications, but I was more interested in the school's potential; if an Illusion Mage could create a decoy, it didn't seem like too much of a leap to think they could alter their appearance, too.

And if I was really attracting as much attention—and hate—as Kline had claimed, that was something I badly needed. “Any Illusion Magic trainers around?” I said.

“Highwater City has a couple,” Frank said. “But you can't take another skill until you hit level 15.”

“Let's keep it in mind,” I said. “For now, we just need to make more of these guys dead. Two down, twenty-three more to go.”

I worked my way around the camp from there, sticking entirely to the perimeter and pulling single mobs away whenever I had the chance. Within twenty minutes or so, I'd cleaned up all the easy pickings, finishing off ten of the twenty-five bandits I needed and picking up a pair of decent items.

{Scavenged Leg Plates}

Grade: E

Item Level: 13

Slot: Legs

Type: Plate

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +3 Strength, +3 Constitution

Armor: +6%

{Fingerless Grips}

Grade: E

Item Level: 11

Slot: Hands

Type: Cloth

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +4 Dexterity

Armor: +2%

While I was a little bummed I couldn't equip either of those, the fact that I had allies on the way softened the blow quite a bit. With thirty-nine people heading in my direction—hopefully, anyway—every piece of gear I found was sure to be useful to someone.

I scouted around for a bit, then ventured closer to the camp, sliding in between some of the tightly packed spears into an area that had more Raiders than Magekillers. Moving between the spears, though…that gave me an idea.

I found a trio of Raiders sitting on the sand and passing a flask around, so I crept into spell range and started up a Ravenblast. I launched the spell and managed a second before the group even spotted me, notching a copy proc on the latter that resulted in hits for 65, 70, and 59 all on the same target.

I ran back toward the circle of spears, firing bolts over my shoulder all the while, and managed to put down the damaged mob with a Dark Harvest just as I reached the border.

I let the remaining two mobs draw a bit closer, hoping to trigger their leap ability. And sure enough, they both leaped in rapid succession.

So I activated Shadedrift and flew backward between the spears, resolving back into place on the other side of the fence. I immediately launched a Fettering Shot at one of the still-airborne mobs, then switched to the second and started chaining blasts through the gaps in the fence.

I'd hoped the mob would run straight into the spears, but he proved too smart for that; he hung a left as soon as he landed and made for the nearest gate.

I ran alongside the fence, gunning the mob down with blasts before turning my attention back to the one I'd snared.

I leveled my gun at the spot he'd occupied only moments earlier and frowned—he'd disappeared.

Something roared from overhead, and I looked up just in time to catch a knee to the chest. The latter Raider had leaped the fence in its entirety.

My vision swam as I was driven into the ground, the back of my head slamming into the sand. The Raider landed on top of me and immediately raised his cleaver.

“Stunned for three seconds,” Frank said as the Raider swung.

The cleaver thumped into my collarbone and the Raider immediately swung again, hacking repeatedly at the same spot, as if he were trying to separate my arm.

“Hit for 50, 45, 48,” Frank said. “Stun's wearing off!”

The Raider raised his now bloody cleaver yet again. I only had 17 Health remaining, so the next attack was guaranteed to be fatal.

The stun wore off as the Raider was mid-swing, so I angled my gun at his chest from beneath him and fired off a Dreadful Shot. He twisted away from me almost instantly, his cleaver burying itself in the sand.

I jumped to my feet, breathing hard, vision flashing red. I let the Fear run its course while I got some distance from the mob, then fired off a Fettering Shot at long range.

I peppered it with Ravenblasts from there, making sure to stay as far away as possible, thinking that leap had to have a somewhat limited range. A duplicated harvest put the mob down for good, and I immediately dropped to the sand, breathless and laughing. “That. Was. Awesome. I love this class. The mobility and the control, plus actually being able to take a hit? It's so much better.”

“That guy was my hero,” Frank said. “Did you see the way he leaped those spears? Man, that could've been us, Ned. Dealing bloody, unexpected deaths from above.”

“Eh.” I patted my gun. “I like shooting stuff. It's nice.” I bit into a hardtack biscuit I'd snagged from the pirates and watched my Health bar rise.

“It's a step up from all that mystical nonsense, that's for sure,” Frank said. “Always running around doing dumb things with your hands.”

“What?” I said, laughing. “You mean casting spells?”

“Look at me, I'm waving at you in a strange way and for some reason that creates a fireball,” Frank said. “Makes no sense.”

“It's literal magic, Frank.”

“It's nonsense is what it is.”

“And yet you have no issues with a magical gun.”

“I have fewer issues with a magical gun,” Frank said. “It's still dumb. But at least you can whack people with a gun. And it makes sense that stuff flies out of a gun, too.”

“You can also whack people with a staff.”

“I don't get staves,” Frank said.

“What is there not to get?”

“Why wouldn't you attach a blade to one end or something?”

“That would make it a spear. Mages don't use spears.”

“Just a really small blade, you know?” Frank continued. “I'm just saying, if you can put a blade on something, you should definitely do that.”

I stood up, my Health and Mana having recovered. “Alright, Frank, break's over. Time to get back to the grind.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

World-first Alert!

Player {Geezeman} is the first Player to find a Legendary item!

Awarding Title: {Treasure Hunter}!

I knelt beside the Barbarian I'd just finished off, which had completed the kill quest I'd been given, and stared at the prompt in disbelief. “You can't be serious. Someone already found a Legendary?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Gotta be one of Darling's crew,” I said. I shot her a quick message asking if somebody in her guild had found it, but she quickly replied that wasn't the case. “Wow. A total rando just dropped a Legendary a couple of hours into the game.” I looked to Frank. “How strong are Legendaries?”

“They totally break the game,” Frank said. “That guy just instantly became a one-man army. He might only be level 2 or something, but he could already crush your skull into smithereens with a passing glance. It'll level with him, too. He'll never need to replace that piece of gear.”

I blinked down at him, my mouth hanging slightly open.

“Dude,” Frank said. “I'm kidding. What kind of a lunatic would put an item that strong into a brand-new game? And have it be obtainable a couple hours in?”

“Oh, you'd be surprised,” I said, grumbling the words. “But seriously. What's the deal?”

“I dunno, I wouldn't worry about it,” Frank said. “Worst-case scenario is that it's a weapon, and even then it'll only be amazing for the first ten levels or so, then he'll have to replace it with a higher leveled piece.”

“Still feels worrisome,” I said. “Darling already has a bunch of people at level 5, and they've only been in-game for a little over a day and a half. And now some random guy just looted a Legendary. Everybody seems to be moving way faster than I did, advantages and all.”

“Different goals,” Frank said. “We were playing the long game. Everybody else is just racing along.”

“If you say so,” I said. I looted the last bandit and picked up another Lesser Soul Gem, which at this point I had a pretty good number of. I'd looted a few pieces of Uncommon armor along the way, too, plus a Rare dagger, but nothing I could actually use.

As far as I could tell, I'd cleared the entirety of the camp, but I still hadn't made any progress with the other two quests. “I'm supposed to raze this camp, right?”

“That's the dream,” Frank said.

I pulled up the Quest Log and read over the options just in case I'd missed something. It just said I needed to clear all the enemies, then I could claim the camp as a—

There was a flash of silver light, then one of the tents to my left shimmered.

“Behind you!” Frank said.

I whirled to find a bandit halfway through mounting a horse I'd somehow missed. And they were headed for the nearest gate. I inspected him.

{Bandit Messenger} (Level 6 Humanoid)

H.P: 300/300

M.P: 200/200

The Messenger cracked the reins, and his mount shot forward, kicking up a huge amount of sand.

I put on a burst of speed and activated Fettering Shot, watching the silvery beam rapidly close the distance only to see it pass right over the Messenger's shoulder and fizzle out shortly thereafter. The spell had missed.

I followed up with a Dreadful Shot, which thankfully connected, but instead of fearing the rider off his horse, all I got was a little floating alert that the mob was immune to fear effects.

I cursed under my breath and skidded to a stop, waiting for the Messenger to pick a direction once he was through the gate. Given the gate he'd chosen, he'd have to double back to the road no matter which way he went, and I didn't think a horse was going to be well-suited to the open desert.

The rider hung a right out the gate, so I ran in that direction and Shadedrifted between the spears, putting myself directly in the rider's way.

I wound up a Ravenblast and aimed high, waiting for the rider to come around the corner.

What I hadn't counted on, though, was that he'd come back into view with a bow already drawn and an arrow ready to loose in my direction. The arrowhead brightened with icy blue light.

I took a few quick steps to my right, then juked to my left, smirking as I realized the Messenger had taken the bait and released his attack.

The icy arrow hummed through the air and struck the far edge of the road. An icy dome arose around the impact zone, and it was obvious that, if I'd taken a direct hit, I'd have been locked inside it while the Messenger rode away.

I released my Ravenblast, which the Messenger unsuccessfully tried to duck, the explosion erupting around his midsection and almost toppling him sideways out the saddle, a yellow 65 floating up into the air.

But the rider managed to keep hold of the reins and quickly climbed back into position. His mount lowered its head and charged, intent on trampling me.

I got off a second Ravenbolt, then threw myself sideways onto the road, the horse galloping right by me. I launched a third blast as I climbed to my feet and gave chase, watching as Fettering Shot's cooldown ticked lower and lower.

Despite my speed, the Messenger quickly gained distance, and at the rate he was going, he'd outpace me well before I could finish him off.

I raised my weapon and squeezed one eye shut, trying to will my spell to connect. But just before I activated the spell, I had a change of heart and lowered the gun a few inches.

Why not target the horse? It was a much bigger target, and a quick inspection revealed that it was absolutely fair game. Plus, it was only level 2.

I activated Fettering Shot just as the horse reached maximum range, silvery light erupting from the barrel of my gun. The beam struck the horse in its hindquarters, and I gave a little whoop as the shackles appeared beneath it, snaring its legs.

I ran as fast as I could, charging up a Ravenblast as I pushed forward, but the horse was still moving quickly enough to stay ahead of me.

The shackles, though…they were growing at an incredible rate. And if the horse ignored my snare and tried to push through it, it was going to end up triggering the root portion of the—

The horse jerked to a stop as the shackles pulled tight, sending the rider flying off its back and crashing into the road. The horse strained for a few seconds as the root ticked away, then bolted right by its rider the moment it was free.

I approached the rider with my gun at my side, the barrel swirling with purple and black energy. “You almost made it,” I said as I raised the gun at the still-prone Messenger.

He tried to climb to his feet, but he'd been injured in the fall, and his legs weren't cooperating. He threw a hand out in front of his face, his eyes wide with fear. “Please, I'm just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said as I let my Ravenblast fade away. I holstered my gun and squatted down beside him. “Don't shoot the messenger. Heard that one before.”

“Are you…are you going…” the Messenger said. His leg was bent at an odd angle and his teeth were chattering. He didn't look long for this world.

“All I need is what you're carrying,” I said. “Letters, maybe?”

The Messenger shrugged, and a leather strap slid from his shoulder. I grabbed it and tugged, making the Messenger wince as the effort pulled a small pouch out from beneath his tunic. I checked my Quest Log, which informed me I'd completed the messenger quest. “Please,” he said, “I just needed the money for—”

He ripped a dagger out of his boot and lunged for my throat.

I leaped backward and blasted him with a Dark Harvest, putting him out of his misery. The Messenger's body brightened with green sparks, so I looted him thinking I'd just found another Lesser Soul Gem. But I was pleasantly surprised.

{Messenger's Vest}

Grade: E

Item Level: 11

Slot: Chest

Type: Leather

Quality: Uncommon

Primaries: +2 Dexterity, +2 Intelligence, +2 Charisma

Armor: +6%

I threw that on immediately, grateful to be replacing my cosmetic shirt with an actual piece of gear. The item was a gray leather chest piece that looked exceedingly worn despite its durability, but it was easy to move in, and the stats were great.

I'd also looted the quest item I needed, which was a bundle of letters. That meant I now had both Shooting the Messenger completed as well as Culling the Swarm, which only left Torching the Frontier.

“Nice find on the chest piece,” I said. “We've still got a lot of gear to replace, but it's nice to start off with one of the bigger items.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Good find.”

I headed back into the camp, and this time I was greeted with a prompt.

System Alert: This area is uninhabited. You may claim or raze this area as you see fit.

Warning: You lack the requisite Housing capacity to claim this area.

I looked around, frowning at the decrepit camp. Just a bunch of raggedy tents with dead bodies lying all around. “Not the sort of place I'd really want to claim even if I had the space,” I said. “But that's an interesting mechanic. Could I theoretically claim a town?”

“No, it only works here because this space is empty, and the devs have already flagged it as potential Housing,” Frank said. “But there's a way to claim towns, cities, that sort of thing. Can't say anything about that just yet.”

I highlighted the raze option, which triggered another prompt.

Razing this settlement will provide 9 Silver and 45 Copper, but this action cannot be undone.

Confirm?

I blinked at that. The better part of ten silver was nothing to sneeze at, but with Lars flipping our water back at the city, I was much more interested in the mechanic. “You got a codex entry on Razing by chance?”

“No codex,” Frank said, “but I can hit you with the actual description.”

Raze: Permanently burn down an eligible settlement that is either uninhabited by N.P.C's or is controlled by the Razing player. Razing a structure will permanently delete all structures and items from the settlement and will award the Razing player with 33% of the value of the destroyed items. Any Players who are standing within the area that is being Razed will lose 10% of their total Health every 1 second for the duration of the Razing period.

I cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, you would show me that. Does make a raiding playstyle a lot more interesting. I need to get some levels so we can figure out how Player Housing plays into that… Wait.” I squinted down at him. “Could somebody raze my plots?”

“It's possible,” Frank said. “But the key word is settlement. Somebody would have to either take over the entire N.P.C part of the Withered Vale—that's the settlement you're currently in—or clear out the whole city first. They can't just walk up to your plots and set them on fire. Gotta deal with the guards and so on.”

“Good to know,” I said.

“Uh huh,” Frank said.

I headed out of the camp, not wanting to get caught in the middle when the flames went up, and was about to raze the entire area when the silver reward caught my eye again. I clicked out of the Razing option right away and walked back in.

“What're you doing?” Frank said.

“Something's not right,” I said. “We're getting almost ten silver for burning this place down?” I gestured around at the camp. “It's sand, basically. A bunch of wooden spears surrounding empty sand and filthy tents. And if the reward is ten silver, it means that there's something valuable here. Something worth nearly a third of a gold coin.”

Frank didn't say anything, which only confirmed my suspicions.

I scanned the area, my eyes sliding to an empty spot pressed up against the fence. The Messenger's horse's hoofprints were still visible, so I followed them until they disappeared. I pulled my gun out and jabbed around at the air, hoping I'd meet some kind of resistance.

“This really doesn't seem like the sort of game that would just spawn a guy on a horse in the middle of an encounter,” I said. “I couldn't even tell where he'd come from, just saw a bunch of shimmery light, then there he was.” I took a couple of steps forward and kept poking around. “But I'm not—” I cut off as my gun snagged on something soft.

I whipped the weapon sideways, and for a split second it seemed like I'd torn a hole in the air itself.

I peered through the gap and into the torchlit space beyond, a semi-permanent tent supported by wooden poles. It was a large but simple space with a horse stall tucked into one corner and a writing desk at the far end.

The tent itself was obviously enchanted, the cloth walls covered in shining blue runes, which were probably acting as some kind of invisibility spell. “Called it,” I said. “An enchanted tent could easily account for thirty silver. Can I loot this thing somehow?”

“It's a building,” Frank said, “so no. Have I mentioned I hate Illusion Magic?”

“Not yet,” I said. “But I assumed that was the case. Man. I could really use an invisible tent.”

“I particularly despise Illusion Magic,” Frank said, ignoring me completely. “Bunch of lying liars.”

“Noted,” I said. I approached the writing desk, opened its lone drawer, and found a wad of papers inside, so I tossed those into my inventory and kept searching.

A cooing sound drew my attention to a small wooden crate that sat beside the desk. I lifted the lid open and was rewarded with another coo; a single pigeon was ruffling about inside, locked within one of six small compartments topped with netting. I looted the crate and triggered a series of prompts.

You received {Box of Messenger Pigeons}!

New Quest: Birds of a Feather!

Objective: Deliver the {Box of Messenger Pigeons} to the captain of the guard.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and Reputation with {The Withered Vale}. Provides a slight advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}. Access to a questline that will provide a substantial advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe} when completed.

“Jackpot,” I said. “Four quests in one go. Man, I love it when they dovetail together like that. We're already halfway to level 8. And more importantly, we've got a trail to follow.”

“Jerks who never tell the truth about anything,” Frank said.

“What?” I said as I made my way out of the enchanted tent. “Are you still on the Illusion thing?”

“Are you still on the Illusion thing,” Frank said, mocking me with what was honestly a pretty good impression of my voice. “Yes, Ned. Obviously I'm still on the Illusion thing.”

“I get it,” I said. “You don't want me to become an Illusion mage. I feel like we've been together long enough where you can just be direct. I'll listen, then I'll decide whether or not I want to ignore whatever it is you said.”

“Wow,” Frank said.

“No point in trying to be all subtle about it,” I continued. “Also, you're the least subtle person I've ever met.”

“I despise Illusion Magic,” Frank repeated. “It doesn't do any damage. Or hurt people in any way.”

“And so we arrive at the heart of the matter,” I said. I ducked out through one of the gaps in the wall of spears and brought the Raze menu back up. “Any reason I should hold off on burning this down?” I said.

I figured I wasn't going to get a straight answer, but the more time I spent with Frank, the more I was beginning to realize that even his refusals to provide information were a sort of hint in and of themselves.

“Burn it burn it burn it!” Frank said.

“Your enthusiasm is a little concerning,” I said. “But here goes.” I confirmed my choice.

A wave of fire raced across the sand, instantly igniting the tents and sending orange flames licking skyward as Frank cackled at my side.

The heat was so impressive that I Shadedrifted backward, needing to get away from it. The tents burned down to cinders almost immediately, though the enchanted tent took a good bit longer to go up. Eventually, the fire reached the wooden spears, which fell like dominoes beneath the blaze.

“There we go,” I said as my Quest Log updated and the coins were deposited into my inventory. “Let's head back to town and turn these in. I can't wait to see how much money Lars has made us.” I sprinted up the nearest dune, heading for the Vale.

I kept to the tops of the dunes this time, wanting to scout as much as I could. And though there wasn't much to look at other than bleached bones and the occasional palm tree, I did spot three heavily guarded caravans rumbling north, which supported what the captain had told me.

I headed straight for the Commerce Ward when I arrived at the Vale, where the air still stank of smoke. I found Lars and House tucked away in our little courtyard, between the soot-stained buildings that surrounded it.

Lars was leaning against the tree—which I could have sworn had grown another foot since I'd left—his chin tucked so deeply to his chest that his features were totally obscured.

House was squatting up against one of the walls that framed our plots, and I was impressed with how well she was blending in until I realized that she was copying the posture of a man standing across the street. It even looked like she'd synced her breathing to his, but maybe the fact that she was breathing at all was a win.

“So how'd we do?” I said. “Do we have enough to start the inn?”

“We have accumulated fifteen silver coins,” House said.

“Fifteen silver?” I repeated. “We only made fifteen silver? I thought the waters were selling at three a pop?”

“They were,” Lars said. “Ran into a little problem.”

“In my estimation, it is a sizeable problem,” House said.

“Spill it,” I said.

Lars looked up at me, his face mottled in blues and purples. His nostrils were caked in blood, and his lower lip was three times the size it should have been. “I had more silver on me, but that's gone, so. You wanna guess how I lost it?”

I rushed over to get a look at him, stopping a few paces short as he turned sideways and away. “Forget the silver,” I said. “What happened?”

“I got stopped by somebody in a red and gold cloak who said I was dealing without a permit but wouldn't explain what that meant. Then I got jumped a couple minutes later. Two guys, one tall, one wide, both wearing leather armor beneath the same cloaks. I'd already sold a load of water, but they took all the coin I had on me. Fifteen silver, right down the drain.”

I met Lars' eyes, my blood pounding in my ears. “Red and gold? You're sure?”

He nodded. “The cloaks are hard to miss. I'm going to get back to selling in a half hour or so once things have calmed down. Probably have to avoid the Commerce Ward, though. Figure that'll probably drive the price down.”

I gritted my teeth. “Wait until I talk to the captain of the guard,” I said. “I'm headed that way now. Maybe I can convince him to do something about it. If not, I'll handle it myself.”

Lars shrugged. “If you say so.”

Though the beating had obviously affected him, I was more worried about Lars' reaction to it than anything else. He just looked…defeated. And the fact he didn't seem to care if he got worked over again did not seem a promising sign.

I said my goodbyes and left the two of them in front of our not-even-partially-completed inn and made a beeline for the guardhouse, pushing my way through the busy street, seething inside while I scanned the crowd for the capes Lars had mentioned.

I spotted a couple of them right away, though they belonged to a pair of merchants who worked a booth selling spices, and neither of them fitted the build Lars had described.

“Please tell me this merchant stuff is related to the Raid Quest,” 1 said to Frank. “I'm worried about Lars and I need to do something to fix this, but if this is a side quest sorta thing, I don't know if I have time for it right now.”

“Yup, this is good,” Frank said. “Everything that happens in this city is related to that quest. Some events are more important than others, but yeah. This is a good spot to be.”

“Good,” I said as I took the stone steps up to the guardhouse two at a time. I pushed in through the heavy, reinforced door and made straight for the war room, eventually finding the captain sitting in the same chair he'd occupied earlier, his head in his hands.

“We have a problem,” I said. I narrowed my eyes. “We have several problems.”

“Don't I know it,” the captain said without looking up at me. “Did you manage any of the tasks I gave you?”

I nodded. Given that each of the quests offered a reputation boost, I wanted to get everything completed before I brought up Lars and what had happened to him. “Yeah. I finished all three. Plus I found something you might be interested in.”

I turned the quests in, earning one prompt that repeated three times, each repetition belonging to one of the three quests the captain had given me.

You completed a quest!

You earned 250 Experience!

You earned 15 Renown!

Your reputation with {The Withered Vale} has slightly increased!

And a fourth prompt that was more substantial:

You completed a quest!

You earned 350 Experience!

You earned 50 Renown!

Your reputation with {The Withered Vale} has slightly increased!

I winced. I'd been hoping that turning those four quests in would be enough to bring me back to Neutral with the Vale as a whole, but obviously I'd thought wrong.

“This is…beyond my expectations,” the captain said. He stood up and peeked into the crate of pigeons, which had appeared in front of him on the table.

“I'm glad,” I said, “because I need help with something.”

“Do you now?”

“One of my people was selling water around town. He said he was stopped by a merchant who lectured him for not having a permit, then he ended up getting jumped and robbed by two of his men.”

“Selling water,” the captain repeated, his expression darkening. “While the town is still smoldering? And while its people are panicking about what they'll have to drink come tomorrow?”

Your reputation with {The Withered Vale} has slightly decreased!

“Yeah. I'd be happy to donate all of my water to the people of the Vale if that would stop them from trying to murder me.” I met his eyes. “Maybe you could arrange that? Seems a lot more doable than eradicating a threat that plagued you for years before I even arrived.”

“A threat that grew increasingly dire upon your arrival,” the captain said, “but yes, I do see your point. And I'm not surprised your man was bullied off the street. That is the way of things here. The Kings' Decree plainly states that any who sell water are to be fined and their goods are to be confiscated.”

“Which is the sort of loss I was expecting,” I said. “And if that's all that had happened, I wouldn't have brought it to the person who I assume is in charge of enforcing the decree itself. But they beat the crap out of him on top of everything else.”

The captain rubbed his chin. “Did they now? That is…an overstep on their part. And no, I am not responsible for enforcing the Kings' Decree. The merchants are responsible for tending to their business.”

“So how do I go about getting permission to trade at the market?”

“You go to work for one of the three merchants,” the captain said.

“What does that involve, exactly?”

“Paying a ten gold fee to one of the three of them,” the captain said. “That'll buy you a cloak, which you'll wear whenever you're conducting business. You'll also have to give 65% of your profits to whoever you sign up with.”

“You can't be serious,” I said. “Ten gold? I don't even have a gold coin.”

The captain shrugged. “That's the point, basically. The only way to make it rich in the Vale is to be born into the right family, or to show up rich in the first place. The Merchant Kings wouldn't have it any other way.”

I licked my lips. It was increasingly beginning to seem like I'd misjudged things. The captain didn't appear to think very highly of the Vale's de facto rulers. “And the beating my friend took?” I said.

“I'm afraid I can't help you. Your friend broke one of the Vale's most well-known rules, and though I don't agree with the Merchant Kings and their sense of justice, they were within their rights to seize his coin. If I were to press the issue, they'd simply say your man resisted, and it would be his word against theirs.”

“You can't do anything?” I said.

He shook his head. “Afraid not. Even if you did have grounds to complain, without the merchants and their gold, there is no guard. They're not the sort we can afford to cross.”

“I see,” I said. I was starting to think that my options were going to be pretty limited until I had a bit more coin in my pocket.

“I'm sorry,” the captain said. “I empathize with your friend, and I wish I could do more to help. I don't like the ration system the merchants have implemented any more than you do, but it is what it is. Until you can find a way to purchase a cloak for your trader, I'd suggest he take his business elsewhere. If he caught a beating the first time around, the merchants will not be so kind a second time.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We'll figure something out.”

The captain patted the box. “This, though. This is interesting. Do you know how messenger pigeons work?”

“They carry messages?” I said.

The captain stood and scooped the crate up under one arm. “They do indeed. But pigeons don't learn routes. They instinctually return to a single spot no matter where they're released.” He paused, as if to let that sink in. “Do you catch my meaning?”

“We could release them,” I said. “And see where they go. Might tell us where the Barbarians are getting their supplies from.”

“Exactly,” the captain said. “Follow me.”

The captain led me out of the guardhouse and into the street, toward the back of the Vale where the dune the city was built upon was at its highest point. The area offered a pretty good vantage of the surrounding area, the white-but-smoke-blackened buildings cascading down all around us.

He set the box down on the sand, cracked the lid, and peered inside, his face falling. “Only a single bird,” he said. “It's going to be difficult to learn much from a single departure. What do you think? Do we bring it into the desert and try to use it to track the camp, or do we roll the dice from here?”

“We open it here,” I said, because I had a hunch that something was up. And I didn't have much time to spare.

“Alright,” the captain said. “Shall we?”

“Let's do it.”

He released the bird, and though it flew north at first, it seemed to stutter in the air for a moment. Then it hung a hard left turn and flew into the King's Ward, landing atop the roof of a building whose entryway was draped with a pair of red and gold banners.

I smiled at that. I couldn't help it.

But the captain's expression was hard, his lips set to a grim line. “House Vesuvian.”

“You wanna guess whose colors the people who robbed my friend were wearing this afternoon?” I said.

“Your tone indicates I needn't bother,” the captain said. He rubbed his temples with both hands. “Vesuvian is the weakest of the three great merchants, but he is by no means weak. And if he's the one supplying the Barbarians…” he trailed off, looking lost. “I don't know.

I'm sure the other Houses would be interested in this development, but they aren't going to act on our word. Bah.”

“There's this, too,” I said as I pulled the papers I'd found in the Messenger's desk and popped them into my hand.

The captain snatched them up and rifled through them, his expression darkening as he flipped through the stack. “Receipts for water, food…and Spell Scrolls?” He brought the papers closer to his face, as if he didn't believe what was written on them. “It can't be.”

“What are those?” I said.

“Scrolls are powerful artifacts,” he said. “They're like spells that have been stored by a powerful mage. Each scroll can only be used once, but they allow anyone who possesses them to wield incredible magic.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Do the papers say who's selling? Obviously, House Vesuvian is trading with the Barbarians, but that doesn't mean the other Houses aren't as well.”

“That is a troubling thought,” the captain said. “But no. There are no names, no identifying marks, nothing.”

“Not surprising,” I said. “What about dates? Or even timestamps?”

He nodded. “All of the entries are dated, and a few of them do indeed have times noted. That may prove helpful down the line.”

Your reputation with {The Withered Vale} has slightly increased!

“Still,” the captain continued. “This is a mess.”

“A mess I'm more than happy to help you clean up,” I said. “But only after the townspeople have decided not to hang me.”

The guard nodded, a glint coming into his eye. “Well…when you put it like that…”

“I don't like the way you're looking at me,” I said.

“I've already told you the guard can't act without proper evidence. As you said, it's obvious that House Vesuvian is cooperating with the Barbarians. But it's not nearly obvious enough that I could broach the subject with the other two great Houses without risking their ire. They are the type to close ranks, if you understand my meaning.”

I grinned, already seeing where this was going. “But I'm not affiliated with the guard. I could act without jeopardizing your reputation, funding, what have you.”

“Exactly,” the captain said. “And if your goal is to wipe the Barbarians out by tomorrow night, a shipment of magical weaponry should be of considerable interest. Denying them food and water could prove useful as well, particularly if their Woodbone allies are as numerous as I fear they are.”

“I just wish I had more time,” I said, hoping somehow that the guard would be able to grant me an extension. It seemed wildly unlikely, but I had to try. “If I had an extra day or two, I could focus on cutting off their supplies. That'd be a far more effective tactic the longer it went on.”

“True,” the captain said, “but do not underestimate the impact dehydration and hunger have upon a man in armor. Particularly if that man is fighting in the desert sand. Even the loss of a single meal can cause one to lose his edge in combat.”

So much for that extension.

“Fair enough. I've got friends headed this way as well. Imagine they could use some scrolls. Any suggestions on where we go from here?” I said, hoping to trigger a quest.

He pulled the packet of receipts back out. “Now, these papers indicate that the Barbarians have been receiving their orders about an hour after sunset. If I were to investigate the issue, I imagine I'd take a small force and position myself somewhere to the north with a good view of the road.” He met my eyes. “And if a caravan were to roll through with red and gold trim, well, I might drum up an excuse to have a look inside.”

New Quest: {Two for the Price of None} (Group Quest: 5 Players Recommended)!

Objective: Intercept the House Vesuvian caravan before it reaches the Barbarian Stronghold.

Bonus Objective: Follow the caravan until you discover the location of the Barbarian Stronghold, then intercept it before it reaches the safety of the camp.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and increased reputation with {The Withered Vale}. Provides a substantial advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}.

Bonus Reward: Access to a questline that will provide a large advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe} when completed.

“Understood,” I said.

I was grateful for the quest, but if I couldn't complete it until after sunset—nor even attempt it until Darling showed up with guildies in hand—then I had a couple of hours to fill.

The captain clapped a hand to my shoulder. “I am grateful for the help, truly. And I hope not to see you hang.”

“You and me both,” I said.

The captain scooped up the crate and made to depart. “In the meantime, I'm going to tiptoe around the other Houses and see what I can dig up. I want to believe that at least two of them might have my city's best interests in mind, but I can't say I'm sure that's the case. I'll let you know what I discover.”

“One last thing,” I said.

“Yes?” the guard said.

“I need to get back to selling water. I can't stay broke in a city where money is power.”

“Again, I wish I could help, but—”

I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I know, I know, the guard can't act without evidence, the merchants fund the guard and so on. But I'm not asking you to act,” I said. “I'm asking you not to interfere.”

The captain cocked an eyebrow at that. “What are you planning?”

“I'm thinking I need to acquire one of those red and gold cloaks,” I said.

“I didn't realize your pockets were that deep,” the captain said.

“They aren't,” I said.

“Ah,” the captain said. “I see.” He paused for a long moment, then eventually sighed. “Like I said before, the guard is not responsible for enforcing the decree. Other than that, I will say only this. Given the fire and the Barbarians and the Fae themselves, the city guard is currently stretched far beyond its limits. So far, in fact, that were someone to make an unfounded accusation—perhaps even one of the Merchant Kings themselves—the guard wouldn't have the manpower to start an investigation.”

He narrowed his eyes. “But as for the criminals we catch in the act? They tend to swing the gallows sooner rather than later. Do you catch my meaning?”

“I do,” I said.

“Then good luck. You'll need it.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I headed back to the courtyard and spent well over an hour making good on my promise to Darling, cycling through video calls with the various raid members who had agreed to join and giving them the information that Frank and I had promised.

Each conversation only lasted a minute or two, and Frank handled pretty much everything directly to save time, but all those minutes added up after being multiplied thirty-something times over.

Thankfully—if unsurprisingly—the full thirty-nine had jumped at the proposal I'd made, and I was grateful to have one less concern to worry about. They'd already made good progress as a whole, too; the bulk of them were around level 4, with a handful of players already nearing level 6.

I was more than a little alarmed at how quickly my leveling advantage had given way, but Frank seemed to think we were progressing well, so I decided to take his word for now. In any case, there wasn't much I could do about it for the time being

Once the calls were done, I scouted through the city a bit, looking for the men Lars had described, then doubled back when I found them roaming the marketplace looking for their next victim.

“You sure you're up for this?” I said as I led Lars out of the courtyard and back into the city, heading for a long, cramped alleyway just off the main street, an area the sun didn't quite reach thanks to the proximity of the nearest buildings.

“Yeah,” Lars said. “I'm sure.”

“Alright,” I said. “So, here's the plan. Go out and advertise your water within earshot and pretend you don't see them. When they start following you, turn tail and run into this alley.

Then you just keep running, all the way out the other side. After everything's settled, we'll meet back up at the plots.”

“Why don't I turn and help?” Lars said.

“Won't be needed,” I said. I'd inspected the two enforcers right away; they were only level 3, and they both had Health totals in the low 200s. “Better to keep your name clean if something goes wrong.” I offered him two units of water.

Lars took a deep breath, took the water, then headed out of the alley and disappeared into the street beyond.

“So this will work, right?” I said. “I can attack an N.P.C in town so long as the guards don't see?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“Great. But do you think this is the right way to handle this?” I hesitated. “Never mind, of course you do. Stupid question.”

“You know what would really send a message?” Frank said.

“What's that?”

“Beating these guys up with your bare hands.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna pass on that.”

“Of course you are,” Frank said. “So what're you going to say?”

I cocked an eyebrow down at him. “To the guys that I'm robbing? Nothing. I'm just gonna kill them and take their cloaks.”

“Really?” Frank said. “I mean, awesome, obviously. Totally here for that. But really?”

I shrugged. “I don't love it, but we already know these guys are deliberately keeping the people here poor and thirsty so that the kings stay rich. Plus, they're working with the Barbarians, and they beat the hell out of Lars for no reason. He's been through enough as it is these last few days, and I want him to know that I've got his back from here on out.

“And what's the alternative to killing them?” I continued. “Knock them out so they can go running back to the kings about their stolen cloaks when they wake up? Nope. Can't imprison them, either. I don't have any place to put them. I think my hands are pretty tied, and I'm not about to put the lives of two bullies above our future in the sands.

We need those cloaks, too. It's too neat of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “For future reference, though, no murder justification needed. Random acts of violence are the oxygen I breathe. You coulda just said you liked the smell of blood, that you were bored, anything really. I was just curious because you seemed less lame all of a sudden.”

I heard feet slapping on pavement from toward the street, so I ducked behind a pair of barrels right as Lars raced by me.

A couple of seconds later, the two thugs pounded down the alley and ran right by my hiding spot. I rose to my feet and raised my weapon, firing off a Fettering Shot at the shorter of the two thugs and a Dreadful Shot at the other. I stalked forward, charging up a Ravenblast just as the rooted N.P.C spun toward me, his face contorted with rage.

Rage that very quickly turned to fear as the barrel of my gun darkened, dark swirls of energy spinning around it.

“You can't touch us,” the rooted N.P.C said. “We're spoken for. Vesuvian will—”

I fired, and my blast duplicated, sending two small ravens lancing toward the N.P.C. Both of them hit home, the two combining for 150 damage and dropping the low-leveled N.P.C to 29%.

I finished him off with a harvest, stepped over his prone body, then took aim at his companion, who was currently running around the middle section of the alley, still under the effect of the fear I'd hit him with.

I ran forward and kept casting, angling my body to the side as I released a Ravenblast. I Shadedrifted right behind the spell, passing directly beneath the N.P.C a split second after the impact, causing the spell's disorienting effect to kick in.

I lined up my next Ravenblast just as footsteps rang out near the entrance of the alley, opposite where the dead N.P.C lay. I blasted the still-disoriented N.P.C in the chest, then finished him off with a harvest, the sound of which drew a series of yells from whoever was approaching.

I turned and ran, looting both of the fallen N.P.C's as I went and picking up exactly what I needed, plus a hefty little bonus.

{Silver Coin} x17

{Tradecloak of House Vesuvian} x2

I glanced back over my shoulder, heart thumping. I heard the guards approaching, but I still couldn't see them, which meant they couldn't see me, either.

I threw one of the dead N.P.C's cloaks on and stepped out onto the street, keeping my chin tucked to my chest as I threaded my way into the milling crowd. My pulse spiked even higher as I kept walking, expecting to feel an armored hand clamp onto my shoulder at any moment.

But I kept moving, following the traffic as it wound its way through the many stalls and shops, the adrenaline fading as it became more and more clear I'd safely evaded my pursuers.

“Wow,” Frank whispered at my side. “You did actually kill them.”

“Uh huh,” I said.

“And then you robbed them. And immediately put their clothes on.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“Nice,” Frank said.

I glanced down at him. “It was pretty cool, right?” I made a gun with my finger. “I just stood up and started blasting and—” I cut off, dropping the finger gun to my side. “In hindsight, reenacting the murder I just committed while fleeing the scene is probably not the best look.”

“Probably not,” Frank said. “Plus finger guns are just super lame in general.”

“Fine. But it was cool.”

“It was passably cool,” Frank said. “For a mage, anyway.”

“Just you wait, Frank,” I said. “One of these days I'm gonna do something so awesome that you won't even be able to caveat it. You'll just have to be like…wow, Ned, that's awesome.”

“That is exceedingly unlikely,” Frank said.

“Yeah, we'll see.” I ducked down an alley and dropped the cloak back into my inventory. “Do we need to be careful with these cloaks?”

“Should be fine,” Frank said. “Always a chance someone wises up to what you just did, but there are a ton of merchants, and the only two people who recognized Lars are now dead.”

“Great,” I said. I popped out the alleyway and made for my plots. House was sitting on a nearby stoop watching all of the people go by, and Lars was sitting behind our tree, mostly out of sight.

I popped into the courtyard and sat down across from Lars. Then I dug one of the cloaks I'd stolen out of my inventory and tossed it into his lap. “Well,” I said, “it's safe to say those two won't be bothering you ever again.”

He looked up at me, his face still as bruised as ever. “Yeah? Did you rough them up?”

“You could say that,” I said.

“He straight up murdered them,” Frank said.

Lars swallowed and drew back slightly. “You…killed them?”

I sighed. I hadn't been planning on divulging that much right off the bat; I wasn't sure how Lars would take the news.

But now that the truth was out, I didn't want to lie to him. “Yeah, I did,” I said. “It was quick if that helps, and if there'd been a way to avoid it, I would have tried. But leaving them alive would have put you in too much danger.” I nodded at House. “Would have done the same thing for her.”

Lars blinked. “Well…thank you.” He rubbed his bruised face with both hands. “It's a lot to take in, but…thanks.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I know. But I appreciate that you came all this way, and I've got your back from now on.” I opened up my inventory and stared at the coins I'd racked up: forty-six silver in all, plus some extra copper. Just a few silver short of the fifty I needed to construct the inn. “Why don't you just take the rest of the day off? I could put you up at an inn or something. Get you out of the heat.”

He pulled the cloak up out of his lap and unfurled it. “You think I'm safe trading with this on?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said. “At least for a while.”

“Then if it's all the same to you, I'm just going to go back to work. I felt better when I was up and moving around.”

“Sure,” I said. “If that's what you want.”

He stood up and draped the cloak around his neck.

I popped a unit of water into my hand and held it out to him. “Use this one to clean your face up first, then drink the rest. You'll need it.”

He took the water. “Thanks, Ned. I'll see you later.” He did a quick trade with House, then slipped away down the street, his red and gold cloak flashing in the sun.

“House?” I said.

She was still sitting near the edge of the street, watching the crowd filter by, her eyes darting from face to face. “Yes?” she said, without looking back at me.

It didn't seem like she was going to come over, so I went over and stood next to her, equipping the Tradecloak as I went. I popped a unit of water into each hand and held them out to the milling crowd. “When Lars comes back, see if he'll take a break. If he insists on selling more water, fine. He's the only one who really knows what he needs right now, but I'm worried he's going to burn out.”

I scratched the back of my head. Once again, I'd forgotten what Lars really was for a second there. He just seemed like so much more than pixels and code.

“You should see if you can talk him into heading to an inn for the night,” I continued. “Maybe offer to get a drink with him? Probably be good for you as well. The more social interaction you can get before Darling and crew arrive the better.”

“I concur, and I am particularly interested in imbibing alcohol,” House said.

I stifled a laugh. “Great. Cover your expenses with the money Lars comes back with. We gotta figure out a fair way to pay him at some point, but he doesn't seem too worried about that for now.”

I spent a little while hawking water to the crowd, eventually selling a pair of units at three silvers a piece, then a call came in.

Video call incoming from Player {Darling}.

Accept?

I took it, and Darling's face resolved in front of me, the air wavering around the window. “Hey,” I said. I squinted at the window, trying to figure out where she was, but all I could see was the wooden boards that lay behind her. Her hair was matted, some of it sticking to her face in a way that didn't look natural. “Where are you? Something's off.”

“On a boat,” she said.

“What? I can't see anything on your screen.”

“Yeah, I'm lying down,” she said as she rubbed at her eyes. “Wanted to see what sleeping in-game was like. Woke up ten minutes or so ago and have been staring up at the sky ever since. Never seen anything so blue.”

“Just wait 'til the stars come out later,” I said. “It's absolutely unreal.”

“And the dreaded moon,” Frank put in.

I sighed. “Yup. Anyway, where are you?”

Darling sat up, the camera pivoting back over her shoulder. She rode in the bottom of a boat much like the one I'd arrived on, with waves breaking all around her. She pointed to a dark line on the far horizon. “That's it, right?”

I eyed the familiar coastline. “Yup. I'm impressed you made it here so fast. We don't have much time to spare, either. I've got a group quest we need to get working on right away. Should decrease the difficulty of that Raid Quest 1 sent you, plus it might earn us some magic scrolls.”

She cocked an eyebrow at that. “Magic scrolls, huh. Well, I'm game. How much time do we have?”

I eyed the sun, which was just beginning to set. “Not as much as I'd like. The quest's kind of vague, but we need to intercept a caravan that should be leaving the city shortly.”

“Can you share it?” Darling said.

I tried.

“Got it,” she said. Then she winced.

“What?” I said. “What's wrong?”

“Recommends five players. If this quest is as urgent timing-wise as you say it is, then we're only going to have four. I've got a ton of people sailing over, but only two of them are about to arrive. The others are all an hour or more back.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Alright, so we four-man it. Could be worse.”

“It…it's worse,” Darling said. “Neither of the two that are set to arrive are healers.”

“Oof. Anybody got an offheal or anything like that?” I said, hopeful. But given the way that the early classes seemed to work, it felt pretty unlikely.

“Nope,” Darling said. “Nada.”

“Alright then,” I said. I shot her a group invite, which caused a status window to appear in the top-left corner of my vision. I inspected the panel and was surprised to find I couldn't see her level or even her exact Health, just a percentage value. And in place of a Mana bar, she had an empty gauge.

I pulled up my mini map next, spotting a green dot a good ways off the coast.

“Looks like there's a suggest invite option,” Darling said. “You want me to get the others in group?”

“Sure,” I said.

Two small windows followed.

Player {Darling} has suggested you invite player {Rock} to the group. Accept?

Player {Darling} has suggested you invite player {Nina} to the group. Accept?

I accepted both of those prompts and dropped a quick hello into the group chat, then turned back to Darling. “Hey. Can you see my level at all?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“What about the people in your guild? Is there a roster there where you can check up on everyone at a glance?”

“Yeah,” Darling said. “Why?”

“Just wondering how much information people are going to have on me,” I said. “If you guys are already arriving, the other players can't be more than a day off.” I stared at the nameplate that floated above my head. “At which point things are gonna get wild.”

“Here's to hoping,” Darling said. “So what's the plan?”

“I guess you should head to where I am,” I said, “and have the others do the same. I've got a couple things to wrap up here in the meantime, but once we're all together we can head right out.”

Darling lay back down. “Alright. I'll see you soon.” She closed the call.

I headed back into the market, working my way from vendor to vendor, picking up all of the items I needed for the inn. And that…did not go smoothly.

I'd been hoping to shave ten or even twenty silver off House's estimate of fifty, but the fire had considerably driven up the value of the items I needed, and every single trader I approached firmly refused to negotiate. I even tried bargaining with water, but the best I could get in a direct trade was a silver and a half per unit, so it wasn't worth bothering with.

I needed five Iron Bars, which I bought at three silvers a piece for fifteen total, and the ten Rough Stone I needed ran me a silver each, bringing the damage to twenty-five silver.

It was the Lumber that killed me, though. I had to pay two silvers and twenty-five coppers per unit, and I needed ten pieces of Lumber, bringing the grand total to forty-seven silver and twenty-five copper.

With everything I needed in hand, I headed back to my plots and opened up the Housing menu. I confirmed the inn, generating a little chime and a message that several items had been removed from my inventory.

A stone framework appeared atop the sand, outlining where the building would eventually rest. A timer had popped up as well, which currently read:

Time until completion: 2 hours and 59 minutes.

I looked left, right, left. “No workers, huh?” I said to Frank. “How're the N.P.C's gonna react to a building magically appearing in a couple of hours?”

“Game logic,” Frank said. “It's just how buildings are done here. Won't be anything new to them.”

“I guess that's good,” I said.

“How much are you gonna share with Darling and company?”

“Hmm?”

“The inn,” Frank said.

“Oh,” I said. “Right. Should probably get a game plan together about how much we want to reveal to them. I hope things work out with them in the long term, but for now, we should be operating on a need to know basis.”

“Sounds good to me,” Frank said.

I rubbed my chin, which was patchy with stubble. “How long do you think this quest is gonna take if we go after the bonus objective?”

“Probably a while,” Frank said.

“More than the three hours it'll take for the inn to complete?”

“Counting travel time?” Frank said. “Maybe. Might be pushing it.”

“Damn. Well, hopefully I can find a way to distract them for a while once we get back to the city. In an ideal world, they won't even know that I own this inn; they'll just show up and think it's part of the city. Plus with the way we laid everything out, the inn should block our other plots from view.”

“I like it,” Frank said. “Lying is fun, unless it's an Illusionist who's lying. Then it's rude.”

“It's not a lie,” I said.

“Is so.”

“…Okay fine, it's a lie by omission. But Darling's guild isn't small, and the moment we tell somebody we've set up shop in the Sands for good is the same moment where we risk that little detail getting out to the rest of the player base. This game's going to be hard enough with the whole world gunning for us. But if they knew where to find us, too? That would make it impossible.”

“I do like impossible odds,” Frank said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I glanced at my mini map, checking Darling's position. Her fast travel boat had docked, and she was currently heading up the dunes and toward the city, though she was probably still a few minutes out.

“What else,” I said. “Oh, right. Shots.”

“Shots, shots, shots!” Frank said. “That's a great idea. If you get drunk before you meet up with everyone, you might be able to leverage some liquid courage into making the group think you have a spine.”

“What?” I said. “Oh. No, Frank. We're not getting drunk before attempting a quest we can't afford to fail.”

“You're no fun at all,” Frank said. “Everybody fights better when they're slightly drunk. It's not like this game has hangover debuffs or anything like that.”

“I was talking about actual shots. Profession shots.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “That does make a lot more sense. It's also much more boring.”

I sighed and opened up my Soul Alchemy window, scanning my options. I still had a couple of Bombshots on me, plus some Siphonshots, but if I wanted to progress efficiently and find a more useful recipe, I needed to craft up some Surgeshots. I brought the recipe up.

Recipe: {Lesser Surgeshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points on craft)

Your successful spells and abilities have a 20% chance to trigger a {Mana Surge} that restores 20% of your total Mana over 10 seconds. This effect has a 2-minute internal cooldown.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 29 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Lesser Soul Gem} x2.

I was still sitting at 20 skill in Soul Alchemy, and I had eleven Lesser Soul Gems to work with. I crafted the first Lesser Surgeshot and was awarded with 3 points, and a second craft gave me 2 more, bringing me up to 25 skill. But unfortunately, I didn't unlock anything new.

I looked over my current stock. I had more than enough shots to equip four people, but not necessarily enough to equip them well. Darling was obviously some sort of melee class, and given that she didn't seem to have Mana, Bombshot was the only valid choice I currently had for her.

I probably wanted a Bombshot or two as well, given that my Mana was almost a nonissue now with all the regeneration I was getting from my Dexterity.

But for the other two members of our party? I had no idea what would benefit them most.

I dropped a quick message into the group chat, asking them to give me a quick description of their classes and roles.

The short of it was that Rock was playing a Blood Brawler, a bruising melee fighter who used drain-based abilities to sustain himself.

Nina was playing a Venom Knife, a lightly armored dagger class that made up for its lack of stealth and burst by having access to a toolkit of useful poisons she could apply at a moment's notice.

Darling had actually rolled a Buccaneer, a two-handed melee class with great mobility and damage, but very little in the way of crowd control or sustain. Plus she couldn't equip the heavier armor types.

All in all? It wasn't the sort of group I'd been hoping for. We had no healer at all, and while Rock could probably soak a decent amount of damage, he wasn't remotely close to a true tank.

I thanked everyone and went back to my Soul Alchemy menu. Now that I'd gotten a better look at everyone's role, the decisions were a lot simpler: none of the Mana shots were likely to be of much use to anyone.

The unfortunate truth of the matter was that if a fight went long, our lack of healing meant we were likely to run out of Health well before we ran out of Mana. So our best shot was burning targets down quickly.

I was still happy with the Surgeshots I'd made because it couldn't hurt to have more options, but I crafted up six more Bombshots in the end, tucking the last gem away for later.

The first five crafts all awarded a single skill point, but the recipe grayed out on the sixth go-round and didn't raise my ability. Nevertheless, I'd hit 30 skill and unlocked a new type of shot.

Recipe: {Lesser Chainshot} (Consumable) (Awards 3 skill points on craft)

Your successful damaging spells and abilities gain a ricochet effect, striking up to 3 additional targets for 2% of the original skill or ability's damage. This effect may proc chance-on-hit effects.

Duration: 1 Hour.

This item requires an equipped weapon with an Item Level between 0 and 29 (E Grade Equipment).

Requirements: {Lesser Soul Gem} x3.

I cocked my head at the description, then pulled Bombshot up for comparison. Bombshot was burstier and far better against a single target, but Chainshot would outstrip it given two nearby enemies and would blow it away with three.

The far more interesting component, though, was that last clause: this effect may proc chance-on-hit effects. That immediately had me thinking of my racial passive.

If I could Ravenbolt a single target and splash three others with damage, did that mean I'd have three additional chances to proc a duplicate spell?

“Hey, Frank,” I said. “Can you parse the mechanics for me on that chance-on-hit thing?”

“What do you wanna know?”

“If I blast a mob with three other mobs nearby while Chainshot is active, do I get a total of four chances to proc my racial?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“And would the copies deal the full amount of damage? Or would they copy the splash and only deal 2%?”

“The latter,” Frank said. “Your racial always deals 100% of the damage of the spell that procced it, so if that spell hits like a noodle, your racial will also hit like a noodle.”

I deflated. I knew that had sounded too good to be true. Still, Chainshots could be a great option for AoE pulls, and given that we had a raid in the not-so-distant future, I was sure I could find a use for them.

I glanced back at my mini map. Darling was nearing the gates. And so with the inn officially underway and with all my crafted items in hand, I headed for the north gate, thinking I'd meet her there, far, far away from the base I'd set up.

Chapter Thirty

“I hate it,” Darling said as she kicked her way up one of the city's great dunes and entered the shade of the north gate. A long axe handle poked over her left shoulder, and she wore a set of oiled leather that was spotted with blood.

“Good to see you too,” I said. I had my hands on my hips, and I was ready to pop my gun into my hand if needed, but nothing in Darling's posture even remotely suggested she was thinking about attacking me.

“What do you hate?” Frank said.

Darling eyed my hip. “Well, that's way more jarring in person. The sand, obviously.”

“Totally understandable,” Frank said. “I also dislike sand. We have so much in common.”

“It's hot and it's gritty and it's in my mouth and in my boots,” Darling said. She paused. “I mean, the fact that I can feel all of that is frickin' amazing, but of all the climates you could have chosen, why'd you have to go with desert? I've been here for five minutes and I'm already missing the ocean.”

“Because he makes poor choices,” Frank said before I could respond. “That's kind of his thing. It's also why we're staring down the barrel of a mandatory Raid Quest four days into launch.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because he makes poor choices, says the all-knowing axe whose only responsibility is to guide me through the game.”

“I provide information,” Frank said. “You're the one who decides what to do with it.”

“Anyway,” I said, “thanks for getting here so quickly.” I peered over her shoulder, spotting an approaching figure who was far too big to be a player; whoever they were, they had to be almost ten feet tall. “Is that…” I trailed off and pulled up my mini map, finding two dots overlaying each other right where the figure was approaching from.

“That's the cavalry,” Darling said. “Rock and Nina are a package deal.”

“Oh,” I said as I realized what I was looking at. Nina was riding on Rock's right shoulder.

Still, Rock was enormous, easily matching the size of the Half-Giant Frank had shown me back when I was creating my character. I couldn't tell what he used for a weapon, but he wore a heavy set of copper armor, and he had a square face with a strong jaw.

Nina was a tiny thing in a blue sundress, her legs crossed, her entire frame lurching slightly with each long stride Rock took. She had her elbow resting atop Rock's helmet, a dagger dangling loosely from that hand.

“Hi there!” Nina said in a voice that was even brighter than her clothing. “Rock also says hello. Well, he doesn't say hello, but if he was going to say something, it would be hello.”

Rock inclined his head and…that was all he had to say, apparently.

“Welcome,” I said. “Glad to have you two aboard. Appreciate the help.” I brushed a hand against my weapon, just to remind myself it was there.

“We appreciate the money,” Nina said.

Rock shifted his shoulder, nearly causing her to slide free, but he caught her hip with one huge hand and kept her in place.

“Oh, right, thanks,” Nina said. “And getting into the game early. We really, really appreciate that. Especially Rock.”

The big man nodded again.

“You're welcome,” I said.

“So, how do we do this?” Nina said.

It was obvious she was addressing Darling, so I held my tongue.

“I don't know any more than you do,” Darling said. She grimaced and spat onto the ground. “God, this sand.”

“Maybe you should stop breathing through your mouth,” Nina said without missing a beat.

Darling stared at her, looking more exhausted than shocked. “So glad you're here, Nina.”

“Just saying,” Nina said. Rock shifted beneath her, causing her to slide toward his neck. “What?” she said down to him. “It's true. Hey, Ned. It's Ned, right?”

I had to crane my head up to meet her eyes. “Yup?”

“You noticed that too, right? Her lips are always just a little bit parted.”

I shrugged. “She only got here a couple minutes before you guys did.”

“That was a very diplomatic answer,” Nina said.

I stole a glance at Darling, and sure enough, a little crescent of her gap-toothed smile was showing between her lips. She caught me looking, so I glanced away.

“We're headed north, right?” Darling said.

“Uh huh,” I said.

Frank cleared his throat.

“Right,” I said. “Rock, Nina, meet Frank. He's an axe. A mouthy one.”

“Bearded axe,” Frank corrected. “Also, hi.” Rock nodded, and Nina waved.

“Now that the intros are done,” Darling said, “should we get going?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Clock's ticking.” I started out onto the north road and Darling stepped up beside me, while Rock and Nina followed about ten steps behind.

Nina was speaking to Rock in a quiet, agitated voice, and Rock was trying to calm her with a series of head pats that were very obviously having the opposite effect.

It was a little eerie having two players walking behind me, knowing they could jump me at any moment. And while I certainly out-leveled them—and my Tier 2 class change had vastly improved my stats—I still didn't have all that much in the way of gear, and a three versus one scenario was very unlikely to break in my favor.

I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath because there wasn't really anything I could do about that. It was either trust these people or give up on the Vale, and trusting them was the better option.

“So,” I said, once Rock and Nina were far enough behind that I didn't think they'd be able to hear me over the wind. “Nina. She's, uh…”

“A lot?” Darling said. “Yep. She really, really is. She's also my little sister. She's not so bad, just likes needling people, so don't take it personally whenever your turn comes. And never let her know she's getting under your skin.”

“Noted,” I said. “And I guess Rock's the strong and silent type?”

“More teddy bear than a strongman,” Darling said. “But yeah, he doesn't really talk in-game. He'll use the chat occasionally, but that's it. The three of us have been gaming together for years, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard him speak out loud. Nina says he talks to her all the time, but I don't think anyone's getting a word in edgewise with her, so take that for what you will.”

“But they're good, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Darling said. “Rock's solid, but Nina's top tier so long as she's got something sharp and pointy in hand.”

“Great,” I said.

“So, what's the plan?” Darling said.

“Head a bit deeper into the desert,” I said, “at least until we're out of sight of the city. Then we find somewhere safe to post up, preferably somewhere I can snipe from, and hope that a caravan shows up at some point.

“Once we know what we're dealing with, we can figure out how risky we want to play it. My feeling is that we go for that bonus objective, but with only four people we're going to have to see just how heavily the caravan's guarded.”

“Sounds good for now,” Darling said. “And did you say snipe?”

“Yup,” I said. I patted the gun at my side. “I'm a mage, basically. But I use a gun instead of a staff.”

“Ugh,” Darling said. “Mages.”

“Right?” Frank said. “I wanted him to roll a Half-Troll Fighter but no, he had to roll a guy who throws birds at things.”

“You throw birds?” Darling said, laughing in disbelief. “Seriously? What kind of mage throws birds?”

“A bird mage,” Frank said.

“I am not a bird mage,” I said. “Nor do I throw birds. Nobody in this game throws birds.”

“He just tosses 'em about all willy nilly,” Frank said. “You get a bird, you get a bird, every mob gets a bird. Don't even get me started on the feather thing. I never thought I'd see an explosion I didn't like until this guy came along.”

“You trying to get sheathed?” I said.

“Truth hurts, doesn't it?” Frank said.

I jammed him into his sheath, earning a few angry vibrations. “Just so you know, Frank can't talk or hear us speak while he's sheathed. And he really, really hates it. I'll pull him out in a minute or two, I just wanna let him heat up a bit.”

“Heat up?” Darling said.

“Yeah, you'll see.”

“Fair enough. I gotta see that magic though.”

“Sure.” I pulled my gun out of its holster, pointed it at a palm tree that capped a dune to my right, and charged up a Ravenblast.

I let the shot go, the Raven racing through the sky and connecting with the top of the palm, sending an explosion of green leaves and feathers ripping through the air.

“Ohhh,” Darling said. “So you don't throw birds, you shoot them.”

I sighed. “Pretty much.”

Darling elbowed me in the ribs. “Way cooler. Casting on the move seems pretty strong, too. Can't say I'm a big fan of people being able to do that as a melee player, but I've got a pair of pretty wicked gap closers already.”

I took a good look at her axe, which looked pretty plain. “Is that the same weapon you started with?”

“Sure is,” Darling said. She jerked a thumb back over her shoulder. “Rock found a set of Rare knuckles at level 4, and Nina picked up a pair of Uncommon daggers at level 5. But me? Nada. Just my luck, really. I'm already dealing way less damage than either of them.”

“You find any leather armor along the way?”

“Plenty,” Darling said. “But I'm using a lot of it.”

“Any Dexterity and Intelligence stuff?”

Darling frowned. “Nah. Why? That's a weird combo.”

“First class change switched me from cloth to leather,” I said. “I went from having a full set of cloth to only a few pieces I could even equip.”

“Brutal,” Darling said.

“Yeah, worth it though,” I said. “Huge power spike. And speaking of power spikes.” I opened up a trade window with Darling and threw that Epic axe I'd looted off the ghosts into it.

Darling slowed, then stopped, her mouth dropping open.

“You're doing it again,” Nina said.

Darling snapped her mouth closed. “You'd be drooling if you could see this thing too.” She shook her head, sighed, and canceled the trade. “But I can't pay for that.”

I opened the window back up. “I wasn't asking you to pay for it. We both know how much a melee user's damage depends on their weapon, and if we're going to knock this quest out, we're going to need as much firepower as possible. Just take it. I can't even use it anyway.”

“But you could sell it,” Darling said.

“Take the axe, dummy,” Nina said. “It's a free weapon.”

“She makes a pretty good point,” I said.

“Thank you!” Nina said, bright as ever.

Darling looked to Rock, who gave her a slow nod. “Fine,” she said. “But I owe you.”

I confirmed the trade, and the window vanished as she finalized it. “You really don't,” I said. “I need everyone as geared as possible.” I opened up another with Nina and gave her all of my extra cloth—which was a pretty hefty amount of stuff, but mostly useless for a dagger user—then did the same with Rock, gifting him what little plate I'd found. I handed them all a couple of Bombshots, too, as well as a Surgeshot for Rock and Nina, just in case.

I got a handful of Lesser Soul Gems in exchange and a bunch of weak ones, though at this point the poorer quality gems were useless when it came to leveling up my profession. But they could still prove useful as items, so I was happy to have them.

“Thank yooooou,” Nina said as she cycled through all the gear I'd given her. “All of this stuff is a bit dark for me color-wise, but it's nice to have options.”

Rock rapped a few fingers against the leg guards I'd given him, a goofy smile on his face.

“Nina,” Darling said, her voice taking on a bit of a threatening tone.

“Yes, dear sister?” Nina said.

“Nina,” Darling repeated.

“What?” Nina said.

Darling fixed her with a firm look.

“Nooo,” Nina said as she crossed her arms against her chest. She still wore the sundress she'd been wearing when she first arrived, but had put on the black gloves and boots I'd given her. I wasn't really sure why she'd done that—her stuff was probably comparable if not better—but I wasn't worried about it.

“Now, Nina,” Darling said.

Nina scowled at her, opened up a trade window with me, threw in an item, then instantly confirmed the transaction.

Then it was my turn to gawk.

{Skybreak Gloves}

Grade: E

Item Level: 15

Slot: Hands

Type: Leather

Quality: Rare

Primaries: +6 Dexterity, +3 Intelligence, +3 Constitution

Armor: +4%

I tossed the gloves on. They were bright blue, the exact color of the dress that Nina wore.

She huffed at me, then looked away.

“What are you pouting about now?” Darling said. “He gave you an entire armor set. And you can't even equip those gloves.”

“You can have them back when I find something else,” I said.

“It's fine,” Nina said in a tone that indicated it was not fine. Rock slowed his pace, and the two of them drifted back behind us.

“She'll get over it,” Darling said. She held both of her hands out in front of her without breaking stride, as if she were about to summon her new axe for the first time.

“Can you wait a second?” I said.

“What for?” Darling said.

“Frank will wanna see this.” I yanked him out of his sheath.

He came free with an overdramatic gasp, just like he always did. “You. Monster.”

“Uh huh,” I said.

“I feel like my whole body is covered in swamp butt.”

“That's disgusting,” Nina called from behind us.

“You think that's gross?” Frank said. “Being in that sheath is like—”

He cut off as Darling popped the Ghostblade axe into her hands. It was a massive, double-headed war axe, the blade fully black except for a thin line of green that marked the edges themselves.

“It's so beautiful,” Frank said.

Darling took a few practice swings, arcing the huge blade around as if it were weightless. “Oh man,” she said. “This is glorious. I cannot wait to find a clothy to bury this thing in.”

“I love her,” Frank said under his breath.

“What was that?” Darling said.

“He said he loves you,” I said.

“Dude,” Frank said. “Not cool.”

“Aw,” Darling said. “Normally I'd find that creepy, but for some reason, it's kinda sweet coming from an axe.”

“We're cool,” Frank whispered.

“Gonna go check on the other two,” Darling said. She flexed her fingers around the haft of her new weapon, then planted it on the sand and leaned down onto it.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“We're gonna be together forever,” Frank said as we crested yet another dune.

“You're crushing hard, huh?” I said.

“She is my soulmate,” Frank said. “I don't see how anyone could not love her. Wait. Do you love her too? You must. How could you not?

Oh, God, this is gonna be an issue, huh? What're we gonna do when she inevitably rejects you for me? That's gonna make things awkward between us.”

I shrugged. “Darling's cool.”

“Cool?” Frank said. “She is perfect in every way.”

“Feels like you're jumping the gun here,” I said. “We met her like twenty minutes ago.”

“But I feel like I've known her for decades. Also, she's pretty.”

“Yeah, it's a game,” I said. “Everybody's pretty. That's how it works.”

“Yeah, but she's really pretty,” Frank said. “Dark hair and pale skin spattered with blood? Swoon.”

“So?” I said.

“Wait…you do love her, don't you?” Frank said. “Of course you do. You're just keeping her at arm's length out of respect for me, Frank.”

“Sure,” I said, laughing a little. “Let's go with that.”

“It's so tragic,” Frank said. “She's already tearing us apart.”

“Can we please move on?” I said.

“Sure, as soon as you swear not to make a move on my girl.”

I sighed. “I'm not making moves, Frank. I've got enough shit to worry about as is, and I don't have any interest in trying to date the head of the only guild we can depend on.”

“Pinky swear?” Frank said.

“You don't have a pinky,” I said as I eyed the road, which curved up ahead beneath the summit of an especially steep dune.

Seemed like a pretty good ambush point; if we climbed the other side of the dune, the caravan wouldn't be able to see us until it was too late. And if the guards were melee, they'd have to struggle up the hill to reach us.

“Just like, wrap your pinky around my hilt or something,” Frank said.

“You can't be serious.”

“Pinky swears are never not serious,” Frank said. “I take pinky swears very seriously.”

“Fine.” I lifted Frank from his loop, extended my pinky, and wrapped it around him. “I swear not to make a move on Darling. But I would also like to reiterate that claiming another human being as if they're a piece of territory is seriously off-putting.”

“You're off-putting,” Frank said.

“What are you two doing?” Darling said.

“Don't ask,” I said. I dropped Frank into his loop and nodded at the spot I'd picked out. “But that seems like a good place to set up. I could post up atop the hill, and you guys could run down into melee range as the caravan approaches. That or go low, either way. Looks like the curve of the road will keep you hidden until the caravan's too close to make a run for it.”

Darling cocked an eyebrow. “I thought we were going to follow it and see where it leads?”

“That's the plan,” I said. “But I don't see any need to commit to that when we don't lose anything by keeping our options open. If it turns out to be heavily guarded, this kind of terrain might be the exact kind of edge we need.”

Darling pursed her lips, then eventually nodded. “Nina, Rock, can you guys head twenty feet or so down into that valley below the road? We'll send you a message if we're going to raid the caravan, otherwise we'll have you guys follow and stay ahead of it from the lower ground. That way we can attack from two directions when the moment comes.”

Nina glared at me—at my gloves, to be specific—then sulked away as Rock carried her off the curving road, down the dune and out of sight.

Darling and I headed to the summit, which had a fair view of the desert below, the city just barely visible in the distance.

I pointed at the road maybe a half-mile away, where a cloud of dark sand was billowing toward us. “That's gotta be it.” I squinted but couldn't make out any details.

“That's a lot of sand to be kicking up,” Darling said. “Makes me wonder if they've got horses. Or just a ton of guards.”

“I'm hoping it's a bunch of caravans,” I said.

“You got any idea what they've got inside?”

“Those magic scrolls, hopefully,” I said. “One-use items people without magical abilities can use to cast fireballs and so on. Swiping 'em would be a big swing. Get some powerful items to use while denying them to our enemies.”

“Sounds good to me,” Darling said.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence as the caravan approached, except Frank, who was muttering about something in a voice so low I couldn't understand him.

“What's your deal?” I whispered.

“Nothing,” Frank said. “I just wish you were level 8.”

The little hairs on the back of my neck rose all at once.

“Something's wrong,” I said.

I turned and ran to the other side of the dune. And sure enough, another cloud headed directly for us, approaching on the road from the opposite direction.

I dropped a quick message into the group chat, telling Rock and Nina we had enemies from the other side, meaning they both needed to run up and out of sight. The low ground wouldn't be safe with the way the road approached from the north.

I pressed myself onto the hot sand and covered my mouth, watching the cloud approach and hoping—praying—Rock and Nina could reach the top of the dune before either caravan rounded the last bend.

“C'mon, c'mon,” I said.

“What happens if they get spotted?” Darling said. At some point, she'd laid down beside me.

“No idea,” I said. “But it can't be good. We'd probably lose out on completing that bonus objective at the very least.”

Rock reached the top of the hill, and Nina slipped gracefully from his shoulder, each of them pressing themselves flat to the ground just as the approaching caravan came fully into view.

I exhaled. “That was way too close.”

“And not at all in the quest description,” Darling said.

“Yeah,” I said. “There's a lot of stuff like that.” I dropped my voice. “Thanks, Frank.”

“Huh?” Frank said, but I had the feeling he was winking.

I eyed the caravan that approached from the other direction. It was a simple, camel-driven thing, though the wheels were fat and tall, no doubt having been built to pass over the open sands. The driver was just a level 3 N.P.C with a low Health pool, but one Barbarian rode another camel in front of the vehicle, and two more flanked it to either side.

I inspected them.

{Bloodgorged Barbarian} (Level 7 Humanoid) (Elite)

H.P: 900/900

M.P: 100/100

“Not so bad,” Darling said. “We can handle three melee elites no problem.”

I shook my head. “Nothing that seems simple in this game ever turns out to be simple. And the Bloodgorged thing…that's got something to do with the Woodbone Fae. They've got a weird blood thing going on, so those mobs are magically empowered at the very least, no doubt.”

I turned and inspected the other carriage, which was horse-drawn and draped in gold and red banners. It had three guards as well, all dressed in heavy red plate, though they didn't look nearly as powerful as their counterparts.

{House Vesuvian Guard} (Level 7 Humanoid) (Veteran)

H.P: 600/600

It appeared as if the carriages were going to rendezvous just beneath us, so maybe our presence had triggered something.

“So, this is what I'm thinking,” I said. “My guess is they stop down there to trade, then they both head north.”

“Both of them?” Darling said. “The first carriage won't just turn around?”

“Sorry,” I said, “I keep forgetting you haven't spent any time in town. The short of it is that the first caravan belongs to a powerful merchant who's selling weapons to the same people who are attacking his village.

“That caravan can't just turn right around. That would be suspicious. I'd bet anything they're going to head north to Highwater City where they'll flip whatever the bandits give them for the scrolls. Then they'll buy water, sell some of that to the Barbarians on the way back, then sell the rest back to the Vale. It's pretty much a triangle system now that I think about it.”

Darling cocked an eyebrow at me. “Triangle system?”

“It's an old trading system,” I said. “Origins are pretty dark. Traders would buy sugar in the Caribbean, then ship it to the colonies and have it processed into rum. Then they'd sail to Africa, sell the rum, and use the money to buy slaves.

Sail back to the Caribbean, sell the slaves for sugar, rinse, repeat. They sprang up largely because of the winds you needed to sail back then, but there are still a lot of modern equivalents.”

“Is that all coming from your axe?” Darling said.

“Nah,” I said. “I had to study that kinda stuff for work. Trade systems, empires, histories, all of that.”

“For the record,” Frank said, “Ned isn't quite as dumb as he looks. It's close, but yeah.”

“Thanks Frank,” I said. “Or maybe not? I'm not sure how much of a compliment that really was.”

“I'd say 40%,” Frank said.

“Still, that's progress,” I said.

The carriages both rumbled around their respective curves, and the drivers made identical gestures, flashing each other a V with their pinky and index fingers extended. All six of the guards moved and opened the doors of their respective carriages and went about ferrying the goods back and forth.

The merchant guards made quick work of their payload, transferring only a pair of wooden crates between the caravans, neither of which looked very heavy. That seemed promising; scrolls wouldn't weigh very much, nor would they take up a lot of space.

The Barbarians took nearly twice as long to finish their work, though each of their three guards had a little trouble hefting huge crates from carriage to carriage. Despite the Barbarians' strength, it was obvious that their goods were far heavier, which made me wonder what exactly they were offloading.

The trading was completed with obvious familiarity, the entirety of the transaction wrapping up within a couple of minutes as we looked down from above.

Both sets of guards secured their respective vehicles, and though the Barbarian carriage had to turn around, the merchant carriage carried on right behind them just as I'd predicted.

I turned to Rock and Nina, who were on their bellies beside us. “You two want to see if you can get ahead of those caravans? And try to stay ahead?”

“We're going for the bonus then?” Darling said.

“I think we might as well,” I said. “In any case, we can't hit both caravans at once. Gonna have to wait until they split up at the very least, otherwise the guards will be too much.”

“Fair enough,” Darling said. She nodded at her guildies. “Good?”

“Yup,” Nina said as she and Rock rose and ran down the backside of the dune.

Darling and I let the caravans round the far bend and pass out of view, then dropped onto the road and tailed them.

Chapter Thirty-One

By the time the caravans finally split, night had fallen once again, and their progress was marked only by two lines of torches diverging in the dark, the merchants heading north while the Barbarians rumbled off the road and headed northeast.

The air was surprisingly cool, especially with all the sweat I'd worked up from running through the sand.

“You got any crowd control?” I said to Darling.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I've got a root and a fear. I'm thinking we jump those two guards from behind when the time comes. I'm wondering how we could manage that without drawing the attention of the third. My fear could work.”

“Nina's got a sleeping poison,” Darling said. “She's gotta get into melee range to use it, but I don't have any doubt she could pull that off.”

“Alright,” I said. “So, maybe we just have her knock that lead guard out of commission, I'll fear a second, and we can all burn the third?”

“Sounds good,” Darling said. “Rock could probably pass for an offtank in a pinch; he doesn't do a lot of damage, but he's got some pretty good sustain. Most of his abilities steal Health, and if these guys are melee, his armor should help.”

We ran for another five minutes or so, the wind pleasantly cool against my skin, the torches oddly pretty as they bobbed between the dark hills beyond.

There was a chime as my Quest Log updated. Nina and Rock were still up ahead, and they'd successfully found the Barbarian stronghold.

“Nina's heading back our way now,” Darling said. “She said there's a rock formation up ahead with a bunch of guards camped around it. Maybe they're underground.”

“That would make sense,” I said. “Not sure how else they could have evaded the guards.”

“Alright, Nina's ready, and Rock is skirting back toward us from the other direction. You ready?”

I bit my lip. “I don't know. This doesn't feel right to me.”

“What's that?” Darling said.

“Three elites?” I said. “All of the same type? If it was you, me, and a healer—or even someone with offheal potential—this seems like it'd be pretty trivial. Maybe they've got a deceptively powerful skillset or something like that, but I dunno. Seems off. When I hear five-man quest, I think something on the difficulty level of a dungeon, that sort of thing.”

“Maybe,” Darling said. “Can't we just ask the axe?”

“You can axe me anything, anytime,” Frank said, his voice low.

“Oh, God,” I said. “That was terrible, Frank. Even by your standards.”

“So what's their skillset?” Darling said.

“Terribly sorry,” Frank said, “but I can't comment on that sort of thing.”

“What?” Darling said. “What do you mean you can't comment on it?”

“That's his main restriction,” I said. “He can't give quest information for anything I'm currently working on, unless I'm seriously over-leveled for the content.”

“Damn,” Darling said.

“Truly sorry,” Frank said. “So sorry.”

“Seriously?” I said. “You have literally never apologized to me. About anything. And she gets three on her first ask?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I like Darling, 'cause she knows how to swing an axe. And she actively looks forward to skull splitting. You, on the other hand, are a pacifistic clown.”

Darling laughed at that, but cut off as I shot her a dirty look. She smirked and looked away.

“Unbelievable,” I said. “Or totally believable, really.”

“Rock's in position,” Darling said.

“Alright,” I said. “I'm throwing a Bombshot on. You might wanna do the same.” I pulled one of the items out of my inventory and used it, double-checking to make sure I had the buff before I targeted the nearest Barbarian.

A markup option appeared that I hadn't seen before, probably owing to the fact that I hadn't done much grouping: if I wanted to, I could assign each mob a symbol that the group would be able to see and use to differentiate targets.

I assigned our first burn target with a red flame, then set a black skull over the target I intended on fearing. I set Nina's target up with a blue square and relayed all of that info into the chat.

I crept into spell range, keeping as high up the dune as I could, watching as Darling crept even lower. She gave me a thumbs up when she was still twenty yards or so away.

I fired off a Dreadful Shot on the skull target and sent him screaming off into the sand, then followed it up by rooting the burn target.

Nina dropped a message into the party chat saying that she'd successfully slept her mob. I strafed backward, blasting the burn target, and drawing it away from the caravan and toward the now approaching Darling.

Rock rumbled down from a nearby dune, moving with an incredible amount of momentum, streaks of red light streaming off his fists as he pumped his arms with every stride he took.

Darling cocked back and threw her new axe at the burn target, a chain appearing out of thin air and trailing behind it. The axe buried itself in the mob's sternum, and Darling leaped a second later, then gave the chain she'd created a sharp yank, which sent her flying through the air directly at the target.

She led with her foot, the resulting kick sending the mob flying backward across the sands and notching 10% off its Health.

She pulled on the chain, and her weapon flew back into her hand. My second Ravenblast hit home, and a third was on its way by the time the mob regained its feet.

Rock speared the mob from behind, a shoulder tackle that drove it right back into the ground and dropped it beneath 80%.

Darling piled onto it from there and Nina arrived in a flash of blue color, their combined attacks dropping the mob all the way down to 20% in a matter of seconds.

I finished it off with a pair of Dark Harvests, a sinking sensation settling in the pit of my stomach.

“This is cake,” Nina said. “I bet I could solo one of these things.”

Movement caught my eye. I could have sworn the carriage had rocked. “There's something in the caravan!” I said. “Burn the other two down, now! Before whatever it is shows up!”

I swapped the red flame mark onto the nearest Barbarian but by then Darling was already airborne, and Nina had somehow managed to get behind it.

Rock was a few feet away, a red aura forming around his right fist as he rumbled toward the target.

Nina struck first, jabbing a dagger into the still-feared Barbarian and replacing my fear with a three-second stun effect. Darling connected with her axe before she hit the ground, the blade cleaving into the mob's shoulder.

I chipped in a Ravenblast just as Rock arrived and threw a vicious haymaker, red light trailing behind his massive fist.

All of that damage quickly combined to drop the mob into harvest range, though the spell was still on cooldown, and Darling finished the mob off with a brutal two-handed strike regardless. She apparently had an execute-style ability of her own.

I dashed by the three of them, Shadedrifting beneath the carriage and starting up a Ravenblast on the remaining guard, who was sleeping right there in the road.

Darling's axe arced down from above, its chain rattling through the air, the blade thunking into its target. I let my Ravenblast go as she vaulted over the carriage and came in for another leveling kick.

Once again, the fight was over before it had even started. We all shared a glance, every one of us grinning.

“Perfect,” Darling said. “That was dead-on perfect.”

“Nice to have ranged support for a change,” Nina said. “What was that shadowy slide thing? I want that. Ned? Hello?”

I heard her, but I wasn't really listening. “You guys can't hear that?”

“Hear what?” Darling said. She cocked an ear toward the carriage. “Is that…”

“Laughter,” I said.

The back door of the carriage exploded outward, the entire panel ripping off its hinges and tumbling across the sand.

A tall figure dressed in a long black robe stepped out from within the carriage. A figure I recognized, though his once-gray skin was now covered in blood red runes.

{Bloodgorged Shade Screamer} (Level 8 Woodbone Fae) (Elite)

H.P: 1,500/1,500

Mana: 1,200/1,200

It was the same Fae who had tried to ambush me shortly after I arrived in the Sands, while I'd been working on those quests over by the fishing village.

But the last time we'd met, he'd only been level 7, and he definitely hadn't been an elite.

“Hello, traitor,” the Screamer said. “Did you enjoy playing with my entourage?”

“What is this?” Darling said.

“I'm afraid Blood Alchemy is proving tricky when it comes to altering the Barbarians,” he said. “They're physically strong, but they're too stupid for anything more than grunt work. But we're making progress. And, ironically, we owe that to you.”

He reached into his robe and produced a vial full of red liquid. “If you hadn't betrayed us, if you hadn't forsaken our tree to die, we would have simply gone along as we always had, feeding off the Fair Folk as we pleased.” He unstoppered the vial and downed its contents in one gulp, then grinned around at us with a mouth full of reddened teeth.

“But now…now we must look inward. Our numbers are shrinking, yes. But the blood, our own blood.” His eyes bled red, two rubies set in dark sockets. “It is a wondrous thing.” He cocked his head at me, a laugh that was much too deep for his frame rising from low in his throat.

The Screamer convulsed and dropped to all fours, his long fingers digging into the sand.

Nina and Rock stepped up beside us.

“The last time I saw this guy he was a pure caster,” I said. “Shadow magic and some kind of stealth ability.”

“What's the deal with the vial?” Nina said.

“Pretty sure that was blood,” I said. “The Woodbone used to drink this other race, but I kinda uh…stopped that, so now they want me dead, and I guess they're drinking each other. And apparently the results are not great for us.”

“A lot of people seem to want you dead,” Darling said.

“True,” I said.

The Screamer twitched, his right arm swelling, the muscles bulging so quickly that the sleeve of his robe burst apart, the strips of cloth hanging loosely against his hip. The rest of his body grew in similar fashion, casting off his robe to reveal blood red skin capped with black, bony sections that looked a lot like armor.

The creature rose to its full height once the transformation had finished, having more than doubled in size, standing about fifteen feet tall with broad shoulders, its frame packed with red muscle.

{Blood Fae Ascendant} (Level 8 Blood Fae) (Elite+)

H.P: 5,500/5,500

M.P: 2,000/2,000

“Guess you were right about the boss thing,” Darling said as she shifted her axe from one shoulder to the other.

“Of all the times to be right,” I said. “Looks more like a dungeon boss than a mob. My guess is that it'll be pretty resistant to crowd control, if not immune.”

“Keep the quest description in mind,” Frank said.

I pulled it back up. “We probably only have one shot at this. If we fail, the caravan will probably reach the stronghold before we can respawn and try again.”

“Bingo,” Frank said.

“Any suggestions, Axe?” Darling said.

“Make it dead before it has a chance to kill you,” Frank said.

“I like the way you think,” Darling said.

“I adore you,” Frank whispered.

“What was that?” Darling said.

“Nothing.” I pointed my gun at the Ascendant and started up a Ravenblast. “I'll kite it for as long as I can. My main shadow spell generates extra threat, so that should help a bit.” The thing was staring straight at me, its red eyes unblinking. “Pretty sure it wants me dead regardless. If that doesn't work, Rock can step in and grab aggro.”

The Ascendant dropped to all fours and blitzed forward, a reddish glow intensifying around its body. I fired off my Ravenblast then followed with a Fettering Shot but was unsurprised when a single word floated up above the creature's head: Immune.

I turned and ran up the nearest dune, charging up another blast but already ceding ground. If anything, the Ascendant's pace was still increasing, its movements becoming impossibly frenetic as the red glow continued to intensify.

The other three members of the group split and gave the mob a large berth as it passed. Rock and Nina both got a few attacks in as it ran by them, but only Darling had the mobility required to stick in melee range as the creature charged me, linking leaps and chain-grabs to repeatedly close the gap.

I sent another Ravenblast the creature's way, this time with a Dreadful Shot flying in the raven's wake. It had no effect on the elite, but I hadn't expected it to; I just needed to know for sure.

“My crowd control's useless,” I said, shouting to the group.

“Poison isn't slowing it down either,” Nina called back.

Darling answered with a powerful blow to one of the creature's hind legs, the first attack to result in a debuff.

{Crippling Blow}

Movement speed reduced by 25% for 10 seconds.

“Got it!” Darling said. “The debuff's weaker than usual, but I can slow it—” She cut off as the monster lashed out with its other hind leg and kicked her square in the chest.

The attack sent her skipping across the sand like a stone over water, huge clouds erupting with every impact. The blow had knocked nearly half of her Health off, and though Darling's leather armor offered a similar protection level to mine, she almost certainly had far, far more Health than I did.

Which did not bode well for my chances of surviving a similar strike.

“Target Health at 96%,” Frank said.

The creature roared, and its red aura shimmered, then darkened and contracted. The Ascendant blasted forward, flying at me across the sands at unmatchable speed. I juked right, then ran left, eyes widening as I realized the creature hadn't fallen for my fake-out in the slightest.

I fired off another blast, then turned my back on the creature, heart pounding as it blurred toward me. I activated Shadedrift at the last possible moment, my body dispersing into a shadow just as the Ascendant crashed through the space I'd occupied only a split second earlier.

Its attack still connected, but I'd generated an immune message of my own, meaning that I'd avoided some kind of crowd control attempt on the Ascendant's part.

I let the drift run its full range and strafed away as I popped back into place, my gun leveled at the creature's back. It was hunched over as if in pain, its head bowed low.

{Blood Exhaustion}

Unable to move or attack for 5 seconds. All damage taken is increased by 50%.

“Burn it!” I said, though Darling was already bounding toward the creature's position, and Rock and Nina were both a few feet away from laying into it.

Rock's fists were aglow with red light as he sent a flurry of punches the creature's way, and Nina stabbed and slashed at its back, applying what seemed to be a stacking poison effect.

I glanced at the debuff as I sent yet another blast at the creature, one that actually duplicated.

{Compounding Toxin}

Deals 20 Poison Damage per stack over 10 seconds. Max stacks 10. Each stack increases all Poison Damage taken by 2%. Once 10 stacks are reached, all subsequent poison applications will refresh the stacks.

That made me feel a bit better about our odds; if Nina's damage took a while to ramp up, we were in better shape than it seemed. And tiny explosions were covering the creature's back as my Soulshots kicked in, proccing repeatedly under the force of our attacks.

Darling caught up to the creature and laid into it, launching a trio of attacks that actually moved the creature's Health bar a noticeable amount.

“Target Health at 92% and falling,” Frank said.

I cursed under my breath. We were only 8% in and I'd already used the only defensive cooldown I had. “My Shadedrift's down,” I said, right as the mob stood up, spun, and went right back to chasing me. “That charge attack it used has some kind of stun or knock up attached. I dodged it, but it might be nasty.”

“Rock has a taunt!” Nina said.

“Yeah,” I called back. I kept strafing away, peppering the creature with blast after blast as I kited it around in a wide circle. But judging by the creature's pace and the twenty or so seconds still remaining on Shadedrift, I wasn't going to be able to avoid its next charge. “Get some distance and taunt it off me once it launches that attack,” I said.

I was hoping the charge ability the creature had used had a set range, or that if Rock was far enough away, the Blood Exhaustion drawback would fizzle it.

The Ascendant burst forward again, its skin glowing with power. Rock's silent taunt connected while the creature was only five feet away from me, and though it swerved away and zoomed off in the other direction, it was a close enough miss that the wind its attack created ruffled my hair and blew sand into my face.

I kept blasting as the Ascendant blurred toward Rock, who was trying to outdistance the ability by running away. Which was very obviously not working.

“Incoming!” Darling called out.

An aura of shadowy energy surrounded Rock just as the Ascendant reached him. The creature snapped Rock up as if he weighed nothing at all and raised him high into the air, grasping him about his midsection.

The Ascendant opened its mouth and inhaled deeply, causing red runes to crawl across Rock's skin.

Darling and Nina closed the gap and attacked the huge creature with everything they had, and I did the same from a little ways off, but it wouldn't let go of Rock.

Rock threw a wild punch that caught the creature upside the temple, and though its head rocked sideways from the impact, it didn't show any signs of releasing its grip.

The runes brightened, then flew across Rock's skin, forming narrow lines of power that jumped from his body and were drawn away into the Ascendant's gaping mouth.

Rock's Health bar plummeted from full to 90%, to 80%, to 70%, to 60%, while the Ascendant's Health replenished all the way back to full. It tossed Rock aside like a ragdoll, sending him rolling across the sand.

The Ascendant roared and thumped its chest, a new buff appearing on its nameplate.

{Bloodburn I}

All damage dealt increased by 50%. All damage taken increased by 100%. This effect may stack up to 3 times.

It raised one of its huge feet high above the ground, and though Nina, Darling, and I were all quick enough to jump—having seen similar effects in the past—Rock was still trying to get his feet underneath him.

The creature stomped, and a blast of red energy surged out at ground level, a rolling shockwave of power that threw Rock to the ground and dropped his Health into the single digits.

The Ascendant whirled about, lashing out with a horizontal, backhand strike that caught both Nina and Darling in midair. The blow knocked 20% off Darling's Health and dropped Nina to 65%, but more importantly it sent them both flying well out of melee range.

The creature splayed its fingers and grinned around at us, its face full of mockery. “Is that it?” the Ascendant growled. “Is that all you're capable of?”

A red rune formed beneath my feet, and I jumped away from it on instinct. But the same runes rapidly formed in a wide circle around the creature, encompassing all four of us. I tried to jump back over it and get out of the enclosed space, but I struck an invisible wall and was thrown back.

A dome of wine-colored light formed around us, with the Ascendant at the center. Rock was kneeling at the opposite edge, struggling to rise, while both Nina and Darling looked hesitant to engage.

I eyed the creature's Health, which was now ticking away at a steady rate. Nina had managed to max her poison debuffs, and with the creature taking 100% increased damage, the DoTs were hitting hard.

I pushed myself back to my feet and stalked toward the Ascendant. “We're trapped,” I said as the dome shimmered around us. The Ascendant seemed to be waiting for us to engage, so maybe we were entering a second phase of the fight? Or maybe the real fight was just beginning.

“We could use a plan right about now,” Darling said. “Or maybe more importantly, a healer.”

“How long's the cooldown on Rock's taunt?” I said.

“Ten seconds,” Nina said. “It should be back up by now.”

Rock nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Sorry, Rock,” I said. “But I need you to taunt that charge again.”

“What?” Nina said. “That'll kill him!”

“I know it will,” I said. “We've got one chance to kill this thing, and that's not going to happen without stacking that debuff up again. None of us is going to live through that charge, so it might as well be the one of us who's on the verge of dying anyway.”

Rock glanced at Nina, then nodded at me.

“We save our cooldowns and burn the hell out of it after Rock's down,” I said. “If I can keep aggro, I should be able to dodge the charge after that to buy us a bit more time. I think—”

The Ascendant hunched down, its leg muscles flexing, then bounded forward in my direction. My back was pressed nearly to the wall, and I still had five seconds left on Shadedrift.

I looked to Rock, my pulse pounding in my ears. There was nowhere to run. I'd just have to trust him to follow through. And if I died, and if Frank dropped? I—

The Ascendant swerved away from me and raced toward Rock, all the way on the opposite side of the dome. I squeezed in two Ravenblasts, both catching the creature in the back for 150 and 170, but then it reached Rock and hoisted him high up into the air.

Rock's Health redlined, then emptied entirely. The creature tossed his limp body back over its shoulder and roared, the dome pulsing around us, its hue darkening from wine to black.

I checked the debuff, and sure enough, it'd progressed to Bloodburn 2, which meant the creature was now dealing 100% increased damage while taking 200% more.

I sent a Ravenblast racing across the entirety of the dome, chunking the creature for 230 damage, which represented nearly 5% of the mob's Health. “We can do this!” I said as I threw out another bolt. “I've got my defensive back up!”

The Ascendant dropped to all fours and rumbled toward me, so I skirted the side of the dome, thinking of the way I'd bounced off it. Nina and Darling both fell in behind the creature, and though Nina still lacked the mobility to stick within melee range, she managed to refresh her DoT a few seconds before the stacks would have expired by adding another icon to the Ascendant's bar.

{Blistering Toxin}

Causes 60 poison damage over 10 seconds and prevents all poison effects from being Cleansed. Requires 10 stacks of {Compounding Toxin} to apply.

Between those two DoTs and the creature's weakness debuff, Nina dealt nearly 100 damage per second, and each of Darling's strikes were causing noticeable dips in the Ascendant's Health.

“Target Health at 80%,” Frank said. “Getting there!”

I nodded and fired off another blast, strafing away as best as I could. Darling used her Crippling Blow ability just before the creature reached me, allowing me to put a small bit of distance between it and me.

I kited it around the dome and back toward Nina as Darling continued to slash away at it, watching the creature's Health dip below 50%.

Then Nina activated some kind of poison skill, a green supernova exploding around the creature. The damage was massive—dropping it all the way to 35%—but at the same time, I felt the creature's attention slide away from me.

I panicked and tried to activate harvest to get the aggro back, but it was too late: the creature's skin turned red as it whirled on Nina and hoisted her into the air before she even had a chance to react.

I threw a Ravenblast at the creature, and Darling flashed another trio of strikes into its back. I'd seen her use an execute-style ability before, and given that I could use mine twice, it seemed like all we really had to do was drop the Ascendant low enough and those skills would do the work.

But before the creature ticked that low, its Health bar began to replenish, substantially outpacing our damage.

Nina threw one last attack the creature's way and managed to refresh her stacks, but then her Health bar grayed out, and she went limp there in its grasp. The Ascendant laughed and threw Nina directly at me.

I dodged to the right, and her body sailed past me, rebounding off the dome and coming to rest a few feet away.

“Target at 60%,” Frank said.

“We just need to get it down to execute range!” I said, drawing a nod from Darling. She'd leaped away as the Ascendant had reached Nina, no doubt trying to avoid the backhand the creature had caught her with after killing Rock.

I expected the creature to leap my way at once, but it wavered on its feet a moment, looking slightly drunk. It made fists with both hands, then slammed them into the ground repeatedly.

Dark shapes rose out of the bodies of the Barbarians we'd killed, shades with claw-like hands and wispy bodies. I eyed Nina's and Rock's fallen forms and was unsurprised to see two more ghosts rising up from them as well.

All five of the ghosts swarmed at Darling, and though I fired off a root and a fear effect, both of my spells passed harmlessly through the shades' bodies.

“Can't target them!” I said. I swapped back to the Ascendant and blasted away; dealing with the ghosts was going to have to be Darling's problem for as long as they were on her.

The Ascendant rose to its full height and zeroed in on me, resuming the chase.

I kited it across the dome, firing off shots as quickly as I was able, the blasts now ripping into it for massive chunks of damage now that the boss' Bloodburn ability had stacked three times.

Darling was running alongside me a little ways off, struggling to outpace the ghosts trailing behind her.

I changed it up and kited the mob toward her, angling it so that she'd be able to hit it with a passing blow as we crossed paths.

She did better than I'd hoped, managing a melee strike plus a Crippling Blow, giving me the breathing room I'd badly needed. At the same time, though, the ghosts had nearly caught her, all five of them drifting only a few feet behind.

Nina's massive DoTs were still ticking, and between that and my constant blasting, we quickly brought the creature below 35%.

“Execute range?” I called out as I kited the mob back toward Darling.

“30%!” Darling said. The lead ghost caught her then, her Health plummeting all the way down to 25%.

The Ascendant activated its charge attack then, which was exactly what I'd been hoping for. “To me!” I shouted as I baited the mob toward Darling. “Save your execute for my mark!”

I let the creature charge me for as long as I dared—every second taking Darling a few steps closer to melee range—then I activated Shadedrift, forming into a shadow and flying right back under the mob's feet.

I got another immune message that confirmed I'd successfully fizzled the creature's charge, then it hung its head, the Blood Exhaustion debuff increasing the damage it took by yet another 50% for five seconds on top of the 300% increase from Bloodburn.

My next Ravenblast dropped the creature to within Darling's range. She leaped forward, the four remaining ghosts close behind her, the axe I'd given her glowing red between her hands.

Her execute dropped the Ascendant's Health all the way down to 10%, so I planted my feet and activated Dark Harvest, causing three of my own ghosts to fly forward and swarm the target, exploding around it for 470 damage.

The ability reset, and I immediately followed up with a second attack, a crit for over 900 damage.

Darling hit the ground on her feet, the four remaining ghosts dissolving harmlessly around her.

The Ascendant wavered there for a long moment, then toppled backward, its huge body smashing into the sand.

You defeated {Blood Fae Ascendant}!

You gained 600 Experience!

You gained 40 Renown!

Quest Complete: Two for the Price of None!

Return to the captain to claim your reward!

I dropped onto my haunches, not quite able to believe we'd actually pulled it off. Darling knelt in the sand just a few feet from the toppled creature, its body buzzing with purple sparks.

She was quicker to her feet than I was. “That,” she said, “was way, way too close.”

“Also amazing,” I said. “Right Frank? Wasn't that amazing?”

“Darling?” Frank said, sounding more than a little concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Uh huh?” Darling said without taking her eyes off the glowing mob.

“I was wondering if your back hurts? Seems like it ought to be killing you right now.”

“What?” Darling said. “Why?”

“From carrying Ned's heavy ass,” Frank said.

Darling laughed, covering her mouth as I glared at her.

“Don't encourage him,” I said. I looked around, scanning for Rock and Nina, but they hadn't respawned just yet. I headed over to the carriage and poked my head through the space where its door used to be.

The interior was plush, with velvet seats and wood-paneled walls, but all I had eyes for were the two crates sitting on the floor between the seats, each of them glowing gold. I looted them, hoping to get a look at their contents, but both of the crates popped straight into my inventory, and there didn't seem to be a way to examine them or get anything out. Probably had to take them to the captain first.

Rock and Nina popped back into the world standing right next to each other, not far off from their now dissolving bodies.

“Well, that was easy,” Nina said, skipping over. Her blue sundress was spotted with blood, which she seemed not at all concerned with.

“Easy?” Darling said. “What world are you living in?”

“We four-manned it without wiping,” Nina said. “Like I said, easy.”

Rock stared down at her and shook his head.

“What?” Nina said.

“Let's get this thing looted,” Darling said. She glanced to me. “You mind if I do the honors?”

“Go for it,” I said.

Darling knelt beside the body. “Oh, man, Rock,” she said. “Looks like your sacrifice is already being rewarded. Gonna link this thing so everybody else can get a look.”

{Scaleslasher Spikes} (Knuckles)

Grade: E

Item Level: 17

Damage Type: Magical

Quality: Rare

Physical Attack: 20

Magical Attack: 13

Speed: Very Fast

Primaries: +4 Dexterity, +3 Constitution

Effect: Your melee attacks and abilities have a chance to inflict a Bleed effect, causing 40 physical damage over 5 seconds.

Darling frowned. “Why didn't that work?”

“Didn't what work?” I said.

“I tried to send Rock the item but nothing happened,” Darling said.

I knelt down beside the body, thinking maybe the party lead had to do it, but got the same result. A message that said the transfer had failed.

“Rock doesn't want them,” Nina said. “He refused the item, that's why it failed.”

I glanced between her and Rock, trying to figure out how they were communicating. A lot of it was probably nonverbal, but that last thought was so specific I had to assume they were probably chatting privately on top of everything else.

“Why the hell not?” Darling said.

“'Cause he died without doing anything,” Nina said, shrugging.

“Without doing anything?” Darling said. “In what world did he not do anything?'

“That's what I said,” Nina said. “He just keeps repeating that gear should be earned.”

“Is this about loot points?” Darling said. “We haven't set up the guild loot system yet. This is a free roll.”

I kind of understood where Rock was coming from, given he'd been dead for most of the fight, but he'd been far from useless.

“If Rock hadn't sacrificed himself without hesitating,” I said, “I'd have dropped halfway through the fight. That taunt saved me. And without me around to kite that thing, we would have failed that quest.”

I looked to Rock. “This is the same sorta thing with that Epic axe I gave Darling. We've got a Raid Quest to deal with tomorrow. I need you to be as well-equipped as possible. If you don't feel like you did enough damage to earn those knuckles, turning down a weapon that would increase your damage potential is a pretty self-sabotaging way to make amends.”

I sent the item his way again, and the transaction went through. Rock gave me a solemn nod but didn't equip the knuckles.

A private message from Nina came through then: Thanks.

I sent her a quick reply saying I was happy to help.

“Should probably head back and turn that in,” Darling said. “We've got a party to attend.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Probably best to see what else the captain has in store for…” I trailed off. “Party?”

“Yup!” Darling said. “People should be reaching the Sands at any moment now. And it's guild policy. Whenever we join a new game, everybody meets up as soon as possible. Then we get absolutely blasted.”

“Like, deliriously smashed,” Nina said. “And this time we actually get to do it in-game! With smell and taste and everything.”

I glanced at Rock, who didn't look nearly as excited as the other two, which made me feel a little better about the fact I was already dreading the night to come.

“You guys haven't ever drank in game?” I said.

“Well, we have in other games,” Darling said, “but alcohol's supposed to be realistic in this world, right? More than just blurred vision and so on?”

“Yeah, it's very realistic,” I said. “Maybe a bit too realistic if you ask me.”

“In the past,” Darling said, “drinking together usually just meant sipping something at your desk with your headset on or whatever while chatting in-game. But now that we're here…it's gonna be the real deal. It's gonna feel like we're all actually together for once.”

“Just absolutely obliterated,” Nina said, like she hadn't been listening to any part of what Darling had just said.

“Anyway,” Darling said, “let's head back. I wanna get things set up before everybody arrives.” She leveled a finger at me. “You should really be there too.”

“Me?”

“You're the man of the hour,” Darling said. “Or of the last two days, I guess. Everybody's excited to meet you.”

I forced a smile. The idea of meeting almost forty people for the first time all in the same night…that was not my idea of a good time. So much so that my palms were already sweating at the thought.

But at the same time, I'd have to meet everyone eventually. And maybe getting all the introductions over with in the same night was the way to go. “Sounds good,” I said. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“So, where should we set up for the night?” Darling said as we crested a dune and the Vale came into view, perched atop the dunes like a torchlit castle. Rock and Nina trailed behind us, with Nina once again riding on Rock's left shoulder.

I hesitated. I hadn't really thought about the logistics of everyone needing a place to crash, but it seemed like the sort of thing I could turn to my advantage.

The quest had taken quite a while counting all the travel time, and I'd received an alert that the inn had completed on the hike back to the Vale, so I already knew that was an option, but I didn't have any idea of how practical it would be. And thankfully, it'd just been a personal alert rather than a world-wide one.

I sent a message to House asking her about what we had to work with, and she replied that the inn was open for business and that Lars had returned.

I also asked her to have Lars pretend to be the innkeeper for tonight, but instructed House to just be herself because any kind of deception on her part seemed like it would be asking way, way too much.

“There's a new inn on the east side of town,” I said. “We could probably check it out. With the fire this morning, I'm betting that a lot of the older ones will be full up.”

Bringing everybody to the inn straight away was maybe a bit risky but hosting the guild there right away would go a long way toward establishing the inn as part of the city's infrastructure.

“Works for me,” Darling said.

We headed into the city and beelined straight for the guardhouse, wanting to turn in our quest and to get a good look at those crates.

We made our way up the steps and through the heavy door and found the captain sitting alone in the war room, his haggard face bracketed by torches.

He looked up as we filtered in one at a time. “Ah,” he said, “I see you found your reinforcements. I hope you bring some good news for once.”

“Yep,” I said. I tried to access the two crates I'd found and sure enough, this time they popped right out onto the table. “Found these in the carriage. We found the Stronghold, too.” That last bit was especially nice. Not only had locating the Stronghold completed our bonus objective, it'd also finished off the Scouting the Scoundrels quest I'd gotten earlier, leaving me with a fully completed Quest Log.

You completed a quest!

You earned 300 Experience!

You earned 25 Renown!

Your reputation with {The Withered Vale} has slightly increased!

You completed a quest!

You earned 500 Experience!

You earned 100 Renown!

Your reputation with {The Withered Vale} has increased!

Those turn ins were both great, and the Renown boost for the latter of the two was far larger than I'd hoped, but I couldn't help but sigh when I glanced at my Experience bar.

Darling elbowed me. “Something wrong?”

I gave her a rueful grin. “So close to level 8.”

“Being level 5,” Darling said, “I'm having a pretty hard time sympathizing with your plight.”

“Impressive,” the captain said. “Truly impressive.” He grabbed the nearest crate and pulled it toward him across the table. “And what do we have here?” He stood, slid his sword from his scabbard, jammed the blade beneath the lid, then levered the top free with a sharp pop.

He peered inside, a grin spreading across his face. “Would you look at that,” he said as he lifted a loosely rolled paper scroll from within the box. “It appears our intelligence was correct. And did it come from Vesuvian?”

“It did,” I said. “His carriage rolled out a couple miles north, then met up with a Barbarian caravan. They did some trading then headed north together—probably for protection on Vesuvian's part—then they split up a little later on. We hit the Barbarians once they'd traded their goods, so as far as Vesuvian knows, everything is business as usual.”

“An artful move,” the captain said. “Now, let's see what he was dealing.”

There were two items in all, so I examined them both.

{Scroll of Magical Nullifaction}

Quality: Uncommon

Use: Casts {Nullify Magic} on a target of your choice within 40 yards. This effect is powerful enough to remove abilities that normally wouldn't be dispellable.

Charges: 1

{Scroll of Necrosis}

Quality: Uncommon

Use: Casts {Necrosis} on a target of your choice, absorbing all healing the target receives over 5 seconds and dealing that amount in damage as {Necrosis} expires or is dispelled.

Charges: 1

“Those two scrolls alone were worth the trouble,” Darling said.

“For sure,” I said.

The captain cracked the second crate in the same manner, frowning at its contents before the rest of us could get a look.

He backed away and we peered inside. I glanced around at my companions, but judging from the looks on their faces, nobody else had any idea what we'd picked up.

The inside of the crate had been packed with a soft, fibrous material I didn't recognize, though I figured it had something to do with protecting the parcel's payload. A long black tube rested atop the fiber, every inch of it covered in golden runes.

The captain reached in as if to retrieve it, but the runes brightened and turned an angry shade of red as he drew close, and he jerked his hand back. “Well then. Whatever it is, it's enchanted.”

“Could be a case for another scroll,” I said. “Looks to be about the right size and shape.”

The captain nodded. “True. And if that's the case, it's likely to be far more powerful than the rest.”

It seemed to me like this was our reward for completing that bonus objective by finding the Stronghold, some kind of quest that would eventually lead to us acquiring a powerful scroll. The only question was how many hoops we'd have to jump through to get the damn thing out of its case.

“I've seen runes like these before as well,” the captain continued. “It's a Destruction spell, one that would no doubt harm whoever tried to open the tube. But more importantly, the spell would also destroy the contents. I wonder—”

“If that's true, then there's gotta be somebody out there who can break the spell,” Darling said.

“Oh, surely,” the captain said, “but not within these walls.” He rubbed his chin. “I've some birds to send. Come see me first thing in the morning. I may have a friend who owes me a favor.”

I waited for a quest to come in, but nothing followed. “Will do,” I said.

The captain stood and gave everyone a weary smile. “Afraid it's going to be a long night on my end. I suggest the lot of you get some sleep in the meantime.” He gestured at the scrolls he'd set across the table. “Take however many scrolls you think will be of use. If tomorrow goes the way I think it will, I imagine you'll need as much help as you can get.” He crossed the room, murmuring to himself under his breath as he slipped away down a dark hall.

“Might as well grab all of these,” I said. “Never know what'll be useful.” I scooped the scrolls up.

“No quest, huh?” Darling said.

“Not yet,” I said. “Guess it's got a bit of a load time. C'mon, let's head back to the inn.” I led the way out the guardhouse and through the street, my pulse picking up as we neared my plots.

I sighed with relief as we arrived. The inn looked fantastic. It wasn't ornate or particularly impressive—just a two-story white building set between two similar structures—but I appreciated how well it blended in with its surroundings.

I'd been a little worried it would stand out as a player structure, with brighter colors or decorations or so on, but this? This would work.

And better yet, the inn had perfectly sealed off the rest of our plots, entirely blocking off the courtyard behind it.

My face warmed as that little realization dawned on me, and I sent House a quick message mid-panic asking if she'd been able to find a back door or something like that, and thankfully she responded in the affirmative.

Plus she'd already locked that door and set the permission so that only she and I would be able to pass through it, which seemed a remarkable piece of foresight on House's end.

Darling squinted at the building. “Doesn't have a name, huh?”

I followed her gaze, finding an empty placard where a sign should have been. “Guess not.” One fewer point for House's foresight, then. But at least I'd already mentioned that the inn was new.

Darling shrugged and headed in a few steps in front of me. She tried the front door, but it didn't budge. “I don't think this one's open yet,” she said.

Then the door swung open and Lars appeared in the entryway, a perfectly bland look plastered across his face. He eyed the four of us and stepped aside, holding the door open.

“Welcome,” he said. “Apologies for the door, we're just opening up for the first time. Please, take a seat wherever you'd like, and I'll be with you shortly.”

“Thanks,” Darling said as she disappeared inside the building. I followed close behind her, curious to see what my silver had bought.

The common room was simple but comfortable, with a long bar on one side of the room and oak tables clustered throughout the rest of the space. There was a small, raised stage in one of the corners, and a wooden stairwell led up to the second floor in another.

House waved from the bar.

“That's your friend from earlier, yeah?” Darling said.

“Yeah, House,” I said. “Asked her to meet us here.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

“What?” I said.

“You had a fifth person all along, then. For the quest?”

My face heated. “Oh, yeah. Not really.” I cleared my throat, trying to buy a moment to think. “She's not a fan of the combat here. Too realistic. She's been trying to figure out professions and so on.”

“Huh,” Darling said. “I don't get it personally, but I guess I can see it.” She headed right over and shook House's hand, and though House looked a little stiff, the interaction looked pretty normal from a distance.

I really wanted to go check the rooms out—and to use the Innkeeper's Memento—but I couldn't risk doing anything unusual with everybody around.

Rock and Nina introduced themselves to House and sat beside her, while Lars stepped up beside me.

“Nice,” I said. “You're a natural.”

Lars shrugged.

“You alright playing along with this?” I said. “I know it's kind of a weird thing to ask, but I didn't have much time to come up with a plan.”

He cracked a smile. “You know, I really am. It's a little jarring, but I like it here.” He gazed around the mostly empty room, some of the fatigue melting from his still-bruised face. “Feels a little bit like home. Can't quite put my finger on it, but I do feel better.”

I looked around, seeing the inn with new eyes. It wasn't as worn as the inn where I'd met Lars—nor had it had enough time to start smelling like stale beer—but the building was eerily similar. Even the stage where I'd first spotted Lars looked familiar.

“Yeah, I can see that,” I said. “Even has a place for you to play if you're up for it.”

He shrugged and made for the bar. “I'm good on that. Just happy to be feeling a bit more like myself again.”

I followed him over to where the others were seated.

“I need a beer,” Nina said. “Something dark.”

“No beer, unfortunately,” Lars said.

I took a seat beside House, with an empty spot to my left. “No beer?” I said.

Lars shook his head.

“Wine?” Darling said. “I could go for a cold white.”

“No wine, either,” Lars said. “We don't have anything watery in stock. Too precious to brew with.”

“Ah,” Darling said. She eyed the bottles that lined the far wall, brown jugs stoppered with corks. “So, what do you have?”

Lars grabbed one of the jugs and set it on the table. “Firewater.”

Nina swiped the bottle off the table, popped the cork, and sniffed the contents. “Oof,” she said, fanning her face. “That is potent.”

“Why's it called firewater?” I said.

“Because it burns if you hold a torch to it,” Lars said.

“How much is it?” Darling said.

“Free if you're staying overnight,” Lars said. “All patrons receive as much firewater as they can drink.”

“I love it here so much,” Nina said. “This is the best place ever.”

“How much for a room?” Darling said.

Lars glanced my way, then seemed to think better of it. “Twenty-five coppers apiece.”

I blinked at him—that was five times higher than the estimated rate I'd seen earlier. So either the fire had warped prices even more than I'd realized, or Lars was driving a hard bargain. Either way, it worked for me.

Everybody dug a handful of coppers out of their inventories and slid them across the bar, so I did the same. And to Lars' credit, he swept mine up without batting an eye.

Lars set five clay jugs onto the bar. “Do keep in mind that cleaning fees apply throughout the inn. For any accidents and so on.”

Darling frowned, then turned to me. “You said you drank before, right? Can we actually vomit?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “I never got a hangover or anything like that, but my memory was pretty spotty when I woke up. And vomiting wasn't the sort of thing I was super keen on testing.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Nina said. She raised the jug to her lips and tilted it back. Her eyes bugged out, and she slammed the jug onto the table, coughing and hacking, but somehow managed to keep the stuff down. “Dear God,” she said. “That tastes like grain alcohol.” She rubbed at her throat. “Burns like grain, too. Man, I can't believe how real that feels. Too cool.”

Rock sniffed his jug, shuddered, then set it back down on the bar.

Darling took a sip, winced, then took another. “It's not so bad, really.” She looked to Lars. “What about food? You got anything going back in the kitchen?”

“Cactus soup,” Lars said.

“How is it?”

“Thick and green,” Lars said.

Darling made a displeased face. “I'll hold off for now, thanks.” She leaned forward and looked my way. “Rest of the guild's filtering in now, probably be a half hour or so before the first few arrive.”

“Great,” I said, and though I'd been aiming for enthusiasm, I'd fallen a little short. I'd just started to feel comfortable with Darling's group, and though I recognized the necessity of meeting everyone, I wasn't looking forward to it.

Darling snorted. “Great, he says, with zero enthusiasm.”

I rubbed the back of my head. “Yeah, sorry. I'm glad they're here, I'm just not great with crowds. And the idea of meeting a ton of people, all of whom already know each other really, really well…that's not my favorite dynamic.”

I swished my jug around and took a long pull, feeling the burn start in the back of my throat then work its way down into my chest. “It's fine, I've got more booze than I can drink, and I don't need to worry about feeling like garbage in the morning. I'll survive.”

“I get it,” Darling said, still speaking around House as if she weren't sitting between us. “And if it makes you feel any better, it doesn't really matter what you do or say. I don't think you understand how happy everyone is to be in-game, let alone to be actually pushing content. Plus Frank's leveling plans have been super popular. Guild chat's been nothing but positive there. You'd have to pull something really outrageous to piss them off at this point.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks. Good to get everybody's pulse.”

Frank yawned very, very loudly.

“Tired, Axe?” Darling said.

“He's just bored 'cause nobody's dying,” I said. “And because it doesn't seem like anybody's going to be dying for at least a couple hours. Also, he doesn't like not being the center of attention.”

“True on all three counts,” Frank said. “But to be fair, I frequently deserve to be the center of attention.”

“You have been pretty indispensable so far,” Darling said in that same weird, possibly sarcastic voice.

“It is good to be appreciated,” Frank said. “I hope you're taking notes, bird flinger.”

“Oh, God,” I said, “please don't start the bird stuff again.”

Darling rocked back on her stool and gave House a cheerful smile. “House, right? So where'd you two meet?”

House went entirely still, freezing from the top of her head down to her toes. If I hadn't known any better, I'd have said she was having a panic attack and trying to hide it.

Darling waited a heartbeat, then pursed her lips.

“We live in the same building,” I said, cutting in before the moment had a chance to stretch.

House exhaled. “We do in fact occupy the same physical space.”

“Nice,” Darling said. “So what are you playing?”

House cocked her head. I was about to intervene again before she had another chance to trip all over herself, but she surprised me by speaking up. “I am currently focused on the crafting side of the game,” House said, “though I haven't made any decisions as to which professions to specialize in. I find combat to be rather distasteful, though technically I am operating a character who utilizes Aura Magic.”

“Stupid magic,” Frank said. “Why does everybody have to have magic?”

I patted House's elbow beneath the bar and dropped my voice to a whisper. “That was great, House.”

She smiled brightly, but immediately tamped the expression down. Another positive sign.

“Oh, you're a crafter, huh?” Darling said. She elbowed Rock, who sat directly on her right, dwarfing the tiny stool beneath him. “You wouldn't know it from looking at him, but Rock's a profession guy too.”

Rock leaned forward and gave House a respectful nod.

She was right. I would not have guessed. But I was grateful for the knowledge because crafters were always some of the best people to know.

“Once he gets going we always have trouble pulling him out of the forge or wherever he's set up,” Darling said. She caught Lars' eye. “Anyway, any plans to get some music going in here?”

Lars shook his head. “Nope. Don't have anybody who can play on staff just yet.”

I opened my mouth to point out the fact that Lars himself could play, but snapped it shut. Wasn't my news to share.

“Karaoke?” Nina said.

“No,” Darling said.

“Oh, come on,” Nina said. “It's a tradition.”

“It's not a tradition,” Darling said. “It's just a thing you do despite being repeatedly told to stop. By everyone.”

“The best kind of tradition,” Frank said.

“Thank you!” Nina said. “Finally, someone who understands me.”

“I also love Nina,” Frank said, so quietly so that only I would hear him. “Oh no, is this a love triangle?”

I bent down and pretended to mess with my boots. “No, Frank. It's not a love triangle if they don't love you back. It's just…weird. And vaguely off-putting.”

“Why wouldn't they love me?” Frank said. “That doesn't make any sense. Everybody loves me.”

“You wanna weigh in here, Ned?” Darling said. “You might not be guilded, but if Nina sings, you're gonna have to suffer through it with the rest of us.”

“Think I'll stay out of this one,” I said. “Sounds like a guild matter to me.”

Nina raised her mug and tipped it in my direction. “Spoken like someone who prefers not to be stabbed.”

“To be fair,” Darling said, “multiple people have referred to your singing as sounding like they're being stabbed in the eardrum.”

“Blah blah,” Nina said. “It's fine, it'll be different here. This game's realistic, yeah? It'll probably be able to capture my voice better than the others.”

“Oh God,” Darling said. “I didn't even think about that. It's gonna be even worse than before.”

Things got easier from there, mostly because I kept drinking. The firewater was definitely strong, and the burn was ever-present, but the taste faded out the more you drank.

The first group of guildies filtered in about twenty minutes later, a pair of orcish casters in dark robes plus another human melee type with a longsword hanging on either hip. I introduced myself at the bar, shook their hands, then immediately forgot their names.

Thankfully, given we were in an actual game, they had nameplates. And that helped a surprising amount. But for a moment there, I'd honestly forgotten that I was in a game at all.

The same introductory scenario repeated itself many times over the next hour or so, and while Nina eventually flitted off to find someone to sing with, the remaining four of us lingered at the bar.

House and Rock both sat quite still, studiously ignoring everyone who came over. I shot House a quick message and found that she and Rock were talking about professions via the messaging system.

They made a good pair, honestly, and I couldn't help but smile at the thought of House having an actual friend.

Darling rolled her shoulders as the final group departed for one of the few remaining tables. “That's the whole crew,” she said. “Not so bad, right?”

“Nah, it was fine,” I said, but to be honest, I still felt a little uncomfortable. The inn had become a bit too packed for my tastes, and it was getting increasingly hard to hear Darling over the roar of the common room. “So, what's the breakdown like for tomorrow? Raid-wise.”

Darling smirked at me. “It never stops with you, huh?”

“What doesn't stop?” I said. “You mean the game? Nah. If the captain hadn't told us to come back in the morning, I'd have kept questing. Can't stop moving, can't risk falling behind.”

“I figured,” Darling said. “Anyway, we've got seven healers for tomorrow, two dedicated tanks, a pair of offtanks including Rock, and the rest are damage dealers.”

I inclined my head. “Sounds pretty ideal. Wonder what it is we're up against. I wish we could have gotten a good look at their hideout. Gotta think we'll be fighting more of those enhanced Barbarians, plus the Fae themselves.”

Darling stood. “I'm looking forward to it. But for now, you should really try and mingle a bit, get to know some people beyond the intro. I know it's not really your thing, but you've gotta start thinking about stuff like this as part of the game, too.” She slapped my back, hard. “Getting forty people to work together seamlessly is about a lot more than just downing bosses, you know. They've gotta like you before they'll be willing to listen for more than a few seconds.”

I winced and took a deep pull on my jug of firewater, which I'd nearly emptied. “Yeah, that's fair. I'll see what I can do.”

“You could always go sing with Nina,” Darling said. “That would definitely break the ice.”

“I would rather fall through the ice and drown,” I said.

Darling laughed at that, grinning her gap-toothed smile. “I should go check in on all of our groups and see who needs what. You all set?”

“Yup,” I said. “Oh, if anyone's got extra leather, I'd like to buy it off them if possible. I'm still rocking a bunch of empty slots from that class change. I'll take Soul Gems, too, if you wanna collect those. And make sure everybody sleeps for at least four hours, too. That way they'll end up with a rested buff when they wake up. Improves the rate you level at.”

“Awesome,” Darling said. “And yeah, I'll look into the leather thing. See you in the morning, then?”

“Bright and early,” I said.

She headed off for the nearest table, every head swiveling in her direction as she approached.

“That was nice,” Frank said. “She's nice. I love her.”

“What was nice specifically?” I said.

Frank sighed contentedly. “Everything about her is nice.”

I glanced over at House, who was staring off into space with Rock doing the exact same thing beside her. They made for quite the pair, but none of Darling's guildies had batted an eye at the two of them. Probably wasn't anything new for Rock, and it seemed to be helping House blend in.

In any case, House still seemed to be enjoying herself because I hadn't heard from her for quite a while. I looked up and down the bar, scanning for Lars but not finding him. He was probably back in the kitchen.

That cactus soup had proved pretty popular. It was served cold and tart, fragrant with lime and salt. But I'd felt a bit too apprehensive about meeting everybody to really enjoy the bowl I'd ordered despite how good it was.

I eyed my jug of firewater, feeling surprisingly alone all of a sudden despite the crowded inn. I hadn't realized just how much it had helped to have Darling sitting nearby.

System Alert: The Renown Ladder is now active!

“Renown Ladder, huh?” I said, my excitement returning as I opened my menus and searched for the new addition. I found it highlighted in gold and instantly threw it up in front of me, a blue holographic panel with fifty names listed on the first page. I jumped right to the top, fully expecting to see my name, and…that was not the case.

1. {Geezeman} Renown Rank V

2. {Tyrann} Renown Rank 4

3. {Ned} Renown Rank 4

4. {Aconnu} Renown Rank 4

5. {Herata} Renown Rank 4

All of that excitement gave way to shock. “You've gotta be kidding me right now. This is definitely wrong.” I refreshed the list, but nothing changed.

The inn was still noisy, though it had grown noticeably quieter, and I felt eyes on the back of my head. I wrapped my fingers around my jar of firewater and squeezed, hard.

No doubt they were wondering the same thing I was. With all the advantages I'd had—and continued to have—how could I possibly be anything but first?

I'd spent a literal fortune to get into the position I was in. I'd abandoned my entire life for this game…and I was third?

The clay jug shattered in my hand, brown shards flying across the bar, the remaining firewater splashing over the counter. I shook my hand dry and wiped it on my pants, mumbling an apology to Lars as he came over to wipe it up with a cloth.

“Frank,” I said. “We need to fix this. Right now. How are we already behind?”

“Well, the first dude found a Legendary item,” Frank said. “That was worth a ton of Renown. The others, I dunno. But going from I.V to V is a big jump, so you might be okay with this Raid Quest pending.”

“But I'm third,” I repeated. I read back over the names. “Wait. Tyrann? The Tyrann? Shit.”

“What?”

“He's one of the biggest streamers around.” I massaged my temples.” It still felt like everyone was staring at me, and my skin prickled at the continuing attention. “Can you read the room for me?” I said. “I don't wanna turn around.”

“Uh,” Frank said. “Sure. Couple people looking your way, but most of them seem to be checking out the ladder. Nina's walking onto the stage, looks like she's getting ready to—”

A shriek punched through the din, so loud that I actually jumped. The sound didn't improve from there, but I physically felt the attention shift from me to her, and I was more than glad for the noise, shrill as it was.

I glanced down at Frank. “We aren't screwed, right? We can't be. We've done too much to be screwed.”

“Nah,” Frank said. “We're good. I mean, if we fail that quest tomorrow then yes, we are royally screwed. But as of now, we're in a pretty good place. It's an early ladder. Don't stress over it.”

“I am absolutely going to stress over that,” I said. “As far as I'm concerned, Renown is a metric of progress, and if we aren't leading the charge, then we're not working hard enough.” I forced myself to take another deep, calming breath.

“I guess not being on top could help a bit in the short term. Might make us less of a target. And they might underestimate just how useful you really are. But man. All we've got left is our leveling advantage, and at the rate Darling's crew is going, we won't have that for much longer.”

“Sure,” Frank said. “But we've got a base of operations now, plus a way to hide it. And you've still got a unique item in your pocket. But it's gonna be pretty difficult to be the guy with the highest Renown rank, the highest level, and the most gold all at the same time. Better off picking one or two of those to focus on.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I guess I just thought we'd be able to pull that off for a little longer. But if Tyrann's in-game…”

“Is he really that good?”

“I mean, yeah, he's top tier,” I said. “But I'm more worried about the resources he's gonna have at his disposal. Guy's got an absolute legion of fans. Like, thousands of people who would do anything to play with him.

“Plus playing games is his job. He could put in just as many hours as I can if he decides that's in his best interest. And if this game is getting half the attention Kline claims it is, playing E.B.O is absolutely in Tyrann's interest.”

“I like those odds,” Frank said.

I laughed under my breath. “Of course you do.”

“Plus you've got friends now too,” Frank said. “That's big.”

“Eh,” I said.

“What?”

“I mean I like them so far,” I said. “Especially Darling.”

“Back off,” Frank said.

“Oh shut up,” I said. “She's just easy to be around.”

I got the feeling Frank had just narrowed his eyes somehow. “So it begins.”

“Nothing is beginning,” I said. “I'm just saying that she's good with people. Seems like she cares about what her members want, which is more than I can say for a lot of the guild leaders I've known in the past.”

“We're gonna have to duel over her, huh?” Frank said. “I don't want to kill you, Ned. But I will if I have to.”

“Really?” I said.

“Well, I probably wouldn't kill you if it actually made you dead. If you were gonna respawn though, sure. I'd kill you a lot. Like a bunch. Dozens of times.”

I shrugged. “That seems fair. Anyway, can we move on? Darling's cool. Rock's cool, too. It seems like he and House are really hitting it off, which is awesome. Nina's pretty funny.

That message she sent where she thanked me for convincing Rock to take that piece of gear was weirdly nice. But calling them friends is too strong. That's all I'm saying.”

“Well, you just met them,” Frank said. “It'll happen.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I'm happy regardless, so long as we're all working together, but there's probably a reason Darling hasn't asked me to join the guild.”

“I think it's more she's treating you as if you've got a guild of your own,” Frank said.

I hesitated. That was pretty true, actually. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Still feels kind of off to me, though.”

“Ugh,” Frank said.

“What?”

“I hate this.”

“What?” I repeated, maybe a bit more defensively than I should have.

“I actually feel bad for you. I mean, I've always found you to be wildly pathetic, but now it feels like you being pathetic affects me, Frank. And that's awful.”

I laughed and rubbed the back of my head. “Yeah. Kinda sucks, huh? I didn't realize I was doing it, but I kind of set up the same situation I had back in the real world.”

“How's that?” Frank said.

“I've got a bunch of people hanging around me 'cause it's advantageous for them to do so. Because I can do things for them, provide help, whatever.” I chewed that over for a moment. “It's alright, not a big deal. Just kind of ironic that I left the real world behind because I was sick of people treating me like an A.T.M and immediately established a similar set up.”

“It's not that similar,” Frank said.

“It's pretty similar.”

“It is quite similar,” Frank agreed, which made me grin again.

“Right?”

“But I think you'll win 'em over eventually,” Frank said. “If only by your proximity to me.”

“You are pretty proximal,” I said.

Nina hit an especially high note—badly—and I had to cover my ears. “Hey,” I said, “how long do I need to wait before I head back to the guardhouse?”

Frank hesitated. “I can't disclose the exact time, but guards tend to be early risers.”

I mulled that over. I wasn't particularly tired, but I still needed to get four hours of sleep to refresh my Rested buff. In the event we somehow managed to complete that Raid Quest, I wanted that Experience boost active.

“Think I'm going to call it a night, if that's good with you,” I said. “Wake up in exactly four

hours and check with the captain. I figure that if he's not ready at that point we could go out and murder some stuff and hit level 8, then check back with him.

“We seriously need to fill all of the empty gear slots, too. I wouldn't be surprised if Darling scrounges up something close to a whole set for me, but anything that she gets her hands on will probably be level 5 or below.”

“I think you should get some fresh air first,” Frank said. “Clear your head a bit.”

“I'm good, honestly,” I said. “I'm still pretty happy with the way things are going. Ladder is royally pissing me off, but it is what it is. We'll just have to grind harder from here on out.”

I eyed Lars, who was carrying a huge platter loaded with bowls of green soup across the common room with practiced ease. “Do I need to get a room key or something like that?”

“House has already set the permissions,” Frank said. “Everybody else will need a key from Lars, but you can just walk in and grab one. Still think you should head out back and take a bit of a breather.”

“I'm good. I just want to fast forward the next four hours so we can get back to work. Better to…” I trailed off as Frank's words registered. “Wait. Did you say go out back?”

“Yeah, wherever,” Frank said. “Just thought it'd be quiet back there.”

“Oh,” I said. “Could I actually use the Memento back there while people are inside the inn?”

“Wow, what a great idea, why didn't I think of that?” Frank said. “Also, yes. You can and should do that.”

I hopped off my stool and headed toward the stairwell. I found a narrow hall tucked back to its left, lined with doors that faced toward the back of the building. Each of them was numbered, and I kept going until I found one with no markings. “This the exit?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

I glanced down the hall to make sure I hadn't been followed, then yanked the door open and slipped outside. The cool night air hit me in a refreshing rush; I hadn't realized just how warm the common room had gotten.

It was quiet, too, the only sound that of the wind rustling through the gray leaves of my tree. It'd grown quite a bit since I'd last seen it, so much so that I was a little worried about it. If it kept up the pace it was currently growing at, it wouldn't be long before the canopy showed above the inn.

I put my back to the tree and slid down it. “Still kinda thought we'd find someone out here who needed killing,” I said.

“I wish,” Frank said. “We haven't killed anything in hours. I'm dying over here.”

I rooted through my inventory until I came upon the Innkeeper's Memento. “So, this will upgrade the inn, right?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “And draw in a special N.P.C to run it.”

“And you're sure it's safe to use it?”

“I'm magic, Ned. I'm sure. It'll be fine as long as nobody sees you use it. The first upgrade focuses on the rooms and the benefits they give. Won't mess with the common room in the slightest, and nobody's in any of your rooms just yet.”

“Good enough for me,” I said. I popped the locket into the palm of my hand, thought about using it, and confirmed my choice.

Personal Alert: Congratulations, your {Basic Inn} has upgraded to an {Intermediate Inn}!

“Details?” I said to Frank.

“On the way.”

{Intermediate Inn} (Tier 2 Building)

Provides daily housing for up to 50 Players/N.P.C's while generating currency per player/N.P.C housed at a variable rate (given current zone economics this building currently provides the controlling Player with {Copper Coin} x25 per Player housed per night or {Copper Coin} x15 per N.P.C per night). Also provides free food and drink accessible/usable only to patrons/owner while occupying the inn (region dependent; currently supplying {Cactus Soup} and {Firewater}).

Players who sleep for at least 4 hours at an Intermediate Inn will earn 20% increased Experience from all sources for 24 hours. Players who sleep for at least 4 hours at an Intermediate Inn that they control will instead earn 25% more Experience and 10% increased Renown from all sources for 24 hours.

“Beautiful,” I said. “Absolutely beautiful. That nets the guild an extra 10% Experience, and I pick up 5% plus a 10% Renown boost. And the duration's longer, too.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “Twelve to twenty-four hours, pretty nice.”

“So much better,” I said. “Now we don't need to worry about that buff falling off before we can finish that quest.” I shifted in place; the ground felt colder than it'd been before. But no matter how I repositioned myself, I couldn't shake the chill that was bleeding up through my leather leg guards.

I stood up and tried to brush them off, but the sand that clung to them was every bit as damp as it'd been this morning. If anything, it was even wetter than it'd been before.

“What is going on with this plot?” I said. I peered through the tree's branches, up at the clear, starry sky. Then something ice cold splattered across my forehead. “Was that…it can't be raining, right?” I wiped the drop off my forehead and it came away clear.

“It does not appear to be raining,” Frank said, deadpan.

Another drop landed on my shoulder and sank into my tunic, leaving a dark circle behind. And then it all clicked. “Oh. Oh man. Oh, shit!”

“Yeah?” Frank said, his tone expectant.

“The tree will become whatever you need it to become,” I said, repeating the words that the Fair Folk King had uttered before he'd gifted me the item that had turned into the tree now towering before me.

“And we're in the middle of the desert. Where our magical tree is making it rain. In a secluded area where nobody else is around to collect it.” I barked a laugh and cupped a palm, catching a drop in the center of my hand. “It might as well be raining silver coins.”

“Which means…”

“That I'm starting to think you were right, Frank. Things might actually be looking up from here, ladder and all.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Weeee woooo weeee woooo,” Frank said. “I'm an alarm clock, weeee woooo weeee woooo.”

I blinked awake in the room I'd taken, then rubbed at my bleary eyes. “What…what the hell are you doing?”

“Waking you up?” Frank said. “It's been four hours on the dot.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks.” It was still dark, judging by the windows, and the fire I'd lit in the nearby hearth had burned itself down to embers.

I paged through my notifications, scrolling through dozens of world-first announcements, growing more and more frustrated with each new line. The vast majority of them were related to professions, but a couple of unique titles had been picked up as well, which stung more than it probably had a right to.

House, though, had picked up two titles of her own:

{Machinist Prime} (Unique Title)

Vehicles and contraptions created via the {Soul Machinist} profession are 5% more efficient when powered via Soul Gems.

{The First Arborist} (Unique Title)

All trees planted have a 2% increased chance to provide Rare materials.

“Huh,” I said. “I guess House took some initiative on the profession front. Seems like a good sign. Was she able to pick up two professions thanks to her racial?”

“Yup,” Frank said. “She'll get two more at level 10 as well.”

“Awesome. I recognize the first one, but can you link me the second profession?”

“Yup,” Frank said.

{Arborist}

An expert in the growth and harvesting of trees for Lumber and various other materials.

“Ohh,” I said. “Lumber, huh? That could be useful if it actually works. Not totally sure how we're supposed to grow trees in sand.” There was another prompt that caught my eye as well.

You earned 405 Experience!

“Is that from my Renown buff?”

“Sure is,” Frank said.

“Damn, that's pretty great. Barely need anything to hit level 8.” I threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, checking to make sure I'd received the improved version of the Rested debuff. And thankfully, I had.

And on top of that? I felt fantastic; it seemed like I'd finally adapted to the system. I checked the game time next: 3:55 A.M.

“Thanks again for waking me up,” I said. “Pumped to get an early start. Gonna be our biggest day so far.”

“You got it,” Frank said.

I left the room and shut the door gently behind me, then crept down the hall, trying to keep the floorboards from squeaking beneath me. I'd expected to find a few people passed out in the common room, but the entire space was deserted, the chairs stacked atop the tables while Lars mopped the floor.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, then dropped my voice. “You're up early.”

Lars nodded and looked to the front door. “Yeah. Passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow, but something woke me up a couple hours later.”

“What did?”

He shrugged and dipped his mop into a nearby bucket. “I dunno. Just got hit with a bolt of adrenaline or something. Might've been a dream, can't say.”

“Been a rough couple days,” I said. “Plus you're sleeping in a new place.”

He looked to the front door again, which made me wonder if this had something to do with the Memento I'd used. “Yeah, maybe. Just can't shake the feeling that something's up.”

“Have you seen House?” I said.

“I think she's out back. You have a good night?”

“Yeah, surprisingly enough I had a pretty good time. You?”

He nodded. “It was nice to be running things again. Night went by in a blur. Could've done without Nina's banshee impression, but otherwise it was good. It's funny, I used to hate this part of the job. But it's nice having everything so quiet.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Things really went off without a hitch, huh? Thanks again for covering for me.”

“Wasn't hard,” Lars said. “And to be totally honest, I don't know where I'd even go if I wasn't here.”

“Well, we're glad to have you. But it does feel like we need to figure something out if you're going to be working this much.”

“Sure.”

“What was the take for last night?”

“We housed thirty-eight people at twenty-five coppers apiece,” Lars said. “So, we made almost ten silver.”

“That's amazing,” I said. Granted, it was a little less amazing given that all that coin had come from my allies, but the potential for earning was definitely there. I frowned. “Wait, you didn't pay for a room, right?”

“Nah,” he said. “House gave me a key.”

“Did she?” I said. “Wow.”

“Is that…okay?” Lars said.

I held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Yeah, of course. At the very least, you should be staying and eating for free. House is just spacey, so I'm surprised she pulled that off. Hey, what were you making at your old inn?”

“Tips, mostly,” Lars said. “But I guess you gotta include food and drink and housing and all that. But it was Ma's inn, so…” He shrugged again. “Not a good comparison.” He opened up a trade menu with me and dropped almost ten silver in and confirmed the transaction.

I opened up my Housing permission window, and sure enough there was a section that dealt with N.P.C management. I found Lars and gave him open access to a room. “Alright, from now on you can eat and drink whatever you want without cost. Just keep whatever key you've got. And what did you used to make for tips?”

“On a good night?” Lars said. He gave me a rueful grin. “Maybe half a silver.”

“Alright,” I said. “Keep three silvers for yourself then.”

Lars stopped mopping. Then he shook his head. “That's too much.”

“You earned that money. And this inn wouldn't be full up without you. Hell, it wouldn't even be standing right now. I don't know if 30% is a good deal or if it's sustainable or any of that, but it seems like a good place to start. And you're not just running an inn, you're helping me hide the fact that I'm the one who owns it. That's way more valuable to me than a handful of silver.”

I edited the transaction down to six silver and change. I felt a little guilty doing it. I could have easily thrown Lars more than I had. But he'd seemed blown away by getting three silver for a night's work, and it wasn't like I could spare much just yet.

Lars hesitated but confirmed the transaction. “Thanks.”

“Yup,” I said. “Hey, are there any tarps around? Something waterproof?” I squinted. “And maybe an extra bathtub?”

Lars leaned against his mop. “What're you up to now?”

I headed for the hallway. “C'mon, I'll show you. I gotta talk to House anyway.” I led Lars through the back door and out into the courtyard.

He stared up at the tree, open-mouthed. “That is not a normal tree.”

“That it is not,” I said. “It's a water tree, I guess. Or something like that. It rains, basically, but I need to figure out a way to collect it. I was thinking I could string up a tarp beneath it and cut a hole in the center. Maybe put a bathtub beneath it to collect the runoff? Right now it's all dropping right into the sand.” I squinted at House, who was kneeling in the dirt in one of the corners with her back to us. Didn't seem like she'd heard us arrive.

Lars pursed his lips. “Yeah, I can manage that. Or something like it, at least. Gonna need a better solution though in the coming weeks.” He pointed up at the canopy. “This looks a lot like the World Tree. Canopy's weird, but still.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Remember that seed thing the king gave me? This is it.”

Lars nodded. “And you remember how big that thing was, right?”

“Yeah.”

“In any case, a bathtub or something will work for now. But this thing's going to get big fast. You probably want to start planning for that.”

I winced. I was already a little worried about that—none of the surrounding buildings were more than twenty-five feet high, and the tree was already pushing twelve or so—but that was a problem for later. “Yeah, will do,” I said. “You need any help with getting a system set up for now? If not, I've got a lot of stuff I need to see to. Big day.”

Lars waved me away. “Nah, go ahead. I've got this.”

“Appreciate it,” I said. Lars ducked back into the inn, so I jogged over to House's side. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” House said. “I have acquired two titles and several seeds.”

“I saw that,” I said. “Soul Machinist seems like a great choice. I would've recommended that myself if I'd had time to think.”

That was true, sort of. I didn't love that she'd be using Soul Gems as well, but I couldn't deny how useful a mount might be in the early game.

“I am pleased you approve of Soul Machinist,” House said. She leaned down into the dirt, squinting at a pile of sand.

“So, what are you doing?” I said.

“I am waiting for my trees to grow so I may harvest them,” House said.

I eyed our empty plots, each of which had little piles of dirt heaped around them. “Did you…did you plant seeds?”

“Affirmative,” House said.

I inspected the three remaining plots, all of which still read as being empty. “So, when you say you planted the seeds,” I said. “Do you mean you scooped up some sand and dropped them into a hole?”

“Yes,” House said. “That is exactly what I did.”

“Love it,” Frank said.

I scratched the back of my head. “You didn't wanna like…use the menus to do that? Because even when I planted that Tear a ways back, I still had to use menus to confirm everything.”

House's face went blank. “Oh.” She gazed around at the plots. “It appears that in actuality, I did not plant the seeds. I simply covered them in sand. How embarrassing.”

I stifled a laugh and shook my head. “I'm pretty sure we're going to need to convert these plots to Basic Farms before we can plant anything, anyway.”

“Truth,” Frank said.

“And I'm not sure that's even going to work,” I continued. “I tried it with that Intermediate Farm right off the bat, and it said I didn't have an acceptable spot for it. I'm guessing that's because we have sand, not dirt.”

“Also true,” Frank said.

House hung her head. “I apologize for my continued incompetence.”

“Apology accepted,” Frank said.

“House, you're fine. Frank, you're not helpful.” I brought up the Housing menu and selected the Basic Farm.

{Basic Farm} (Tier 1 Building)

Provides access to 4 nutrient-rich farming plots. Plots may be rented weekly to generate income. Placement restrictions apply.

Plot Requirement: 1 Housing Plot.

Resources Required: {Lumber} x5.

Load time: 1 Hour.

I tried to place it and immediately got an error message in response. “Yep, no go. We still can't place a farm…” I trailed off, reading the prompt. I'd assumed it was another placement error, but I was wrong.

You lack the resources to build this structure.

“Hold on a second,” I said. “That actually worked? Or at least it seems like it would work if we had more materials.”

“Yep,” Frank said.

I eyed my tree, my excitement building. “That thing must have turned our plots fertile, too! Damn do I love that tree.”

“Is my error now considered to be a success?” House said.

“Absolutely, House,” I said. “This is huge. I really didn't like the fact that we had plots just sitting idle.” I eyed the plots for a moment, thinking. Then I opened up a trade menu with House and gave her my Tradecloak. “Alright, as much as I'd love to sit here and dig into those professions, I've got too much on my plate for that. So I'm going to give you a list of tasks, okay?”

“Affirmative,” House said.

“Keep selling that water with Lars. Once you've got enough silver to buy fifteen more units of Lumber, come back here and complete those Basic Farms. Then I want you to look through your Soul Machinist profession and see if there's a type of tree that's good to plant.

“If not, I want you to go to the market and buy a bunch of different seeds and start experimenting. Your goal is to find the type that gives us the best yields possible.” I glanced down at Frank. “Unless you've got something more specific to give her?”

“Mm,” Frank said. “All trees produce Lumber, but some produce more than others, and some take longer to grow. I can't give you the specifics, but House should be trying to maximize the amount of Lumber she can harvest per hour.”

“I feel as though I am particularly well-suited to this task,” House said. “Do you require anything else of me?”

“Just stay busy,” I said. “If you're waiting for stuff to grow, then you should be selling water and interacting with N.P.C's, that sort of thing. You really are doing better, though.”

“Excellent,” House said. “I shall update you as needed.”

“Thanks House,” I said. I headed back through the inn and slipped out onto the empty streets. It was still surprisingly cold, my breath frosting the air with every step I took. I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the quiet, knowing it was probably the last time the world would seem so empty.

Now that nearly a full day had passed since the Head Start period had ended, it was only a matter of time until the player base left their starter areas for greener pastures.

And judging from the progress Darling's crew had made—though I'd helped them a considerable amount—it seemed like I ought to count on people arriving sooner rather than later, maybe even as quickly as later this afternoon.

The idea made my stomach do a little flip. I was confident in how well I'd hidden my inn, and nobody knew just how bound to the Onyx Sands I really was, but all it would take to start the manhunt off for real was a single player spotting me as I walked down the street.

I eyed the nameplate that still hovered above my head. I still had no idea how I was going to handle that. But for now, all I could do was focus on the immediate future.

I took a rope bridge into the Military Ward and entered the guardhouse, finding the captain sitting red-eyed in his war room.

He spotted me and did a double-take, then stifled a yawn. “You're up early.”

“Likewise,” I said. “Came to see if you had any leads on that scroll.”

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “No new ones, I'm afraid.”

“No new leads? Meaning you had a lead yesterday?”

“You could say that,” the captain said. “But the phrase last resort would be far closer to the truth. I was hoping to find something else.”

I plopped down into the chair across from him. “At this point, a last resort is sounding pretty good. What do you have for me?”

The captain sighed. “You are aware of Highwater City, correct?”

“Yeah, follow the road to the north, right?”

“Quite,” the captain said. “It is their queen's custom to keep a powerful mage on retainer. I don't like the idea of sending you her way, but if you've any intention of unlocking that case before sunset, I'd say you have little choice in the matter.”

“How do I find her?”

“You'd be hard-pressed not to. Just be on the lookout for a giant, ostentatious tower.”

“Okay, mage in a tower, classic,” I said. “So I'll head there now. You have any idea what she's likely to ask for in return for her help?”

“I'm unsure,” the captain said. “But the mage…” he trailed off, something like grief storm-clouding across his face. He met my eyes. “The mage has not had an easy life. Regardless of the way things appear when you arrive, should she favor you with a moment of her time, you will treat her with every ounce of the respect she deserves. If I hear a word to the contrary, you may find yourself swinging from the gallows well before your time is up. Do we understand each other?”

I drew back, recoiling at the sudden heat in his voice. “Okay,” I said. “Not a problem.”

“Good.”

New Quest: The Mage's Aid!

Objective: Travel to Highwater City and enlist the aid of Sarissa the Blue.

Reward: Experience, Renown, and a large advantage toward the Raid Quest {Room to Breathe}.

I rose from my seat. “Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

The captain shook his head and produced the scroll case from beneath the table, then held it out. “You shouldn't thank a man for sending you to your death.”

I took the case and dropped it into my inventory. “Eh. If I don't do anything, I'm dead either way. So, I'm going to take every single advantage I can get.” I nodded and left the captain sitting at his table, concern plain on his face. “Alright Frank. We're off to see the wizard.”

“Had to be a wizard,” Frank said. “It's always a wizard. Why isn't anybody ever off to see the executioner?”

“I think that'd be a really different story,” I said. “Probably a much shorter, darker one.”

“Eh,” Frank said. “I mean, in this case, it's not really all that different.”

I jerked to a stop about halfway down the guardhouse steps. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Frank said. “Nothing at all. Shall we?”

“Well that's ominous,” I said.

I turned north and pelted down the street, running through the gatehouse and out into the open sands, toward Highwater City. “How long's this run gonna take?” I said.

“Shouldn't be too bad without the others to slow you down or caravans to worry about,” Frank said. “And if you're on foot, you might be better off leaving the road behind and just striking directly north. Curves a bunch.”

“Thanks.”

I sent a message to Darling letting her know I'd be gone for a little while—though I figured she was probably still asleep—then pressed on into the early morning light. I was about fifteen minutes outside of the Vale when another prompt hit my screen.

World-first Alert!

Player {Avia} is the first Player to obtain a mount!

Awarding Title: {The First Rider}!

I hissed a breath through my teeth. “She's already got a mount? Seriously?”

“Now that someone's finally found one, I can indeed officially confirm that there are mounts,” Frank said. “You are welcome. Now pick up the pace. The wizard's a morning person.”

I grunted. “A mount sure would be handy right now. Given that I'm crossing the desert. Again.”

“If she's found a mount already, it means it was a Rare drop,” Frank said. “You can't count on that sort of thing. House might be able to make you one with that Soul Machinist profession sooner rather than later. Something to look into.”

“Ugh. These people and their lucky drops.” I pulled up the Renown Ladder, and though a part of me knew that wasn't a good idea, I had to know. And sure enough, the top five had already shifted.

1. {Geezeman} Renown Rank V

2. {Tyrann} Renown Rank V

3. {Aconnu} Renown Rank V

4. {Avia} Renown Rank V

5. {Ned} Renown Rank 4

“Oh my God,” I said. “I'm already almost out of the top five.” I swallowed my irritation and tried to pick up the pace even more. “What the hell is happening? Geezeman and Avia found some Rare drops so fine, whatever. That's not the sort of thing that's going to keep anyone at the top for very long. But what's with Tyrann and Aconnu? How could they possibly be in front of me?”

“My guess is that they're working on those other events,” Frank said. “We did the pirate one up north, but we left those other three events up for grabs. And there are plenty of other ways to get Renown.”

“But how could they have already gotten that far?”

“It's like you said, they've probably got people behind them. Think of how much more we could have accomplished if you'd had thirty-nine friends join you from the get-go. Thirty-nine people you trusted implicitly. How easy would that Woodbone starter area have looked with an army of healers and D.P.S at your disposal?”

I cursed under my breath. “Stupid people and their stupid friends. It's like they're playing an entirely different game.”

“True,” Frank said. “We'll have to keep an eye out for those event announcements. If I'm right and that's what those two are up to, they'll probably be wrapping them up at some point today.”

“At which point they'll launch even farther ahead of me,” I said.

“Yeah, no guarantees though,” Frank said. “Those events will end eventually if nobody wraps them up.”

“Damn. I just don't see what else I can do.”

“Just gotta keep doing what we're doing,” Frank said. “We're on the right track.”

I put my head down and focused on running, trying to will myself faster and faster. I raced through the sands, making use of Shadedrift on cooldown to shoot ahead in little bursts, dialing back into a jog whenever I ran out of breath.

The feeling was pretty authentic—a subtle burn in the back of my throat, a slight pinching sensation in my side, reminiscent of a cramp without the misery—but I was able to keep up a pretty amazing pace despite my low Constitution.

And as I made my way up and down and through the many, many dunes, a dark, jagged line formed along the horizon.

It started with a few steep hills that could pass for dunes at first glance, but those hills kept rising as I ran on until I was close enough to appreciate what I was looking at: mountains. A wall of dark, imposing peaks, rising like teeth to frame the northern end of the Onyx Sands.

I pressed on across the last couple of dunes, daunted by the sheer size of the range looming before me.

“So…Highwater City,” I said. “When they say Highwater, they mean like, high waters, right? As in the city's maybe at the base or—”

“Nope,” Frank said. “You totally gotta climb those mountains.”

I sighed and resigned myself to the climb. “Thought so.” I pulled up my mini map. It looked like there was a path up a bit to the northeast, so I altered my course slightly. “You wanna hit me with the codex entry for this place?”

“Sure thing.”

Codex Entry: 804 Highwater City

Nestled thousands of feet above the far northern reaches of the Onyx Sands, Highwater City has been referred to as the Crown of the Desert for decades. Sitting at the confluence point of two major rivers, the massive city has leveraged its near-limitless supply of freshwater into a veritable empire, enriching its citizens and making nobles out of its traders.

“Decades, huh?” I said.

“Yeah?” Frank said.

“That's really not much time in the scheme of things. If they wanted to be grandiose about the city, they would have said it's been considered the crown or whatever for centuries, maybe even a millennium, that sort of thing. But if it only became what it is now a decade or so ago, that means something changed dramatically in the recent past.”

“Can't comment on that,” Frank said, and it kinda felt like he was winking.

I tucked the thought away for now, but resolved to scope the city out with a critical eye as I searched for the mage's tower.

I found the switchbacks I was looking for a couple of minutes later, a precarious but well-built road that was wide enough for two carriages to pass abreast. Armored guards were posted at each turn, soldiers who were dressed far more ornately than the guards back at the Vale.

{Highwater Centurion} (Level ?? Humanoid)

H.P: 3,200/3,200

I whistled under my breath. “The guards are on a different level here.”

“Everything's on a different level here,” Frank said. “Literally.”

“Ugh,” I said.

“Because the city's way higher than the Vale,” Frank clarified, which only made it worse.

“No, I got it,” I said. “I just didn't think it was funny.”

“Rude,” Frank said.

A horse-drawn carriage came rumbling down the switchback above me, sparks flying out of the wheel wells, the rasp of metal on metal sharpening to a screech as it approached. I stepped off to the side to let it pass but dropped onto my haunches to try and get a look at whatever device it was that was causing the sparks.

The carriage rolled past me, and though I didn't understand exactly how the contraption worked, it was obvious it employed some sort of braking system, with the operator pumping a metal lever as he guided his payload down the steep slopes, the two horses entirely nonplussed by the screeches and sparks emanating from just a few feet behind them.

“Interesting tech,” I said, seeing the switchbacks with new eyes. “Guess you'd really need something like that if you wanted to make it down into the sands. Especially if you were trading something heavy, like water.”

“Yup,” Frank said.

It also made me wonder who sold the braking systems. I pressed on, alternating between full-blown sprints and a brisk jog, drawing more than a few curious stares from the guards.

I rounded the final switchback and came face to face with a massive black gate that spanned the distance between two mountain peaks. But, if anything, the impossible structure looked more like a dam than a gate.

There looked to be a series of elevator-like contraptions arranged around the gate, each operated by a turnstile powered by a dozen people pushing or pulling to raise or lower the platform.

I headed for the nearest platform, but one of the guards stepped smoothly into my path. He kept his faceplate down, so his features were a mystery, though his voice was raspy and dry. “You have business here, traveler?”

“I do,” I said.

The guard waited, probably expecting me to elaborate. But I didn't see any need to share my plans. “Are you of the Vale, then?”

“I am, but I'm just passing through,” I said.

The guard leaned forward slightly, as if trying to get a better look at me. “So, you are not spoken for, then.”

I thought about claiming to be one of Vesuvian's men, but without the cloak to back me up that seemed like too big of a risk. “I suppose not.”

“Then your passage requires proof of value,” the guard said.

“Proof of value?” I repeated.

The guard nodded. “Highwater City is a prosperous place. We charge no fees to look upon its wonders, but we can't open our gates to just anyone.” He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, then opened up a trade menu with me.

I thought he might have been looking for a bribe, so I dropped a silver into the menu. But the guard immediately canceled the trade and shook his head. “I'm afraid that simply won't do. A silver coin is hardly worth a lift on the worker's part.” He cocked his head, so I opened another trade menu and dumped in all of the silver I had.

And when he shook his head, I threw in my Soul Gems, what little water I hadn't left with House, everything I had on me except the deed to my inn, a piece of paper that I assumed I could trade or sell in place of the inn itself. But obviously that was off the table.

“I'm afraid you aren't close,” the guard said. “If there's nothing else, I'll have to ask you to be on your way.”

I shrugged and dropped my deed into the trade window, just to see what would happen. The guard hesitated, and I expected him to confirm his end of the trade—at which point I'd simply cancel mine before it went through—but instead he canceled the transaction himself, stepped back, and waved me forward.

“My mistake,” he said, “I was unaware of your status as an innkeep. Do enjoy your stay, but be aware that your person is subject to inspection upon leaving Highwater City, and that all trade goods except a small allotment designated for personal use are taxed prior to departure.”

I shrugged at that and stepped onto the wooden platform. Some heavily-built N.P.C's—a Half-Giant and two Half-Trolls among them—got into position below and leaned into the turnstile and moved in a slow circle, the elevator rising slowly at first, then picking up speed as the workers gained momentum.

The Onyx Sands spread out beneath me as the platform climbed, the countless dunes looking surprisingly oceanic from such great heights. “So I'm getting inspected on the way out, huh?” I said. “I guess the buying-and-reselling-water thing is something they've clamped down on here.”

“Yup,” Frank said.

“And that guard was just making sure I had money? I thought he was after a bribe or something.”

“Nope,” Frank said. “Highwater City pays their guards well. They're not the type to take bribes.”

“Good to know,” I said. “So now that I've entered, can you tell me how much currency I need to use the lifts? Can't be long before the rest of the guild's gotta head this way, too.”

“Yup,” Frank said. “You already figured out the first way. You can get in instantly if you have a Tier 2 building somewhere. Failing that, the total value of your inventory has to add up to at least a gold coin. And that doesn't include the gear you're wearing.”

I whistled. “Man, glad I built that inn.”

“Sure,” Frank said. “But if you hadn't, you'd have still had the fifty silver you spent building it. So, you'd be pretty close either way.”

“Yeah, but not only did I pass the guard's test, but my fifty silver investment's gonna pay itself off in less than a week if the current rates hold. We might be falling behind on Renown, but I'm liking the way our economic prospects are shaking out. Makes me think we should take a deeper dive into the Housing system when we get back. Doubt we can afford to do much else right now, but it's something to keep in mind.”

The platform shuddered beneath me and stopped, having drawn even with the top of the massive gate.

I spun in place and went to step off but stumbled and nearly lost my balance at the sight of what lay beyond.

Water. A veritable ocean of it, with a grid of buildings set low atop the gentle waves. The city was kaleidoscopic in color, between the turquoise canals that crisscrossed the city and the long slashes of fabric that hung over them, twisting in the breeze and shading the watery passages from the ever-present sun.

And beneath that canopy of bright fabric was an armada of moving rafts, little wooden platforms floating about on pairs of pontoons. Most were loaded down with barrels or crates, riding low in the water as they ferried their goods across the city, but a fair few carried six or eight or even ten people, many of them sitting on the edges of the rafts with their feet hanging into the water.

The canals themselves were narrow, maybe eight feet across, though a far wider avenue curved from my right to my left. From my current vantage, it seemed likely that this waterway circumscribed the city.

And off in the distance, beyond all the movement and bustle, loomed a tall, spindly tower made of sapphire glass. I scratched the back of my head. “I guess our mage isn't the subtle type. Can't exactly miss that tower.”

“I think that's kinda the point,” Frank said.

A raft floated toward me then, approaching from the right with a triangular, purple sail.

“Purple route, service to The Bobbing Market,” the operator said. He had a long paddle that he steered the boat with, using it like a rudder, though the current seemed to guide his craft just as much as he did.

Two similar rafts drifted around the corner from the same direction, so I opened up my mini map, hoping to glean something about the direction I needed to head.

But the city was a zone in and of itself. I'd only revealed the small section I'd explored so far, a crescent-shaped area the map referred to as The Water's Edge.

I shrugged and waved the first raft down, then hopped onto it as it glided by my platform without slowing in the slightest.

“Purple route, service to The Bobbing Market,” the operator repeated, with the bored precision of a bus driver.

“Any chance you're heading toward that tower there?” I said.

“Get off at the market and head southeast,” the operator said. He gave me a quick once over. “Wouldn't recommend you go it alone, though.”

“Not safe?”

He shrugged. “Not dangerous in the way you're probably thinking. Purple route, service to The Bobbing Market,” he called out as we approached a nearby platform. He pushed his paddle deep into the water, guiding the boat toward a knot of maybe ten people, all of whom hopped on with practiced ease.

“Purple route, service to The Bobbing Market,” the operator droned, though this time the chatter rising from the new arrivals nearly drowned him out. And a good number of those people now stood directly between us, meaning it'd be difficult to get any more information out of him.

“Not dangerous in the way I'm thinking?” I said down to Frank. “Weird. How long's it going to take to make it to the market?”

“Couple minutes,” Frank said.

I swung my legs over the edge of the raft and opened my mini map back up, charting our progress as we floated around the outskirts of the city. We briefly passed through an area known as The Dregs, and though the canals were narrower and the houses more tightly packed, I didn't see anything to merit such a negative name. The neighborhood was at least as affluent as the Vale, if not more so. But maybe that was what passed for poor here.

The second area was called The Drown, and though we only skirted the district's very edge, I could make out a building on the mini map that looked a lot like a prison, with barred windows and tall fences.

The market came into focus then, even more garish in color than The Water's Edge. It occupied an inlet off the main waterway where the current was nonexistent, and a wide, U-shaped floating dock boxed the huge space while smaller rafts ceaselessly ferried people and goods from one side to the other. Dozens of larger, flatter rafts were moored to the floating docks, each serving as a makeshift shop.

“Now arriving at The Bobbing Market,” the operator said. “Purple route, service to The Water's Edge.”

He coasted the raft up to the floating docks and I leaped out right away, wanting to disembark before the others had a chance.

I landed on both feet, expecting to meet solid resistance and…not meeting that. My knees buckled, and I tipped over onto all fours, the boards I'd landed on sinking a few inches beneath the waves, cool water rushing over me.

“Tourist,” one of the other passengers said as he walked by me.

“You gotta keep moving,” another said, a woman who spoke to me over her shoulder as she passed. “They don't call it The Neverstill City for nothing.” She eyed my feet and said, laughing, “And do lose the boots.”

The dock buckled and swayed as the other people passed me, making use of the stability my weight had lent to the sides of the dock. Most of them were barefoot, and though a few wore thong-style sandals, none had anything remotely resembling the closed-toe pair of boots I had on. So I unequipped them and dropped them into my inventory.

I wasn't worried about embarrassing myself in a new city; I'd traveled a lot as a kid with my father on his business trips, and I was pretty accustomed to making a fool of myself abroad. As far as I was concerned, looking like an idiot the moment you stepped onto a distant shore was basically a rite of passage, and learning how to fit in was half the fun.

I grinned, not quite able to believe how well E.B.O had nailed that feeling. But at the same time, it was a little bittersweet; those early trips with my father were some of the only good memories I had of him, way back when we could spend time together without him harping on words like legacy and duty and the like.

I shrugged that all off and stood, wavering a little at first, then matched the other passengers' pace and found the woman had been right. If I kept moving, the boards only had time to sink a half-inch or so and walking across them was pretty easy.

I passed a number of raft shops as I made my way southeast, toward the tower that I'd circled almost entirely around, though it stood a good deal closer now.

Many of the shops were fragrant with familiar spices and citrus—lime and lemon, cardamom and cinnamon—but there were a great deal of barrels full of colorful fruits and powders I had no name for, their scents ranging from heady to sickly sweet.

There was a raft that looked to function as a bar, with a musician plucking a harp off in one corner, and another that had been equipped to function as a mobile forge. Everything you could want was right here, floating at my fingertips.

It was impressive for sure, but the market's opulence couldn't help but make me think of the state of affairs back in the Vale. The rickety inns—aside from mine, of course—the shuttered shops, the many buildings that looked as if they were waiting for an excuse to topple over.

I pulled up my Housing overlay and immediately spotted a couple of potential plots over by The Dregs. It was a little bit of a downer. This would have been a cool city to have settled in. But maybe people would pass the Vale by if places like this existed.

It gave me hope, too, that this wondrous city was the sort of place the Vale could become if I worked hard enough at improving it.

An explosion sounded from a few buildings over, and though a fair number of people winced at the sound—as did I—nobody paid it much mind. Apparently, that sort of thing was normal around here.

Sure enough, as I made my way toward the glassy tower, the explosions became more and more common until they seemed more the norm than the exception.

I checked my map as I walked along, the cool water lapping at my heels. I'd just revealed a section called The Freeze, at the very center of which stood the mage's gem-wrought tower.

“Place sure has a lot of proper nouns,” I said.

“Yup,” Frank said. “Names are powerful things. You ought to pay more attention to them.”

“I am paying attention,” I said. “Walking's just kinda hard here.”

“Name four of the areas we've found without consulting your map.”

“The Freeze, The Water's Edge, The Bobbing Market, uhhh, The Neverstill City?”

“That's a nickname,” Frank said.

“Three out of four's pretty good,” I said.

“Better than I thought you'd do,” Frank said. “But still. Pay attention.”

I cocked my head at him. “Do I smell a hint?”

“No, that's you,” Frank said. “You do realize you haven't bathed in four days, right?”

I pursed my lips.

“And you live in the desert. Where you're sweating, constantly. I might be a bit closer to your ass than everybody else, but that just means I'm the first to catch what you're putting out.”

I looked around because that was a decent point. And showing up stinking and covered in sweat was maybe not the best way to approach the mage's tower.

A few kids swam off the edge of the market, and a man maybe thirty feet away from me knelt on one of the floating docks, doing his laundry right out there in the open.

“Alright, Frank,” I said. “Take a deep breath.”

“What do you—”

I dove headfirst into the water. Well, tried to. But diving off a moving platform was kind of a tricky proposition, and I ended up slapping the water belly first.

I gave myself a quick scrubbing over beneath the ripples I'd created, then hauled myself back out onto the walkway, causing it to twist and submerge beneath me. I scrambled to my feet and made for The Freeze, unsure of what exactly I'd find.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Oh my God,” I said as I rounded a building and a gust of arctic wind blew over me.

The sun had finally risen, and though my clothes had dried for the most part, the cutting wind made it obvious that I should have waited a bit longer before venturing into an area that was so aptly named.

And there was plenty of ice, too, namely a frozen disc that extended maybe a mile around the mage's tower in every direction. People in robes were camped out all along the disc, which was mirror-smooth and looked to be several inches thick.

I waded through ten last feet of shallow water, then stepped up onto the disc, relieved to be standing on solid ground. It was surprisingly textured, full of tiny divots that were almost impossible to spot unless you were looking for them, but they offered an incredible amount of traction all the same.

An explosion like so many before it sounded from near the base of the tower, and a serpentine dragon made of blue fire roared halfway up the structure's incredible height, corkscrewing again and again only to fizzle away seconds later. It had no nameplate, though, which made me think it was some kind of spell.

“That almost looked like a firecracker,” I said. “You got an entry on this tower? All these people look like mages, so it seems like something's up.”

Codex Entry: 810 The Frozen Dagger

A construct of pure, magically-infused ice, the Frozen Dagger stands at the northern edge of Highwater City. Long considered one of the greatest works of magic ever wrought, mages from all across the world flock to the base of the Frozen Dagger, hoping to impress the tower's keeper with spells of great power and skill, and so be granted a moment of her time.

“Huh,” I said. “Fiery dragon makes a lot more sense in that context.” I looked around, seeing the disc with new eyes.

To my left, a water mage with scaly green skin had punched a series of thin holes in the ice and guided thin cords up out of the depths below, and was now weaving them into a mesmerizing display.

To my right, an ice mage was creating a statue of what I assumed to be the mage who occupied the tower, layering his work with impossible detail.

The same scene played out everywhere, a cacophony of spells going off in every conceivable direction, the air itself fireworking with power.

And I…could throw purply birds.

I hated to coopt Frank's words on that one—and my magical birds were still pretty sweet in my opinion—but it was entirely obvious that I didn't possess a shred of the power or expertise these mages wielded.

And a quick inspection of the frost mage I'd passed revealed that I couldn't even glimpse his level and that his Mana pool was nearly twenty times as large as mine.

Nobody seemed to notice me, let alone care as I threaded my way through the many mages clogging the ice. I found a relatively empty spot about twenty feet from the tower, next to the fire mage that had thrown up that enormous dragon.

“So,” I said to Frank, “seems like a Ravenblast's gonna fall on deaf ears here.”

“That seems likely,” Frank said.

I wasn't sure what else to do, so I rooted through my inventory, grabbed the scroll box, and held it up above my head. I still had no idea just how rare or powerful the thing was, but given that I was only level 7, I doubted I'd really stumbled across something that would stand out in the crowd.

So it was a shock when the top of the tower shimmered, its smooth dome melting away all at once to reveal a room tucked atop the tower. A woman stood looking down at me from its very edge, her blue robes flying sideways in the wind.

{Sarissa the Blue} (Level ?? Humanoid) (Legend)

H.P: 15,000/15,000

M.P: 180,000/180,000

She was marked as a friendly N.P.C, but damn, she was so far out of my league that I felt more than a little ridiculous holding the scroll box up above my head.

But for whatever reason, it seemed to have caught her attention, and the icy disc went dead silent as the crowd realized the mage was about to leave her tower.

She stepped to its very edge, the glassy structure shimmering beneath her, then stepped off it without hesitation. The air shimmered around her, stairs of sparkling ice appearing beneath her feet only to disappear behind her the very moment she stepped forward.

But something looked…wrong. She walked at a normal pace but descended far too quickly. Then I realized that the sparkling platforms were not only forming alongside her, but they were actually moving, too, shuttling her downward at an incredible pace. The effect was distinctly eerie to look at, but undeniably impressive.

She paused about ten feet above me, an icy platform glimmering beneath her. The cold coming off it was incredible. My face was numb within seconds, and I had to blink repeatedly to keep my eyelashes from icing over.

Sarissa had snow white hair that hung down beneath her shoulders, and her pale blue eyes were so icy as to be nearly colorless. Her posture was proud and regal. She stood ramrod straight, her head held high.

She spoke down to me in a voice that was a few octaves lower than I'd expected, given her appearance. “You are the scrollkeeper, yes?”

I darted a look at the scrollbox. “That would probably be me.”

“Smooth,” Frank whispered.

The mage's gaze immediately dipped to Frank, a bit of surprise flitting across her face. “Interesting,” she said. “It seems your scroll is the lesser of the artifacts you carry.”

“Damn right it is,” Frank said.

“Definitely the less mouthy of the two,” I said under my breath.

The mage cocked an eyebrow, though I couldn't tell if she'd really heard us.

The other mages had pressed in, flocking to the space around Sarissa, and the weight of their combined gazes was incredible. I didn't have to look around to know that the vast majority of them were not looking on me favorably.

“How is your balance?” Sarissa said.

“It's good,” I said. “Relatively speaking.”

“I advise you to keep it,” she said.

There was a sharp pop beneath me as the ice fractured, a series of cracks spiderwebbing in a perfect circle for six feet around me in every direction.

I staggered as the ice bulged, then a pillar emerged beneath me, accelerating with such speed that I was forced onto my knees.

After a few seconds of frenetic movement, the pillar abruptly stopped beneath me, my momentum carrying me up into the air above it. And though I had to plant a hand for balance on landing, I managed to get my feet beneath me.

Sarissa was already standing at the edge of her tower, while a furor had built below, a medley of shouts and curses that were very obviously directed at me.

“Come,” Sarissa said, and turned her back on me.

I got a running start and leaped, easily spanning the six-foot distance between my pillar and the top of the tower. The dome reformed behind me, encasing us in a transparent sheen of ice.

I looked around, eyes widening at the mage's quarters. I'd expected something ornate, borderline regal, but her accommodation was a far cry from that.

The floor was covered in dirty clothes, the space barren but for a few pieces of simple furniture: a small bed set against the far wall, a writing desk to my left. A letter-cluttered nightstand, a dresser. And that was it.

Sarissa sat on the edge of her bed and waved me over. Now that we were out of the public eye, her posture had changed remarkably. She was slumped over, her shoulders sagging. She made a flicking gesture at the space between us, and an icy chair rose right out of the floor.

I sat across from her and waited for her to speak.

Instead, she rubbed her temples and stared down at the floor.

“Are you alright?” I said.

“I'm fine,” she said without looking at me. “Just…tired.”

Another explosion sounded from below, and soon the crackle of magic was all around us. But from where we sat, I could see exactly none of it. And that made me wonder if Sarissa paid any mind at all to the many people seeking her attention from below.

“Seems like a hard place to sleep,” I said.

She sighed. “You have no idea. It never stops.” She looked up at me, and her face, too, had changed. There were bags beneath her eyes that hadn't been there before.

“Do you practice Illusion Magic too?” I said.

A wry grin spread across her face. “You're a perceptive one. I do indeed. Illusion Magic makes for a lovely pairing with ice. And you…you're a curious type.

Shadow Magic and Enchanted Firearms, eh? Not a combination I'd have chosen myself, at least not so early on, but a powerful one in the right hands. Anyway. We ought to make this quick if we're to keep you from being killed the moment you descend my tower. May I see your case?”

“Killed?” I said.

“You'll be fine, probably,” she said. “Just make sure to look disappointed upon taking your leave. You're the first mage I've invited up in nearly six months. And the lot below are a jealous sort.”

“Great, more enemies,” I said.

“Gotta catch 'em all,” Frank said, singing those words in an all-too-familiar tune.

I stifled a laugh and held the case out to her. “You can touch it without issue,” I said, “but the moment you try to open the thing, the runes brighten and—”

Sarissa made a bored gesture with her right hand and the box flashed cold within my grip. I dropped it, shocked by the temperature change, and the case thumped into the floor.

I knelt and picked it up, then tried to open it. And to my surprise, the lid opened with an audible click. I yanked the case apart, but an icy lining crept over the opening, sealing it shut. I looked to the mage, uncomprehending.

“How is he?” she said.

“How is who?”

“Arlann,” she said.

I stared at her. “I…don't know who that is.”

“Of course you do. You're here representing the Vale, yes? With a scroll he desperately needed for what I can only assume will be another stupidly reckless task.”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “But I don't…” I trailed off, racking my brain. “Oh! The captain of the guard?”

“Precisely,” Sarissa said. “Though, to be honest, I find it rather interesting he'd trust you with a powerful artifact but not his name. Perhaps he's grown wiser over the years. That would be a happy, if surprising development.”

“Ah,” I said. “I was wondering why you decided to help me. He said he was sending a bird to Highwater City, but I didn't think he'd have any sway with you.”

“Careful now, fledgling,” Sarissa said. “Sway is a strong word.”

“I apologize,” I said. “Though the captain had some strong words for me before I left as well.”

“Did he now?” she said, brightening.

And that hopeful look confirmed my suspicion, that she and the captain—Arlann—had a surprising amount of history. It also made me wonder if I could leverage that to my advantage.

“And what did he say, exactly?” she said.

“That you'd suffered far more than anyone knew, and that I ought to be kind to you.” It wasn't exactly what Arlann had said—he'd cautioned me to be respectful—but I had the feeling that whatever this relationship was, it was in need of repair.

And in a world where Renown was awarded based on how you changed the world, reuniting a powerful mage with an old flame seemed like a worthy pursuit.

Sarissa drew back and made a sour face. “That doesn't sound like him. That doesn't sound like him at all.”

Okay, so maybe they had a bit more history than I'd realized. “He also threatened to hang me if he found out I'd disrespected you.”

She sighed into a smile. “That's more like it. So, he's well?”

“He's healthy, as far as I know,” I said. “I wouldn't say he's well.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you know, Barbarians at the gates and so on,” I said. “Plus, some pissed off mages who really, really like drinking blood.”

“And yet he still refuses to leave that godforsaken place,” she said. “As if there's honor to be found in protecting a plot of sand in the middle of the desert.”

“He could really use your help,” I said. “Failing that, there's a decent chance the Vale will disappear entirely.”

“My place is here,” she said, and the words came out bitter.

“He misses you,” I said. She looked about ready to respond in anger, so I rolled right along. “He hasn't said as much, and I don't know him as well as you're probably assuming. But he's still grieving whatever it is the two of you had. It's written all over his face.”

“Good,” she said.

I opened my mouth to respond but found I didn't really have an answer to that.

“He's the one who killed it, so I'm glad he's grieving. He could have refused that post. Could have done any number of things, but no, he had to go play soldier based on one of the queen's many, many whims.

God forbid that man put himself first for once in his life. I swear, I've never met someone so determined to be miserable.” She met my eyes, then glanced away, her cheeks flushing.

“Well…” I said, still unsure of what to say.

She rubbed her forehead. “Please, keep that between us.”

“Sure thing,” I said.

“You'd best be off, then. You have your scroll. I hope you find it useful.”

I rose, and the chair melted away beneath me. “There has to be something I can do for you.”

“You don't owe me anything,” she said. “I didn't open that case for you. I did it for him.”

“Still,” I said, “the offer remains.”

She bit her lower lip. “I would appreciate him outliving this latest threat. I have little doubt he'll charge headlong beside you if given half the chance.”

“What if I don't let him?” I said.

“Don't let him?” she repeated. “What standing do you have?”

“None,” I said. “And I'm not even sure he's planning on coming. But I've got forty people behind me, and if it comes down to him offering his aid, I'm happy to reject it if I've got other options.”

“I've already told you my place is here,” Sarissa said.

“I know,” I said. “But there has to be something you can do. Maybe you could make me a scroll to take his place?”

“Scrollwork is a school of magic unto itself,” Sarissa said. “I can't simply create one for you. And even if I could, it would be far too potent for you to use. But maybe…”

“Yeah?” I said, hopeful now.

“Open your box. Let's get a look at what you've got.”

The sheen of ice melted off the scroll case, so I finally cracked it open, immediately inspecting the parchment within even as I rolled it open.

{Scroll of Hastened End}

Quality: Rare

Use: Casts {Hastened End} on a target of your choice. Can only be cast on a target with less than 30% of their total Health remaining.

Charges: 1

Unlike that Combat Resurrection scroll I'd received a bit earlier, I had to look that last skill up.

{Hastened End}

Target takes 25% increased damage from all sources for 30 seconds.

I whistled, surprised at just how powerful that scroll really was. A full 25% damage buff was incredible, and the fact that it required the target to have 30% or less Health before it could be used was pretty much a nonissue; if we were fighting a raid boss of some kind, we'd want to use it then anyway, since that was when bosses tended to enrage and deal more damage. Plus, everyone would have their execute-style abilities—like Soulshatter—coming online.

Sarissa quirked her upper lip. “What a waste.”

“Huh?” I said.

“If you want to make a powerful scroll,” she said, “first you need to create the paper itself. Then you enchant it with the spell of your choice. In this case, the person who created the scroll was far more talented than the mage who enchanted it with Hastened End.”

“So…how does that help me?”

“I can rewrite the spell, to a certain extent,” Sarissa said. “But there will be limitations. The paper's ceiling is still rather low, and the spell I use will have to mimic the effect it's already enchanted with.”

“So the spell's gonna do more or less the same thing, but better? Uh, yeah. I'll take that.”

Sarissa set the scroll aside and met my eyes. “If I create this scroll, I expect you to find a way to keep Arlann out of whatever mess the Vale's gotten into. If I know that man half as well as I think I do, when the time comes, he will offer aid. And declining it could be costly on your part.”

“And if I take the scroll but can't convince him to stay behind?”

“You will be begging for the gallows by the time I'm done with you,” Sarissa said.

I swallowed. That…seemed like a bad time. And though I didn't love the possibility of taking the scroll only to find Arlann unwilling to listen to me, I figured that if the game was presenting it as an option, it had to be possible, at the very least. And the prospect of losing everything I'd built so far was far scarier than adding a mage to the list of people who wanted me dead. “I guess I could always just have someone break his legs,” I said, mostly for Frank's benefit.

To my surprise, Sarissa only sighed. “If only I'd thought of that sooner. Our lives could have been so different.”

I laughed at first, then cut off as I realized she wasn't joking.

“I like her too,” Frank said.

“I know, Frank.”

“Do we have a deal?” Sarissa said.

“We do,” I said.

“Excellent.” She raised the scroll up in front of her face, then tapped it with a long blue fingernail. A line of frost crept over the text, starting at the bottom of the scroll and spiderwebbing its way up.

Sarissa blew on the scroll, and a cloud of frost flew from it like dust. The scroll itself was blank, every last letter having been scrubbed entirely clean, at the sight of which I couldn't help but panic a little bit.

“I'll need quiet,” Sarissa said. “Wouldn't want to slip and ruin your scroll.”

I nodded, but Sarissa gave me a hard look. “Oh,” I said. Then I grabbed Frank out of his loop.

“What are you doing?” Frank said.

I ignored him and steered him toward his sheath.

“Hey. Hey!” Frank said. “I can be quiet! I can totally do that!”

“I do not believe you in the slightest,” I said.

“Nooo, I'll be good, I—” Frank cut off as he entered his sheath.

“There ya go,” I said. I made a gesture as if I were sealing my lips shut.

“Thank you,” Sarissa said. “I find your axe to be rather irksome.”

“I'm pretty sure irksome is what he aims for.”

“A curious behavior for such a powerful artifact,” she said. Then she licked her lips. “That said…”

I didn't like where this was going.

“Would you be open to trading him?”

I blinked at her. “Trading Frank?”

“Is that his name?”

“Yeah, it's the Axe of Unbound Knowledge, aka Frank.”

“How do you get Frank from…” she trailed off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Never mind. I would trade anything for an artifact of that—”

I held up a hand. “Sorry, but Frank's not on the table.”

She pursed her lips. “I see. You are rather partial to him, aren't you?”

“Yeah. He's kind of a dick, but he's my friend, so…wouldn't feel right.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. I respect your decision, though I hope you understand the level of attention an artifact like that can generate.”

“More and more every day,” I said.

“Alright.” She closed her eyes. “This could take a moment.”

I kept quiet because I wasn't sure if she'd already started.

Sarissa sighed, and the chamber flashed so cold it was as if all the air had gone out of the room. I held my breath, not wanting to inhale the super-chilled air and risk a fit of coughing right in the middle of her spell.

I gritted my teeth to keep them from chattering, my whole body trembling from head to toe despite the fact that it didn't hurt in the slightest. Frosty runes iced the floor, and the dome above us rimed over, snowflakes falling all around.

“There,” Sarissa said, and the scroll flared so blue that I had to look away. “Finished.”

I yanked Frank back out of his sheath, and he came out cussing but cut off as he noticed the scroll.

“So shiny!” he said.

I inspected it.

{Scroll of the Arctic Army}

Quality: Epic

Use: Summons an {Arctic Army} that attacks a target of your choice for 2 minutes. Can only be cast on a target with less than 30% of their total Health remaining.

Charges: 1

I inspected the ability right away. Well, tried to. But the description was exactly as vague as the scroll.

{Arctic Army}

Summons an icy force that attacks a target of your choice for 2 minutes. Can only be cast on a target with less than 30% of their total Health remaining.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “That'll do.”

Sarissa squinted down at Frank, then looked to me. “You're sure I can't take that item off your hands?”

I sighed. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

“Is she talking about Frank?” Frank said.

“Indeed I was, Axe,” Sarissa said. “I offered him everything in this tower in exchange, and he declined.” She gave me a sly wink. “He values you, clearly. Anyway, I apologize, but I want you to know this is for your own good. And I very much doubt it will kill you.”

“What is?” I said as I dropped the scroll into my inventory. “What's for my own good?”

“A dramatic exit,” Sarissa said. “I also apologize for the silence. But it's important you seem unprepared.”

“Huh?”

“The mages below will have felt the power I just expended. Best to make them think it came at your expense rather than to your benefit.”

“I still don't understand what you—” I cut off as the domed ceiling melted away above me, huge globs of water splashing across the floor.

The tower groaned, and a circle of ice formed beneath my feet.

“This isn't going to be very fun, is it?” I said.

Sarissa cracked a smile. “Depends on who's watching. Goodbye!” She flicked a finger, and a pillar of ice shot up beneath me like a piston, catapulting me through the air.

I ragdolled up out of the tower, my stomach dropping out as I got a view of just how high I really was. I plummeted down toward the ice, dozens of mages staring in my direction, several of them fleeing the very spot I was very obviously about to impact.

I tried to activate Shadedrift, but I got a notification that said I'd been temporarily silenced—Sarissa's doing, obviously—so I contorted my body, pulled my legs and arms in and covered my head, trying to avoid breaking as many bones as possible on landing. But when I hit the ice, I found it surprisingly thin.

And the water to be shockingly cold. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and my momentum carried me maybe fifteen feet beneath the water, but I hadn't broken anything.

I opened my eyes and looked up at the surface, which was entirely black but for a circle of light, no doubt the spot I'd punched through. But there was a sort of sheen around it, too, where the ice was far thinner than it should have been.

That was probably Sarissa as well, thinning the ice so that it wouldn't kill me. I swam up, still fighting the urge to try to breathe, got both hands on the ice, then tried to leverage myself out only to have the thin sheet crumble away beneath me.

A round of laughter sounded then, intensifying as I tried haplessly to climb out, only to have more ice break away again and again. But eventually it held, and I used every ounce of strength I had to flop up onto the surface, which only made the mages laugh harder.

“Wow,” Frank said. “That was inelegant, even for you. You went like, full walrus.”

“Should have traded you to the damn mage,” I said under my breath.

The mages were crowding in now, many of them doubled over at my misfortune. I gave them a sheepish grin, not at all minding their laughter; I much preferred it to the jealous stares I'd gotten when Sarissa had first descended her tower.

I made my way through the boisterous crowd, earning a pair of slaps on the back as I headed out of The Freeze.

“Well, that officially could have gone worse,” I said as we left the mob behind and the lot of them returned to their useless displays of magical prowess. “Seems like I managed to do something without making a bunch of enemies for once.”

“Yeah, that was boring,” Frank said. “So where are we off to now?”

“Back to the sands,” I said. “You got any info on a good spot to hunt somewhere close to the Vale?”

“None I can reveal just yet,” Frank said.

I shrugged. “Alright, so maybe we kill a couple things on the way and hit level 8. Maybe you'll have some more information then.”

“Maybe,” Frank said.

“Alright, let's do it.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

I slipped inside the inn, but to my surprise, the common room was already full up. The entire guild was awake despite the early hour—it was only a little after seven in the morning—and though many people were yawning or rubbing their eyes and so on, the fact that they were up at all amazed me.

Darling slipped away from a nearby table and headed my way, a puzzled look on her face. “Sorry, I wasn't logged in when your message came in. Just got back in-game a little bit ago. You been up for a while?”

I nodded. “No rest for the wicked.” I squinted. “Well, I guess four hours is pretty mandatory. Four hours of sleep for the wicked.” I shook my head. “Doesn't have the same ring to it.”

“And you say I'm not funny,” Frank said.

“Nobody asked you,” I said down to him, then turned back to Darling. “You see the rested buff?”

“Yeah, it's great,” Darling said. “Thrilled to have that running. Couple of people were talking about that this morning, actually. Some of them rented an inn the night before too but the buff wasn't as strong when they woke up. You notice that?”

“Huh,” I said. “And no, I didn't. I spent a night at an inn, but I—”

“He drank himself stupid and passed out in the common room after murdering a bunch of critters for no reason,” Frank said.