by Ed White
As the rumble of the blast fades, six Faer monks arrive, met by the Trovain Battle Avatar. I recognize the monks from Lisa’s talk. Thin, with long silver hair, the Faer are elven ley priests, weaving intricate spell patterns in the air around them. Each ley priest is dressed in glowing, elaborate robes, with crystal projections erupting from their backs, foot long shafts connect them to five-foot diameter spheres spewing energy. At the center of the circle of ley priests is a large crystal sphere protecting a meditating monk sitting in the lotus position. They must be here to close the hole in the sky—to cut off the Scythe Warriors. Maybe this isn’t a battle royale or game error, I might be watching a Battle Avatar quest.
The ley priests are already hard at work weaving a beam that manifests above the SX/GN monk’s crystal sphere, striking the roiling portal above.
Defending the ley priests and monk, the Trovain Battle Avatar deflects the combined energy arc blades of a renewed Scythe attack with a shield bubble that smokes around him and the gathered ley priests. Above them, the beam woven by the Faer unravels and falters.
The energy attack wanes, leaving a canyon around the combined shields of the Thunder Lord and ley priests.
As the smoke clears, the twelve Scythe Warriors crash into the Trovain Battle Avatar, trading blows that sound like thunder, releasing crescents of crimson plasma and arcs of lightning that gouge the ground around them with devastating explosions.
Lightning erupts from the Trovain Battle Avatar’s thunder lance, cascading across the battlefield, striking stone and Scythe Warriors alike. The Scythe Warriors dead, the weary Trovain backs toward the shields around the monks.
Visibly shaken, the Battle Avatar plants his thunder lance into the glass-fused ground and draws ley energy into the weapon. His mana levels restored, he fires a torrent of lightning, tens of feet thick, directly into the Scythe Boss. The Scythe’s shields deflect the bolts back to ground, scouring the landscape into further, impossible ruination.
Man, this is some serious shit.
Despite the efforts of the ley priests, the portal of torn sky widens, revealing rainbow-hued strands of light and banks of golden clouds beyond—a forced gateway into other Lenscape realms? Whatever the truth, energy twists and weaves from the assembled ley priests, as the meditating monk glows bright within his crystal sphere, powering the central font, attempting to close the gateway. The energy mingles with the widening portal above.
Hovering high above, arrogant and ascendant, the Scythe Boss takes notice, releasing his second AoE attack. The Trovain Battle Avatar braces against it even as three of the six ley priests fall, their spheres exploding as the blast breaches the shields on their side. Cracks and shards of crystal shear off the sphere of the meditating monk and their weaving font of energy falters a second time, losing its contact with the widening gateway above.
Spent, the Trovain Battle Avatar falls and the surviving monks are alone and vulnerable.
My vision blurs and goes black.
Shit, this is the good part! I must be respawning. Pain sets in, an ache in my back and across my chest. My left arm tingles and pinches along my forearm. The hell, am I having a heart attack back in the real world?
Light floods in, brown and full of splotches. No, not splotches, mud. My teeth and head pulsate. Have I respawned at the battle instead of the Haven? If there’s a game hack or a bug going on, that’s enough reason to explain my cinematic vision too. As I push up with my arms, I see them between the splotches of mud—my hands and forearms are encased in polished crystal armor, crimson armor.
CIXIC armor.
Hot damn, I’m inside Stalem’s body! Somehow I’ve jumped avatars. Instead of respawning at Haven, I’ve taken control of the red Battle Avatar. Maybe the player lost his connection or this is an error, but I’m here. I can fight and help the monks.
Crawling out of the crater, I take in the scarred battlefield around me. The fallen Trovain Battle Avatar is surrounded by dead Scythe Warriors, the sphere around the monk shattered and three of the ley priests dead.
Above us, the Boss begins a third AoE attack.
Realization slaps me hard. The Labyrinth of Quad. Brains over brawn. This is about strategy—it’s more important to keep the Boss away from the ley priests, so they can close the gateway, than it is to defeat him outright.
I hope.
On instinct, I throw up my arms and a blast turns the ruined sky a deep violet between the scarlet flame of plasma and the blue of the sky above. The Scythe Boss takes the impact, driven in an arc across the vault of the heavens and through the side of an already shattered sky island. What must be a fifty foot chunk of the atmosphoid explodes as the sky island falters and several more gargantuan slabs calf away, collapsing into the verdant jungle with catastrophic destruction atop the fallen Boss.
While I marvel at the power at my disposal, a lone ley priest raises a hand to me. He must be talking but I’m not hearing anything.
Then I do, the sound of metal on rock. I spin and tackle a damaged Scythe Warrior, tumbling back into the crater. Gripping his faceplate, I release a blast, ending our fight. But, even within the Battle Avatar, looking out of these borrowed eyes, no stats display.
ERROR!
Whatever. Another few thousand XP to me.
I’m immediately glad I didn’t say that out loud, as I roll off the dead warrior and see the ley priest at the rim of the crater six feet above me.
“Our plex beam is failing.”
What do I say to him? Admit who I really am and don’t know what a plex beam is?
He leans on one knee. “You have to carry me into the portal. I will act as an anchor for our plexing beam so that we may close the gateway.”
So I’m right: the hole in the sky is some sort of gateway, and must be a game challenge only Battle Avatars are meant to play out. Somehow, I’ve entered into the elite levels of Lenscape, in someone else’s game. This ley priest dude must be an NPC fulfilling his role. If I help close the gate, it must be tied to defeating the Boss.
Hovering up and over to the ley priest, I take a look at him and the huge tech-sphere connected to his back. How the hell am I supposed to carry him?
Hugging the ley priest, face to face, I fly toward the portal. Thank goodness Jonesy’s not here to see this. We reach the hole in the sky even as rubble from the fallen atmosphoid stirs in the distance, followed by the rumble of an earth tremor.
The ley priest and I watch as some two miles away, the OP Scythe bastard emerges above the ravaged jungle, his own crimson energy roiling around him as dust and debris set off his shields. He looks so small at this distance, but I quake in my borrowed body no less.
“He’s coming for us.”
The ley priest points at the Boss. “We must close the gateway. Use your vortex-casting to disable his shields and end him.”
He wants me to tank the boss. Great.
Still hugging the ley priest, I look between the beam, and the gateway. “How do we do this?”
“Place me into the beam. It will suspend me via my sphere as my fellows and I close the gateway.” He grips my helmet with a strength I’d not expected. “Hold the Boss until we close the gate, we mustn’t be interrupted. Once you’ve disabled his shields, use your Ouroboros blade to end this and destroy the Boss.”
Nodding at the ley priest, I kamikaze across the distance as the Boss prepares an AoE attack. Crescents of crimson plasma swirl around and into him, rising from the ravaged ground, almost as if he’s drawing blood. If he fires, the monks will fall and the gateway will only widen further, although I don’t know what happens then. If I survive, it won’t be for long and then the Scythes win, and I lose Jonesy’s claim to the labyrinth on my first day.
Hesitation costs me, hitting the Boss Scythe’s shield bubble, his AoE is interrupted by my borrowed body. I take an unknown amount of damage that feels damn severe, collapsing on the muddied ground.
ERROR!
Covered in mud, I breathe heavy as the Scythe
Boss laughs his distorted, metallic taunt.
Something in me snaps, born of frustration, anger, and anxiety. This overpowered prick reminds me of the crap I put up with every day. Reaching over my back as I saw Lisa do, I try to unsheathe the Ouroboros blade.
ERROR!
Nothing. The damn thing is locked away in its dimensional pocket.
Firing instead with my raised palms, I do little against the raised shield bubble of the Boss.
ERROR!
That bitch slap of realization strikes me again.
Use vortex-casting. Focus the twisting power of a vortex.
In…sight…
ERROR!
Slamming my hands onto the field of force, I release a focused reality-bending vortex, just as the ley priest instructed.
Vile Vortex…
ERROR!
The Boss Scythe’s armor cascades with arcs of lightning as his shields strain under the assault. Blackened dark red blisters erupt like sunspots, across the face of the shield bubble, as the vortex punches through the field, twisting the Boss inside his self-imposed prison.
Struck by the energy released from the compromised section of shields, the armor of the Boss bubbles and explodes as his remaining force shields fail with the destruction of their source and a horrific screech.
As the corpse of the Scythe Boss falls to earth, I look down on the Trovain Battle Avatar and remaining ley priests.
Hot freaking damn, I did it. A bazillion XP to me.
As crazy as this all is, things go nuts with a calamitous roar and a sickening screech like metal on metal. All around, the ruined lunar-like landscape ripples and twists, as cords and threads of golden and rainbow hues weave together out of the once blue sky and earthen jungle—a bad acid trip of frayed reality rewoven. Following the weave of sparkling lights, strange humanoid creatures skitter and crawl, gnawing on the remnant detritus. Naked, slick and dark in color, I can’t help but think of kobolds or goblins.
With tremendous quakes, the shattered bedrock and darkened sky shimmer and unravel, as a rainbow weave of light strands burst into view, crisscrossing the damaged landscape radiating out from the cracked crystal sphere of the SX/GN monk and surviving three ley priests. At the center of the maelstrom of mana-weaving, the monk blazes with energy.
Among the elven ley priests and humanoid critters, there’s an Asian man in robes, with polished metal shoulder guards and chest armor. His hood, down across his back, reveals his black, shoulder-length hair brushing against the thick collar of his armor. He notices me noticing him, but I feel other eyes on me, like someone looking over my shoulder—a presence.
My vision blurs and doubles, darkens, and I’m ejected from the crimson Battle Avatar’s body. Disembodied, I float staring at my glowing blue hands raised before me and the Battle Avatar hovering in front of me.
The Battle Avatar, Stalem, sees me, and a great unease twists within my translucent ghost guts.
“Oh shit.”
The polished crystalline helmet cocks to one side. “How did you do that?”
I stutter.
“Speak up, noob, how the hell did you hack my avatar?”
“Noob? The hell is your problem? I just helped…”
Stalem reaches out and grabs my arm. He actually grips my ghost form!
“How did you hack the system?”
“Feeling jealous? I’d say you’re the one who couldn’t ‘hack’ it. Once you dropped your connection I had to step up to the plate. Seems I did everyone a favor.”
Stalem pulls me close. “You’re one of the hackers.”
“The hell are you going on about?” I wave my other arm in an arc. “This was a hack? Well I wasn’t the one, brother.”
Before Stalem can counter, the fractal wave washes over us in a blaze of kaleidoscopic light.
Chapter Five
The smells of ozone and bacon fill my nose as I come to. Some side effect of gameplay? Jonesy is across from me in his recliner, still within the game, probably at Haven, with his disgruntled group members.
Character
Unknown.
Attributes
Unknown.
Abilities/skills
Unknown.
Weapons
Unknown.
The hell? I blink. The popup is gone. Was it even there?
Removing the forehead jewel and headgear, my arms feel heavy, shaking with any fine movement. My wash of relief on entering the game is snatched from me. I grunt, the weight of the world upon me once again.
Sitting for a short while, thoughts of returning to work in the morning creep into my mind as they always do. Dread, frustration, irritation, resignation.
“Ugh.” I rub my right hand. The skin’s red on the back, and as I look away, for a sliver of a moment, a ghost image of a glyph floats on my retina. Raising my hand closer, it’s gone, but for that faded, neon-like afterimage as I blink. My wrist aches and I can’t help but think of Stalem’s grip. Rubbing my eyes, I run my palm over my face. Lenscape. Even with Captain Arrogance, those intense few hours turned me into a Lenscape fan.
With that thought, I rise unsteady and head for the door. Flipping the lock, I test the knob and pull the door shut behind me. Turning, I try the handle again. With the door locked, I shuffle along to my car in the twilight of early evening. Am I safe to drive? Will I fall asleep at the wheel? I think of Dream Walkers, do they drive? I look at my car keys, actually at the lock button thingy, and glance back to Jonesy’s house. I’ll take it slow.
***
Kicking off my shoes, I shuffle into my apartment’s five-by-five foot kitchen and study the dismal contents of my fridge.
“Damn it, should’ve raided Jonesy’s before I left.” Still in the game when I headed home, how could Jonesy stop me? That recognition tingle of savory foods seized the sides of my tongue. Leftover chicken and a few vegetables remain my only choices, compared with any number of take-homes from his restaurant job. All those choices and I’m left with chicken, broccoli, and carrots.
My stomach aches and as is often the case, not from hunger. At least there’s none of the usual accompanying nausea. I’d enjoyed the escape from those pains while playing Lenscape.
Pulling out a frying pan, one of two I own, I pour Greek vinaigrette into it, emptying the bottle.
Gotta go shopping tomorrow after work—I can’t forget again.
Dumping the leftover chicken breasts and veggies into the pan, I add salt and stir for a few minutes, browning the meat and greens, allowing the vinaigrette to caramelize…well, to burn, really. I’ve picked up a few tricks from ol’ Jonesy.
Scraping the concoction into a fresh plate, I pour myself some coconut water and sit down in the living room. I say living room, but really there are four rooms divided by thin walls. The kitchen and living room on the left as you enter the apartment, and the bathroom on the right, immediately as you enter, past a small closet, followed by the bedroom. The hallway between the bathroom and kitchen ends at the kitchen wall separating it from the living room, with the kitchen open to the walkway. Not bad for single living, or even a young couple. The building, though, is old, the walls are, as I said, thin, and the rent climbs each year, while the state of the place continues to decline.
Life. Decisions. The monotonous routine. What was worse, grinding in the Lenscape or IRL? At least in Lenscape I don’t feel like crap all the time, and Jonesy said they’ve researched the health benefits derived from the game. Could Lenscape help my condition?
Realizing I’ve held my breath, I breathe out, and go through the whole martial arts technique of breathing with your gut and lower back muscles.
A fleeting relief.
Looking back on the evening of gameplay, the last thing I remember is the creepy red Battle Avatar booming at me like an arrogant prick. I don’t recall logging out. Why did I wake up without doing so, and to that point, why didn’t my UI offer me an option to respawn? Jonesy was logged into the game when I left his house. How did he
and the other group members leave the battle? Weary, I settle on calling him in the morning, asking how things went. Turning my flat-screen on, I choose some reality TV, Galacom nonsense, while chewing on the rather surprising taste of my meal. Kudos to me.
***
A procession of knocks wakes me. My neck’s stiff, from sleeping slumped in an awkward, chair-induced angle. The television is watching me. The insistent, rapping of the knock again. Pausing to place my plate and utensils on the kitchen counter, I call out to my visitor.
“Alright, I’m coming. Who is it?”
“Mr. Grey? I represent the Lenscape division of the Conglomerate?”
A woman’s voice, from the people who run the Lenscape. Interesting. Jonesy’s one stubborn fella. Sending me game gear in the middle of the night?
Opening the door, I raise my free hand. “Look, I’m sure the walk up here was a pain, what without the elevator…”
Caught in mid knock, the young lady drops her hand to slap against a firm, muscled thigh. She’s not the delivery person I’d thought of. She wears a fitted grey pant suit, modest heels, and a silvered blue blouse with a hint of cleavage, her reddish-brown hair tied back in a low ponytail.
“Mr. Grey? I’m from the Conglomerate for Gaea’s Greater Good, and I represent our Lenscape division.” Her chocolate eyes study my topaz peepers with measured patience as she presents a thick envelope. “Inside are legal documents and information about the Lenscape.”
“Legal?”
Wagging the envelope, she points with her left hand. “And an invitation. May I come inside for a few moments?”
The familiar creak of my neighbor’s door confirms that old man Morris has been disturbed, rising from his nest of fishing magazines to listen in on my late-night visitation.
