“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which question?”
“Why are you videoing me?”
“I am not videoing you. I am merely collecting footage from the security cameras which you have installed around your home.”
Emerson took a deep breath as he rinsed his hands, then splashed water over his face. “Wait…I didn’t tell you to wake me up today, anyway. So please prune whichever of your adaptive networks decided it was a good idea.”
“Oh. It wasn’t my decision,” Mini-Veia said. “A message arrived for you. Seeing as it came from Bradley Williams, CEO, I thought it would be best to rouse you.”
Emerson grimaced, looked in the mirror at his puffy face dented by red lines from his pillowcase, and grimaced harder. He focused on his Entwined implants’ interface and re-enabled notifications. There was indeed a waiting message from the E-Squared CEO, but it was flagged as unimportant.
“Did you miss the part where the message is missing the urgent flag?” he asked.
“Do you really think that I would examine only a portion of the data? Of course I saw the priority. But I also know that Bradley Williams believes everything coming out of his mouth is of utmost significance. I believe his choice to forgo applying that flag is a test to see how important you find him.”
Okay, so that was a semi-interesting insight for an AI who couldn’t be trusted with the air-conditioning setting. Sometimes he wondered whether Mini-Veia’s relative incompetence at smart-home adaptation was a clever disguise for the AI’s secret hobby of tormenting him.
He had to wave his hand in front of the sensor to turn off the water—evidence of yet another failed adaptation. Despite finally learning his preferred temperature, Mini-Veia still hadn’t caught onto the morning pattern of “wash hands, splash face, leave bathroom.”
He pulled up the message from Bradley, superimposing it over his vision.
Emerson. You coming into the office today? Wanted to chat when you have a chance.
Wait, today? Was Bradley serious? Emerson glanced at the clock in the corner of his vision, bringing up the calendar to be sure. Yes, it was definitely Christmas Day, which was the reason he’d asked Veia to deactivate his alarm clock in the first place.
Of course, it wasn’t like Emerson had anything special planned—the afternoon video call to his parents wouldn’t take long, especially once they started asking if he had a girlfriend yet, and he found an immediate excuse to disconnect. He’d kind of been planning to finally create a Relic Online character, figuring that most people with lives would be offline and hanging out with their families or something. Not that the other players would know that the incompetent first-level character getting trounced by a field mouse was actually the programmer of the creator AI. But still, better to get the worst of the mistakes out of the way without an audience.
Especially since that audience might include Devon.
He stared at Bradley’s message for a while, trying to figure out what to say. The CEO’s decision to leave the Zaa AI active really bothered Emerson. Sure, the implant patch had been rolled out, freeing players from Zaa’s influence. But the AI was so evil. According to Bradley, that was a good thing. It gave the players purpose in the world—an ultimate enemy to defeat.
But Emerson couldn’t get Devon’s description of the Trial of Ruthlessness out of his head. She’d passed the test by trickery, using her abilities to make Zaa think she was torturing—physically and psychologically—a pair of low-level players. As far as Emerson was concerned, the AI’s desire for such things didn’t belong in any game. It was too close to what real-world monsters yearned for.
Heading into the office might mean an extra chance of success in convincing the CEO of the lunacy of the decision…if Bradley were sane when it came to Penelope’s AI. But seriously, on Christmas? And anyway, what had made Bradley think Emerson would be unoccupied today? Emerson’s lack of a social life wasn’t that obvious, was it?
Still, he was tempted to respond that he’d be there. But maybe this was a chance to correct any perception that he was a nerd with no social life.
“Pretty much booked for the rest of the day,” he said aloud. As his implants picked up the speech, the text appeared in the messenger prompt. “Holiday stuff, you know. Raincheck?”
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Emerson sent the message and shuffled to the kitchen to dig up a meal replacement bar before logging in.
***
Okay.
Go time.
Emerson pulled the lever to shift his chair into full recline mode. Settling into the upholstery’s faux-leather embrace, he took a deep breath. As he hovered his awareness over the Relic Online icon, his pulse started to race. He rubbed his fingertips against the palms of his hands, a stupid nervous gesture. It wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced the game world before. No reason to be so anxious.
Except that he’d borrowed a game master’s avatar to log in last time. With the ridiculous arch-wizard’s robes and the superpowers granted by the GM interface, it had been easy to hide his ineptitude. When he didn’t know something, all he’d had to do was wave his hands around in the air and impress people with the sparkling trails his fingers left behind. Literal hand-waving to cover his incompetence.
He already knew what his real in-game character was going to look like, having gone through the character creation process. Which, he had to admit, was pretty snazzy. His star players hadn’t been given the option to customize their avatars—apparently Veia had wanted to throw them directly into the deep end—but Emerson had been able to direct the system to create him as a tall and—if he were honest—fairly handsome guy. Muscular without too much bulk. He hadn’t been able to see beneath the simple cloth garb, but he was fairly certain that tunic concealed an impressive six-pack.
But yeah, no amount of flashy-fingers was going to make up for his new character’s cloth garb, insignificant powers, and general bewilderment.
Regardless, he wasn’t going to grow past the “n00b” phase—he was proud to have picked up that little term on the forums—by sitting in his chair and staring at the ceiling. He needed to get in there and play. Everyone had to learn sometime, right? And it wasn’t like he would spawn anywhere near Devon or the other players he’d recruited for the game—they were far away from the areas the game had designated as newbie zones. The only way he’d wind up anywhere near Devon would be by asking the game masters to teleport him. Which he didn’t plan to do until he could fight without falling on his own sword.
Okay.
Go time.
For real this time.
Emerson swallowed and activated Relic Online. His condo vanished into blackness.
His senses woke to the new world one at a time. First, the trilling of birds filled his ears. Next, he felt the sun on his skin, grass beneath his palms. Emerson opened his eyes.
He squawked at the sight of four humans bent over him.
“At last,” said a man in white robes.
“Our first.” This from a guy that looked like he’d just walked out of a battle with a misbehaving semi-truck.
“But whose, Aravon?” a woman said with a faint curl of her lip. “Who will take him on? To be honest, I’m not sure he has the making of an offensive fighter. Even at this level of experience, I’d expect at least some sort of reflexive reaction to his surroundings. He’s just lying there.”
The fourth person, a woman in a scarlet tunic with silver thread, raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Given the need for Intelligence or Charisma as a foundational attribute, I’m not sure he’s cut out for casting either.”
Emerson blinked and sat up. Of all the undignified entries into the game, why had Veia decided to spawn him flat on his back? And who were these jerks? He half-expected the greeting committee to laugh as he planted a hand in response to the head rush from his sudden movement.
But all thoughts of the rude greeters vanished when he caught sig
ht of the scene behind them.
The all-too-familiar scene.
Scrambling to his feet, Emerson searched the nearby surroundings for some sort of cover. What had happened to the whole “player starting city” thing? The only person who had spawned in Stonehaven before today was Devon. And that wasn’t even true! She had actually spawned in the middle of the ruined city to the north.
So what the hell was the big idea with dropping him into the world right beside the Shrine to Veia that Devon’s people had constructed? Was Veia trying to embarrass him? It wasn’t like he could pretend not to know the people who lived here—not if he ever wanted to admit his true identity. For the time being, he’d set his character name to “Valious,” thinking that it was similar enough to the word valiant to describe his intents for his character, but with a unique fantasy flair. Especially if he could manage to earn a title like “the Brave.” He’d heard those were things.
He’d kind of hoped that Devon would be impressed with his creativity once they finally met up. But a level 1 character named Valious? Didn’t quite have the same feel. And he was fairly sure he’d be doing more fleeing than valiantly standing his ground. Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the name was trying too hard.
He pulled open his messenger app and grabbed the contact for Darren, one of the game masters. New at the company, he probably wouldn’t object to Emerson’s request for special treatment.
“Can he not see us?” the heavily armored NPC asked. “Hello?”
The woman in dark leather waved her hand in front of Emerson’s face, breaking his concentration on the messenger prompt as he was trying to figure out the best way to word his request. If it seemed too suspicious—especially if it sounded like Emerson was trying to pull rank—the GM might decide to ask a manager. And then it might get around the customer service department. The last thing he needed was a bunch of people hearing about the request. Better to just live with the name.
Emerson dispelled the messenger interface and clambered to his feet. “Yes, I can see you. Who are you?” He tried to look past the group to see if any of the villagers he’d met while using the GM avatar were nearby.
The woman in the scarlet tunic glanced at her peers—he noticed what looked like pointy ears sticking from her hair—and then took a small step forward. “I’m Lira the Incandescent, Master of the Casting Arts. These are my fellow trainers. We’re here to help guide your development as an adventurer in this realm. Are you ready to begin your training?”
Emerson grimaced and shook his head. “Aren’t I supposed to…I dunno…seek you out or something? I seriously just logged in. Just trying to get my bearings here.”
The trainers shared a glance, and then the man in the white vestments shrugged. “You guys heard the chime, right? Isn’t that supposed to be our summons?”
The others nodded.
“Valious,” the man in heavy armor, Aravon, said. “The realm needs every sword it can gather.”
When Emerson focused hard on him, a popup appeared.
Aravon the Valiant - Level 20
Tier 1 Defensive Fighter Guildmaster
You have gained a skill point: +1 Combat Assessment
When used on allies and creatures that view you with a friendly disposition, you can perceive far more information than you would when examining an enemy.
Flicking his awareness to banish the popup, Emerson blinked. “Okay. But I just want to walk around for a while. Get a feel for the place.”
Aravon blinked, but then his face seemed to brighten as if he’d remembered something. “Well, in that case, perhaps you could start equipping yourself.”
Aravon is offering you a quest: Gear Up Part 1
Before taking on the plague of vermin besetting Stonehaven (yes, there’s a plague, and yes, you’ll need to help deal with it), find yourself a weapon.
Objective: Visit Dorden in the forge and see if he can spare you a sword or mace.
Reward: 500 experience
Accept? Y/N
“Uh, okay sure.” Emerson focused on accepting the quest, and the popup vanished.
Aravon bowed. “Then be at your task. Perhaps we shall speak again soon.”
Nodding, Emerson sidestepped around the group then headed for the path leading from the shrine to the center of the settlement. As his feet—damn…why was he barefoot?—hit the cobblestones, he heard one of the women mutter, “Do you think we’re being overzealous? It’s my first time at this, but after what happened at Eltera City, I can’t help but feel we need to put forth the utmost effort.”
Emerson sighed, hunched his shoulders, and hurried down the footpath.
Chapter Seven
CHRISTMAS. AS SOON as she’d left Gerrald’s workshop, intent on grinding out some skill points and stuck with only her thoughts for company, the recollection of the date had forced its way back into her skull. Right now, kids were opening presents and families were heading to church, and people were…what…mainlining hot chocolate and singing carols? And meanwhile, her body was lying in a dingy apartment. Alone.
Curling her toes in frustration, she shook her head. Time to focus. Take advantage of the alone time. Today was the best day of the year for character maintenance. Solo quests. Skill grinding. Best to maximize the time.
Of course, it would have been nice to hear back from Hailey, but the woman’s messenger contact had remained stubbornly inactive. Glancing again at the grayed-out icon, she shrugged. It was probably for the best. The whole “misery loves company thing” had never really made a lot of sense to her. And anyway it wasn’t like she had to spend the holiday alone. Tamara’s family had church or chapel or whatever they called it through most of the morning, but they had invited her to dinner. Devon had thanked them and declined. Soon, she would have plenty of time with Tamara in the game. Too soon, actually. She really needed to get ready for her friend's arrival. And anyway, the last few months had been difficult for the family, and she figured Tamara’s parents would want some time alone with their daughter.
Anyway…grinding. If she maximized her time today, she could gain a few skill points and still have time to start sorting out Tamara’s in-game mountain bike.
With that in mind, she opened her character sheet.
Character: Devon (click to set a different character name)
Level: 23
Base Class: Sorcerer
Specialization: Unassigned
Unique Class: Deceiver
Health: 403/403
Mana: 606/606
Fatigue: 6%
Attributes:
Constitution: 28 (+6 Stonehaven Jerkin)
Strength: 17
Agility: 21 (+4 Gloves of Deceit)
Charisma: 46 (+4 Big Girl Pants)
Intelligence: 29
Focus: 17 (+1 Gloves of Deceit)
Endurance: 27 (+1 Big Girl Pants)
Unspent Attribute Points: 4
Special Attributes:
Bravery: 10 (+3 Stonehaven Jerkin)
Cunning: 7
Dignity: -1
Devon smiled at the sight of her attributes. Finally, the game had added an option to show where the bonuses were coming from.
As for the unspent attribute points, she could spend them at any time, so she decided to wait until she learned more about the coming challenges. The real work today would be on her skills and maybe on her ability mastery. She opened the skills tab and focused on the list of stats that were still at tier 1.
Tier 1
Tracking: 9
Stealth: 2 (-1 Tiny Sparklebomb Backpack of Sub-par Holding)
Sprint: 8
Bartering: 6
Unarmed Combat: 3
Manual Labor: 7
Foraging: 1
Animal Taming: 1
Foreign Language Learning: 2
Felsen Language: 1
Orcish Language: 8
Climbing: 8
Okay, so maybe seeing the source of the bonuses—or in the case of Stealth, the debuffs—wasn’t quite so pleasant after all. Devon shook her head at the reduced score. Maybe she should just give up on being sneaky. Embrace her mastery of the Orcish tongue and Manual Labor.
Of course, the ability to dig ditches wouldn’t help when the demons came. It wouldn’t even help if she someday got the chance to play the game like a normal person, delving dungeons in search of loot, questing for glory and reputation, building a settlement so she had somewhere to store all her treasure…
Yeah, that would be nice.
Anyway, Stealth. Banishing the character screen, she stepped close to the nearest scarecrow and tried to get all of her body into its shadow.
“Nice pose,” Shavari said as she appeared from behind a garden shed.
Devon looked at her outstretched hand. She’d been trying to get her arm fully into the shade of the scarecrow’s outstretched limb to meld with the shadows. Apparently, it hadn’t worked very well.
“Just stretching out some stiffness,” Devon said, rolling her shoulder.
Shavari raised an eyebrow in a dubious expression, then shrugged. “I’ve been meaning to catch you alone,” she said.
Devon nodded. “Likewise. I don’t suppose the fifth relic is somewhere in your backpack…”
Shavari chuckled. She’d recently rewarded Devon with the Ironweight Key, the fourth relic needed to take control of Ishildar. Apparently, Shavari’s order of Veian clergy had been guarding the relic for centuries, having taken possession of it when the last members of the vassal society controlling the relic had fled the rise of the Noble Sea. The item description said that the key would unlock the Vault of the Magi inside Ishildar. Whatever and wherever that was…
“No, but I may have some ideas on where to find it,” Shavari said. “But there’s another matter, which I think deserves some thought first. The awakening stones…”
Vault of the Magi: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 5) Page 5
