by John L. Monk
“La-de-da,” I said and marched in.
“Ethan, you made it!” Bernard shouted from across the large well-lit room.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the boisterous barkeep here, but I was. Recovering quickly, I made for the bar. Along the way, I noted the marginally higher-end furniture and better-dressed patrons.
“Why, just look at you!” Bernard said with a fatherly grin. “Powerful beyond measure, an absolute mountain of enemies gunning for you … And in record time, too. Normally it takes a great many years to achieve what you’ve managed in, what? Six months? Here—wait’ll you taste this!”
He shoved a mug of something foamy toward me. I started to protest...
Sudden memories of the dryad had me fighting back tears. To counter it, I thought of my actual loss—of Melody and the happy life we’d had.
We had been happy, right?
Now I doubted even that. After my time under the tree, old joys seemed like dimly remembered shadows.
I grabbed the mug and gulped some down. It tasted exactly like the ale at The Slaughtered Noob, but … Yes, there was definitely an extra bite to it that hadn’t been there before.
I finished it off and looked around at the slowly spinning room while numbing warmth spread throughout my body.
“Wow,” I said, staring sadly at the empty mug. “What’d you put in this thing?”
“A terrifying amount of alcohol,” Bernard said with a chuckle. “You mid-levels have much higher vitalities than you should. Overcompensating, if you ask me. So I have to add more kick to it. Still not as strong as the calibrated stuff you’ll find up high”—he pointed overhead, indicating the city towers—“but ya gotta have something to look forward to.”
I’d almost forgotten why I was here.
“Dammit,” I said. “Bernard, hey—have you seen Rita? I lost her when I was, uh…”
“Fighting the dryad!” he said with a lascivious grin. “You were there for quite a while, weren’t you? Hmm … What a terrible encounter that must have been. Do tell me all about it. And take your time—I’ve got all day.”
I wanted to throttle him. Him and his know-it-all perks.
“Have you seen her?” I said tightly.
“Most beautiful woman in all of Mythian? Lives in a tree? Gone forever? Zillions of former prisoners howling for your blood? Ah, Myrialla! We used to date, you know. Way back when. I had to break it off. Too clingy.”
“I’m talking about Rita!” I shouted.
Behind me, the conversation stalled as people turned to see what the fuss was about.
Bernard chuckled, oblivious to my anger. “She’s not actually gone, you know. The game throws nothing away. She’ll be back in … oh, a few thousand years, I’m betting. But your enemies won’t care. Too long for them to wait. Most’ll probably … Well, never mind that. Best not give you ideas. You’ll get over it, trust me. You’re a genuine hero if there ever was one.”
A low and needy part of me hung on his every word. Bernard was a friendly menace. Here I was trying to close a door and he was shoving it back open.
“Rita?” I said determinedly. “Have you seen her or haven’t you?”
He scratched his black beard in thought, then nodded. “Sure. Months ago. Came back saddened beyond measure. Thought she’d lost you for good. Then … Well, I shouldn’t tell you, but ….” He leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. “She went to The Festering Swamp. I’m prohibited from telling you which curse she chose, but…” Big wink. “Let’s just say she’s over in Ward 2 now, hanging out in some valley with an undead dragon.”
“What?” I said. “Ward 2? Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Oh yes. For some reason, she’s helping the dragon guard Mythian’s newest prize: a magical kiss from the Maiden of Melody! Lots of points, I hear. Not as much as the dryad, but still. Points are points.”
Chapter Forty
After that, Bernard made me another high-powered brew and I got steadily drunker. Any port in a storm.
So much to think about. My wife, it seemed, was safe. Otherwise, Rita wouldn’t be there guarding her. The Maiden of Melody. The game had finally confirmed her existence. Given her a role, as Jaddow put it. But not as a Hero and the rights that went with it.
Rita…
She’d gone to the swamp and taken the Curse of Power, vaulting her to level 500 and dropping her lives to 50. She’d been level 76, last I saw her.
Guarding Mythian’s newest prize…
So yeah, I had some drinking to do. And in the morning, well … I’d have some throwing up to do.
“Eggs, Ethan?” Bernard called loudly across the room when I came downstairs.
I waved him off. The thought of eating was enough to start me dry heaving.
“Er … Ethan,” Bernard said. “Before you rush off again … a word?”
I paused halfway to the doors, then thought better of it and joined him at the bar. He often had useful information, and there was an oddly serious note in his voice.
“Yeah?” I said
“Hair of the dog?” he said, waggling a frothy mug, sloshing ale down his hand onto the impeccably clean bar top.
“Huh? Oh. I said I’m not—”
“When are you going to open the chest?” he said, eyes shining with excitement.
“What chest?”
Bernard looked at me flatly.
“Oh,” I said. “That one. I dunno. Figured I’d check later. Why?”
He lowered his voice. “Myrialla has been alive since the first day of Mythian. She is, was—and will be again—incredibly powerful. But as talented as I am, for the life of me, I can’t figure out how you survived such an encounter. Perhaps it speaks more to your … hmm … some quality you brought with you from your world. Or some detail of this world long hidden from me. Whatever the reason: you survived, and you won a chest.” He tapped his head. “My Quest Master perk told me so. It also informed me that what’s in that chest is among the most powerful objects in all of Mythian. If I were you, I’d claim it now, while you’re still safe in Heroes’ Landing.”
In all my conversations with Bernard, never before had he seemed as serious as he was now. It spooked me a little. He seemed so incredibly real—truly sentient. Which, of course, he was. My guess was his personality quotient was higher than anything permitted in the real world.
“Thanks,” I said. “I just figured it was gold or something.”
Bernard snorted. “Hardly. Whatever’s in that chest is a game-changer. Take my word for it.”
After thanking him again, I left the Mediocre Marauder and went to the bank.
“You should see your face!” Lord Snoot, the bank manager, said. “Haha, I have another one. You’ll love it! Ask if you look fat in that shirt. Go ahead.”
“Snoot, I really don’t have time to—”
“Go ahead. It’s funny!”
“Fine,” I said tiredly. Anything if it got me out of there quicker. “Do I look fat in this shirt?”
Snoot covered his mouth, shaking with mirth. “You look fat in any shirt! Get it? Because you’re fat!”
Unable to contain himself, he howled with laughter.
I faked a chuckle and nodded. He’d been telling jokes for the last twenty minutes and I still hadn’t opened the chest. I needed him gone.
“Okay, Snoot,” I said. “I really need to finish my bank business. I’m already late. Next time I’m here, I’ll tell you some new jokes.”
At first, he seemed saddened by the dismissal. But at the possibility of new jokes, his face brightened considerably.
“You sure?” he said.
“I promise.”
“Ranger’s honor?”
“Cross my heart and hope to resurrect.”
Lord Snoot giggled, leaned in close, then gasped in horror. “Dear lord, what’s that?”
He pointed at a spot on my jerkin. When I looked down, he flicked my nose, laughed like a lunatic, and vanished.
> “That’s just weird,” I whispered.
Summoning the chest was easy: all I had to do was think about it forcefully. I did so, and a jet-black treasure chest of some dense wood appeared in the middle of the room. When I checked the Perks section of my character sheet, Summon Black Treasure Chest was gone.
“Simple enough,” I said.
Despite needing to hit the road, I smiled.
Growing up, we never celebrated Christmas, Halloween, or tooth fairies. Unlike everyone else’s parents, mine were far too enlightened for anything like childhood traditions. Not that I was neglected. Quite the opposite. If I wanted something, they’d give it to me immediately. So long as it wasn’t a dog…
Looking back, I sometimes wondered why they even had me. Duty to humanity? They weren’t all that dutiful, except to themselves. Nice enough parents, sure, but mostly because they were always occupied with what they were into at the time. Hobbies, politics, parties … There was usually something going on, and it almost never involved me.
Staring at the shiny black treasure chest felt almost like a do-over. Anything could be in there. Maybe I’d love it, and maybe not. Either way, it was a fascinating mystery.
“A game-changer,” I whispered, echoing Bernard’s words.
After a quick look around to ensure Snoot wasn’t snooping, I ran my finger against its cool smoothness, stretching out my Mythian Christmas as long as possible.
The chest opened easily on well-oiled hinges to reveal a golden acorn on a red velvet cushion. Exquisite, the way it glittered in the rune-light … Looped through the stem was a simple leather cord. An amulet, then.
I reached down to pick it up, and when my fingers touched the precious metal, I swooned.
Chapter Forty-One
Sensual waves of paralyzing bliss dropped me to my knees hard enough to have hurt, provided I wasn’t smothered in endorphins. Nearly the same feeling as I’d had under Myrialla’s tree, except for one important detail: I was more in charge of my faculties, a slave to nothing but my desire to hold onto Myrialla’s Acorn (so-named on the inventory page of my character sheet).
Reluctantly, I let the amulet slip through my fingers to dangle from the cord, and the feeling vanished.
“Wow,” I said, staring at the muted world around me. “That was something.”
The stats on the amulet were impressive, and they remained in effect whether I touched it or not:
Item Name: Myrialla’s Amulet
+100% Vitality
+100% Intelligence
+100% Agility
+100% Strength
+500% Comeliness
Major Perks: Perpetual Novocain
Flags: No Loot, No Steal.
Description:
The owner of this amulet feels no pain, simply by wearing it. Touching the amulet invokes Myrialla’s Caress—a feeling of supreme happiness and joy without all the nagging and messy cleanup.
Caution: Cast aside at your peril! Hell hath no fury like an acorn scorned. But just in case you’re a typical guy and can’t take a hint: never, EVER, drop this acorn.
One thing the designers were wrong about: I may have been a man, but I was great at hints. I had absolutely zero intention of dropping it after a warning like that.
“Scorned,” I said, turning it over.
So many things seemed off about this amulet, and not just the warning. The sexist language—so missing from the modern world—was particularly surprising.
For decades, the government had outlawed any form of discrimination, real or implied. So-called “equality” was enforced not only by opportunity, but also by outcome, and biological consideration of differences was strictly prohibited. This had led to a crisis of paranoia among professionals that quickly paralyzed all aspects of public life. In response, the government added exceptions for doctors, scientists, and law enforcement—and themselves, of course. Wouldn’t want to run afoul of their own rules while legislating new ones. For everyone else, cookie-cutter equality was the law of the land.
Every land except Mythian, apparently. The reason was obvious. With no official way for players to complain, the developers had free reign to do as they pleased. If my fate didn’t hang so heavily in their hands, I might have found the license refreshing. But they’d put that awful dryad in the game—as a joke. Which meant they considered my life a joke, and everyone else’s, too.
Careful not to touch the amulet, I slipped the cord over my head and analyzed my sheet. Yep—I’d received a massive increase to all my stats. Comically, my 1 in comeliness had vaulted to 5.
Now that I was level 435, I had an awful lot of free points to divvy out. I quickly applied them, with most going to intelligence. On a lark, I chucked 10 into comeliness, popping it to 11. With the amulet’s help, the modified value on my sheet jumped to 55. When next I saw Melody, she wouldn’t be underwhelmed by incredible homeliness.
Then there was the matter of that perk. It had its own entry in my character sheet:
Perpetual Novocain
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but absolutely nothing can hurt you. You’re immune to pain, see? You don’t feel it—ever. Heck, with enough health points, you could put your hand in a fire before bed and let the smell of roasting pork carry you gently into sleep. Amaze your friends and family!
Oh, that’s right, everyone you ever loved is probably in some other retirement world. Proof, if any were needed, that they never really loved you.
Too soon?
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head at this latest escalation in the designers’ sadism.
Of all the benefits the amulet gave, it was this perk that interested me the most. After my many experiences being burned and beaten—and whatever Greenie Red had done with that pocket watch—I fully realized how awful my existence here could be. Anything that could blunt that reality was a welcome benefit.
Next, I considered the amulet’s two flags: No Loot, No Steal. Interesting that it couldn’t be stolen or looted.
The stat increases were amazing, but all I could think of was that insidious final attribute: Myrialla’s Caress.
After a moment’s hesitation, I touched the tip of my finger to the acorn—then snatched it away as the opiate effect stole over me.
Heavy stuff. Dangerous stuff.
For now, I tucked the amulet inside my jerkin and over my undershirt. Having it flop around bumping my skin wouldn’t help at all when I challenged the Ward 2 guardian.
I’d heard a lot about the guardian while adventuring with Rita. Tough as hell. And big. The manual suggested players be at least level 300, but most people recommended higher. At 435, I had little fear of losing. It probably hit hard, sure, but I had access to a much stronger shield now. To deal with its health pool, I had newer offensive spells, though not as many as I would have liked. Whole swathes of spells at a time were grayed out, accessible only through adventuring.
For now, I loaded up on whichever Mighty spells were available to me, as well as any non-series starters that looked powerful.
Another advantage, and one I hoped to leverage: divination. I could sniff out the champion’s weaknesses and finish it quick. Yes, all things considered, I’d do fine.
But first I had to deal with Greenie Red.
The sadistic two-toned assassin caught up with me about ten miles from the bridge to Ward 2. I was riding my new horse, Bingo, under the protection of Mighty Shield. An upgrade from Major, and Greater before it.
“I see you’re a stupid sort of person,” Greenie said behind me.
His horse’s hooves, when he trotted around to block me, made no sound at all.
“Hi, Greenie,” I said.
“Hi yourself,” he said. “Didn’t I tell you not to level? That I’d know if you did?”
Greenie was a diviner, like me. Hard Mode. So I couldn’t tell his level without discerning him. Same went for him.
“How’d you know?” I said.
“Told you before—a rare spell.” His eyes wid
ened and he laughed out loud. “Oh my goodness … Please tell me you didn’t put a bunch of points in comeliness! From the looks of it, a lot. But wait, hold on. How many times did you level?”
I didn’t answer.
“Let’s see…,” he said, scratching his chin. “You’ve already done the Trial. No other speed-ups in Ward 1. What’d you do, kill a baby dragon and level three times? More? No matter. Still not gonna save you.”
His truth orb confirmed there were no other ways to level quickly in Ward 1, or so he believed, and that he thought I couldn’t have leveled more than a few times.
“Greenie,” I said, “before you kill me, I gotta know: why’s your horse so quiet?”
“Magic horseshoes,” he said.
“Naturally.”
“Now look,” he said, “the Sigil says I gotta torture you every time I kill you. But we’re on speaking terms now. Polite to each other. If you promise not to say anything, I won’t do it. Deal?”
“No deal,” I said, touching my bottomless bag, which held my gems. “You wanted the job, you do the work. If you don’t, I’ll tell the first Crimson asshole I see that Greenie Red’s word is crap. Tell me I’m lying.”
Greenie shook his head in disgust. “Man, you’re a dummy. Fine. Here comes mana swipe.”
His expression grew strained, as if lifting something heavy. Then he gaped at me in horror.
“My perk …,” he said. “It only works if I’m higher level. Which means…”
“Yep.”
Greenie was even faster than Rita. His hand blurred, and now he held his pocket watch. He flicked it open and the world turned a sickly shade of green. Unlike last time, I didn’t fall over in agony. Instead, I spent the flawless ruby I’d purchased shortly before leaving the city.
“Trapzich,” I said, summoning my brand-new 2nd Order demon, available to rank 102 diabolists. “Seize him!”
