by Paul W Ryan
“Exactly,” the Wiz agreed. “You, Gene, are not of this world. You are not an NPC, but you are also not a Player, either. So, the question remains: what are you?”
“I'm just a guy.”
“Exactly. Only now you're not just a guy. You're about to be a guy with a big sword.”
Gene held up his hands. “Whoa, hey, that a euphemism or trying with the whole hero speech thing?”
“You didn't let me finish!” The Wiz frowned and then softened. “A guy with a big sword about to kill a dragon.”
“Thanks, Wiz. Real motivating.”
“Come, walk with me,” the Wiz prompted again.
Walking again? What the hell is it with wizards and walking and talking?
Gene stood in place, refusing to budge until he could feel Beatrice's fiery stare burning more holes into his back than the dragon ever could. Gene broke into a galloped walk to make some distance between him and the woman who probably used mountains as punching bags.
The Wiz led them down the glowing aisles. Weapons and armour, all shapes and sizes, lined the walls, tracing back as far as his eye could see.
“Pretty sweet, huh?” The Wiz wagged his brows.
“It's all right, I guess,” Gene answered.
“All right?” Beatrice interrupted. “This here is more weapons than any of our worlds will ever see. All for profit without any loss.”
A lightbulb went off in Gene's head.
“This is where you get all your weapons for the store, isn't it?”
Beatrice blanched.
“It's okay, Bea. Tell him,” the Wiz said as he took a seat beside them and puffed on a stereotypical pipe.
Beatrice let her shoulders slump.
“You think I can just leave my store and go acquire these things? You saw how Awesome ruled this world. Fortunately, he is one of the few Players still playing, but there are more like him out there. The Wiz . . . he helps me out. Gives me some supplies here and there. Meanwhile, I . . .”
“Please don't say you two are dating,” Gene said.
“It's not like that. He needs somewhere to hide his weapons in the world and I need the coin. It was his work that turned me into what I am.”
“A witch?”
“I've told you, lad. I ain't no witch. I was the first NPC. Therefore, my code was the earliest, and also the sloppiest, the most corruptible. For me to understand what he was asking, he needed to change my code. He . . . hacked me. But in doing so, he opened my eyes. That's why I was the only one who saw you drop. And that's why we need you.”
Gene took a challenging step towards the Wiz.
“You hacked her?”
“Whoa, Genie Boy. Best not get angry over things you don't even understand. I freed her from the Makers’ Code.”
“I'll free your skull from your face if you don't start explaining!”
Beatrice held back Gene’s hand. Bones crunched in his hand. By the Makers, how strong is she? Gene fell to his knees, wincing in pain.
“The Makers, blessed be their Holy Coding, they gave me fake memories. A life I never lived, a store I never purchased. I'm not even really this old and look at me! They even maxed out my strength as they thought it would be funny!” She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “The Wiz helped me escape this. And for that, I owe him.”
“See?” the Wiz said. “Good guy right here. Told you not to get mad about things you don't understand.”
“This is why you need to stop the dragon, lad. I don't want to be patched. To forget what I really am. The longer the dragon is out there, the longer the world becomes corrupted. And when it comes too corrupted, there is only one course of action left.”
“The Makers delete it,” the Wiz answered.
* * *
“Now you see why this is so important. Why we need you,” the Wiz said. Beatrice nodded beside him.
“Okay,” Gene said. “Let's get to work.”
“Excellent.” The Wiz smiled before gesturing to a display case behind him. “I know just what you need.”
The Wiz opened a display case and pulled out a two-handed broadsword. Gemstones in its hilt caught the light, highlighting the subtle writings into the sword’s blade
“This sword should have all the enchantments you need to face the dragon. But come, you must practice first. Come. Walk with me.”
Gene gritted his teeth. Would it be so bad to jam this sword into the scrawny, jerk's little—
He looked over his shoulder at Beatrice who shook her head and mouthed 'probably a bad idea' at him.
Gene followed the Wiz to a wide, circular area where all the aisles seemed to spread out from. A lone figure knelt in the centre of the almost arena-like nave.
The Wiz gestured Gene forward.
“Go on. Test the swing and stamina required to yield it. You do have a high enough stamina level to yield it, right?”
“Like I told you earlier, bathrobe. Speak plainly.”
“Just pick up sharp object and go stabbie stabbie. Simple enough for ya?”
Gene cocked an eyebrow at the wizard's words. The scrawny man dressed in tattered and ripped clothes in the centre lifted his head.
“Kill me . . .” he croaked. Gene staggered back a step, catching himself in the wizard's chest.
The man in the centre rose to his feet, eyes locked with Gene’s.
“Kill me . . . Please . . .” The man staggered forward, his right leg dragging behind him, closing the distance no matter how much Gene backtracked. The man's face and body were a scarred mess of crisscrossed scars and dried, caked blood. His eyes wild and desperate.
“Don't worry, Gene. He likes it! Don't you, Weeples?” the Wiz asked.
“Kill me!” the man croaked in response, more desperate and wild this time.
“See? Loves it. Give him a stab-a-roo and see if you like the blade.”
Gene paused. “There is no way in hell I'm going to—”
A wet schuuunk filled Gene's ears. He looked down to see his blade wedged deep into the scarred man's sternum. The man blinked, looked down at the blade, and then back up at Gene. Gene let the blade fall free, mouth agape.
“Bah . . . Useless.” Weeples grabbed the sword in both hands and pulled it free. Blood and intestines splattered onto the ground as he hurled it aside and then sulked off to look for something more effective.
“See? Loves it!” the Wiz offered again. The Wiz picked up the sword, wiped it clean with his sleeve, and then passed it back into Gene's hands. “Best not let it drop when you face the dragon, eh?”
Gene took the blade uneasily, ignoring Weeples who was now trying to push some type of burning, bladed hammer into Gene’s hands. The Wiz slapped Gene on the back and beamed. “Now come on, let's get you some armour and then it's fighting time!”
The Unfinished Dragon
Gene shielded his eyes as he experienced the teleportation sensation again. The contents in his stomach smashed against his throat, bubbling over. His eyes felt ready to catapult out of his skull, when at last, the sensation ended.
“Come on, lad.” Beatrice hoisted him to his feet. “No time to waste.”
“Flaghin martith . . .” Gene mumbled as the world spun around him. Beatrice, to his side, steadied him and pushed the broadsword back into Gene's hands.
“Here he comes! Get ready!”
Gene's eyes snapped to focus as he saw Beatrice waving a wide warhammer at an approaching shadow in the sky.
The skies darkened as the dragon began its descent through the clouds.
Okay, Gene. You got this. I mean, it's just a dragon from some 'unfinished' land. How hard can it be to kill if it's unfinished?
Gene tightened his grip on the sword. Not that he had a clue how to use it. He was just a . . . He still didn't even know what he was.
You're not an NPC and you're not a Player. So what are you?
Gene shook the nagging thought away. It didn't matter what he was. He wouldn't be anything if he didn't slay the dragon.
“You sure you don't want to handle this, Wiz?” Gene shouted over the dragon's roars.
“Nah, I'll be blamed for hogging all the XP again,” the Wiz answered. “Besides, your mess, you fix it.”
“Thanks, real helpful,” Gene snapped back.
“Don't worry, lad. We slay this thing and we'll have levels for days!” Beatrice shouted over the din of battle.
“Levels for what?”
Arrows filled the air as the dragon descended. They struck its scaly body, most breaking upon impact. Others stuck, doing little other than irritate the beast further. That's when things got even stranger for Gene. What could only be described as a long red line formed over the dragon's head followed by flashing green numbers in rapid succession.
“What is going on here?”
“We're doing damage! Keep up the assault!” the Wiz yelled.
Gene gripped the broadsword tighter and waited for the beast to land.
More green flashes popped up over the dragon's head as another barrage of crossbow bolts and the odd ballista bolt thudded through the air.
The dragon swooped lower and then landed with an earth-shaking crash. Dust rose up like a wave, blinding the few soldiers still standing their ground. Gene squinted through the tears in his eyes to look upon the 'unfinished' beast. Scales stronger than the mightiest of forged steel covered the dragon's body, almost overlapping its leathery flesh like a knight in armour. It threw its long neck back and screeched into the swirling sky above.
The soldiers on the ground staggered back, for the force of the cry broke what little morale they still had. It lowered its head. Its scales, the colour of scorched ground, blazed bright as an ever flickering flame. Its chest swelled, as though carrying the heart of a volcano inside. The dragon's claws, strong enough to tear open even the sturdiest of armour as easily as flesh and bone, dug deep into the ground. This was to be it. Gene would either live as a hero or die as a fool.
As he was readying himself to strike, a mysterious figure hurled him aside. Gene was knocked to the ground. He shook the stars from his vision to see a lone figure standing before the mighty dragon with his arms held up high.
“Kill me!” the lone figure shouted.
“Weepels, get down, dammit!” the Wiz shouted. But it was no use. Weeples stretched out his arms wide and smiled as an orange glow grew in the dragon's throat.
“Do it!” Weepels yelled. “Do it!”
Gene dove to one side as a wave of flames engulfed Weepels and the surrounding area.
“Weepels!” the Wiz shouted. Gene grabbed the Wiz and pulled him back down as the flames roared all around.
“He's gone. I'm sorry,” Gene said as the walls of flames died out. Tears welled in the Wiz's eyes before he blinked them away.
The Wiz broke free and ran towards the dragon to where Weepel's charred body lay motionless to one side, curled up in the foetal position.
“Weepels, I'm sorry I used you as a test subject. I was just curious was all. I didn't mean to hurt you. Well, much, but—”
The Wiz paused as Weepels' arm twitched.
“Weepels?”
His eyes cracked open, followed by an annoyed frown. Weepels pushed the Wiz off him and leapt to his feet.
“You call that killing me? Come on, I've had candle wax burn worse than that!” Weepels yelled as the dragon's teeth, jagged and as long as Weepels himself, snapped mere inches from his face.
“Weepels!” the Wiz yelled again as the crazed test subject stomped closer to the dragon.
“Come on, scaly balls! You useless overgrown—”
The dragon snapped its jaws down over Weepels' upper torso and hoisted him into the air. Its jagged teeth crunched down on Weepels over and over again in a disturbing fashion like an overgrown scaly dog with its human chew toy.
“Weepels!” the Wiz cried. Gene was about to break into a run until he heard a panicked gasp from behind him.
“Oh no.” The Wiz's voice was full of fear.
Gene spun around to see the Wiz encased in white light like a flashlight from the heavens.
“By the Makers' sacred code, they got him,” Beatrice muttered.
“Wiz, come on! I can't do this alone!” Gene pleaded.
“It's too late, Gene. The Ban Hammer has found me.”
Shock marred the Wiz's face as he was locked in place. “Listen to me closely, Gene. To kill the dragon you just need to—” The skies cracked open and a golden hammer swung down, thundering into the spot the Wiz once stood.
When it rose again, the Wiz was no more.
* * *
Panic held Gene's heart in its icy grip. The Wiz was dead. The town destroyed. Weepels, well, judging by the insults he was still spewing, probably not dead. Gene had caused all of this. If he had just ignored Awesome, everything would be back to normal. All of this could have been avoided.
“Gene, kind of need some help over here!” Beatrice yelled. The dragon stalked closer to her. She swung her hammer in wide arcs to keep the beast back. “Gene! I'm not dying and going back to being a mindless drone again. You promised you wouldn't let it happen to me!”
Gene took a deep breath in and then back out.
This was it. Gene's moment.
He was more than this unfinished dragon. He would not let this world fall apart.
“Don't worry, Beatrice. I won't let that happen. His XP is mine.”
The sword glowed in his hands as the runes activated one by one. His armour, too, shimmered, basking him in a golden light. Gene's feet moved underneath him, a blur of activity as the Boots of Immense Speed powered up.
The world raced around him as he ran, becoming a green and burnt blurred palette. He leapt high into the sky, sword poised to pierce right between the dragon's eyes.
The dragon's maw stretched open, letting a rather annoyed Weepels roll to the ground in painfully slow motion. Saliva dripped from its dark, fleshy, pronged tongue, ready to sink its teeth into a less invincible chew toy.
Gene let a war cry flow from his lips. The words, gibberish, but hell, it seemed all the heroes done it. Might as well be fitting.
Time kept creeping by, to a point where Gene was growing impatient. He let out a sigh. His arms shook with tired muscles. The Boots of Immense Speed may have been a little much. Couldn't have just picked really fast speed instead? Thanks, Wiz.
His stomach rumbled.
Damn, I probably should have eaten something before all of this.
He paused to scratch his nose with the sword's pommel. Sadly, that was the moment the charge in his boots decided to give out. Gene's victory cry grew several decibels higher as he found himself sailing straight into the dragon's mouth.
Meet Your Makers
Darkness assailed Gene from all directions.
Am I dead?
“Hello?” Gene called out to the emptiness all around. “Echo!”
The sound reverberated all around until it faded off into the unseen distance.
“Yep, I'm dead,” Gene said aloud.
“N-not-not exactly,” a voice stammered nearby.
“Holy scaly dragon balls!”
Gene fell onto his backside as a robed figure made himself known.
“Makers' code how I hate you wizards. Don't sneak up on people!” Gene snapped.
“Forgive him, he did not mean to startle you.” Another figure appeared before Gene, startling him again. This one a little more portly around the belly, half his partner’s spindly height, and sporting a neatly trimmed goatee.[PR1]
“Are you a dwarf?” Gene asked.
The two figures looked at one another and then back at Gene.
“No, Gene Eric. We are your creators.”
* * *
Gene's eyes widened.
“You're the Makers?”
“Y-yes, we are,” the first man replied. He fidgeted with the hem of the sleeve of his robes, his gaze glued to the ground. The second man took a step closer and lowered his hood.
The
joy in his eyes beamed as he looked at Gene.
“We've had many great adventures together, haven't we, Gene?”
“Pretty weird way of greeting someone,” Gene muttered. “Yeah, maybe?”
“Think on it, Gene,” the shorter man said.
“I don't remember.” Gene held his head.
“Y-you can remember,” the nervous, still hooded man, stammered.
The dwarf-not-dwarf portly-bellied man nodded before stroking his goatee. “Your memories, our memories are locked inside you.”
“I don't remember, Makers. I don't remember anything since—”
“Since the drop?”
“Yes!” Gene exclaimed. Aside from Beatrice, no one seemed to have commented on it.
The two leaned in close to one another.
“I thought you were testing this world,” Beer Belly whispered, just loud enough to be heard.
“I-I thought you were!” Nervous Guy whispered back a little louder. “You-y-you always forget.”
“Umm, guys?” Gene said.
“Don't worry,” Beer Belly said. “Makers' talk. You wouldn't understand.”
Gene cocked an eyebrow.
The two continued whispering to one another, a little quieter this time. Gene caught some words such as bugs, glitches, broken mess, and commercial failure thrown around before the two fell silent.
“We have come to an agreement. We will help you remember,” Beer Belly said.
The two tapped at the air before them. This time Gene saw it more clearly than with Beatrice or the Wiz. A black screen with green text hovered, barely transparent, in front of the two Makers. They hammered in a series of commands in unison before with a unified smile, they tapped a command Gene noticed.
Execute.
Gene fell to the ground, the pain too much. He cried out as his skull felt like it was swelling, about to split in two. This was it. Execute. Death. He had released a broken dragon into the world seed and corrupted it. They were erasing what Gene had done. Oh, why are gods and/or Makers always so vengeful?
