(^_^)
After I’ve used my rope to tie the bearded man to a tree, Deathdale, Lothar, and I gather around him, ready for answers.
Deathdale has already made her opinion known; she isn’t the “spare his life” type of gal, and if there ever was a time for the bearded mercenary to mind his Ps and Qs, now would be that time.
Wolf has made his opinion too. He stands near the road, looking back and forth to make sure there are no hostiles approaching.
“Who sent you?” I ask the man for the second time.
The bearded Player Killer sucks up some snot and hawks a loogie onto Deathdale’s boot.
“Oh, dude, you really, really, shouldn’t have done that.”
I step aside as Deathdale removes her black glove and brings her hand to the man’s face. He struggles to get away from her and twists his neck back and forth as her fingers spread wide, her palm planted directly over his eyes.
Her white hand glows red.
“Fuck! Fuck!” he shrieks as his eyeballs sizzle. The stench of burning flesh makes Wolf’s nose twitch. He barks at about the time Deathdale removes her hand, leaving a handprint from the bridge of the bearded man’s nose to the top of his forehead.
His eyeballs completely nonexistent, the man cries hoarsely for a moment about how he can’t see. His cries morph from shock to anger.
Lothar, who still has a tiny arrow sticking out his chest, clears his throat. “Please, let’s not torture him.”
“Fuck you, you stupid fucking giant! Kill me, you big piece of shit! You filthy fucking NPC!” The man spits. “Do it, bitch!”
I’m not quite able to “take Lothar aside” and go over the finer points of torture with him, if there are finer points. Instead, I look up at him and bring one finger to my mouth, letting him know Deathdale and I have this under control.
Lothar starts to speak but stops and looks away as the smell of burnt flesh meets his big nostrils. He dry heaves for a moment and excuses himself.
“Good,” I say after he’s wandered off to the other side of the road to vomit. “Surprised it took him that long.”
Deathdale shrugs as she places her glove back on.
“So, what would you like us to burn next? Or are you ready to talk?”
“You can’t do this!” the bearded man seethes.
“Can’t do what? Torture you? How’d you get to be a level-eighteen Player Killer without familiarizing yourself with the finer arts of torture?”
“I have nothing to say to you. Kill me now and let’s be done with this!”
I look to Deathdale and smile. “You attacked us, and therefore, you deserve whatever death comes to you. I see two options on your horizon: one involves me killing you now, allowing you to take a new avatar if you so choose and more importantly, allowing you to logout. The second involves me cutting away your limbs and leaving you tied to this tree, allowing the animals to naturally pick you apart until you die. This could take a while.”
“You’d … you’d do that?”
“We will,” says Deathdale.
“Where’s the giant? Giant!”
“Stay back, Lothar,” I call over my shoulder. I move in closer to the man, who now sweats bullets. “What will it be?”
He gulps. “What … what do you want to know?”
“I already asked you the one thing we want to know. Who sent you to attack us?”
“No one! We were just trying to rob merchants!”
“Bullshit. We hardly look like a group of merchants. Besides that, we have a fuckin’ giant with us. Only an idiot would attack a group with a giant. Let alone a man with a Tagvornin wolf and a Solar Mage. Last chance – why?”
“We were paid.”
“Clearly.”
“You can have the lira,” he says, “all of it! Just don’t leave me here to die.”
“Tell us who sent you now.”
“It … ” He swallows hard. “Stater. They did it through backchannels. We didn’t meet anyone related to the Stater government. That’s the truth, honest.”
“And how do you know it was them?”
“Because of the lira. You ever seen the way they transport lira in Stater?” he asks, blood dribbling down his lips and getting lost in his beard. “They wrap it in sea fruit husks. Pretty good indicator. Didn’t ask any questions about it though.”
“So you believe Stater sent you?”
He nods.
“Got any more questions?” I ask Deathdale.
She shakes her head.
Instakill!
Infamy + 1!
Bonus attribute point received!
Level up!
The bearded merc lets out one final gasp as he slouches forward.
“Hold on,” I tell Deathdale as I pull my Splintered Sword out of the man’s gut. My stats come up and I quickly go to work.
Oric Rune
Class: Level 15 Player Killer
Subclass: Level 4 Herbalist
INFAMY: 50 Players killed
HP: 1678/1945
HP recovery rate: 3% per minute
ATK: 218 +90
DEF: 196 +69
With four attribute points to assign, one because of my Player Killer bonus and the other three from the level up, I decide to bring MIND up by one point, STRENGTH by two, and WILL by one, which because of my ring, also gives me an added point in DEXTERITY.
Attributes
STRENGTH: 14
WILL: 14
DEXTERITY: 14
MIND: 12
SPEED: 12
I notice a change almost immediately. My mind expands further and as the galaxy of my thoughts settle, my veins pulse with an inner fire lit by the desire to see to the Obelisk’s wish and my own personal quest to their completion. I also feel a sense of anger towards Governor Talonas. Why is he suddenly so anxious to see me die?
I step over to the man’s shield.
Armor: Electric Shield
Grade: B
Weight: medium
Def: +37
Special: Charged with electricity, activated when held.
“Definitely keeping this,” I say as I turn to Lothar. Deathdale stays back a moment longer, watching the bound merc bleed out.
(^_^)
Lothar sits on his knees, his big fingers pressed around the arrow, which even with its small size, has still caused a good amount of bleeding.
“Do you want me to pull it out?” I ask him.
He looks away from the arrow and nods. “I’ve never been shot before.”
“I hate to say that you’ll get used to it, but, um, you’ll get used to it. This is barely a flesh wound because of your size, but you are a bit of a bleeder,” I tell him as he lowers towards me. “I’m not climbing on you either, so you’ll need to lower even more.”
“Okay.”
“Once I get it out, I can whip up a salve of some kind, although this would be like someone throwing a dart at me. Sure, it stings, but it’ll heal; you don’t need to go to a hospital or anything.”
Wolf approaches Lothar and the giant sticks his hand out. Wolf sniffs it for a moment and turns his head back to me.
“Can I pet him?”
“Um…” I consider their sizes and nod. “Sure, go for it, but wait until I’ve pulled the arrow out.”
I get both hands on the arrow, remind him to look away, and using my legs as leverage, I yank the arrow out.
“Ouch.”
“That didn’t sound like it hurt,” I say as I snap the arrow in half and toss it away.
“It didn’t. Well, it stung a little.”
“You can pet Wolf now, but just use your finger. I don’t want you crushing him.”
“I’d never do such a thing! And before you ask, yes, most giants have accidently killed animals, people too. I did, when I was younger. An animal though, not a person. I stepped on a sheep. Poor guy. In my hometown of Tael, if a giant mistakenly kills a person, it is no longer considered accidental manslaughter.”
&nbs
p; “What is it considered?” I ask as I look up at him.
“Just accidental, that’s all.”
“This is why most sane people don’t visit Tael. At least in Tagvornin there are rules and there’s the giant district.”
“You’ve been?” he asks, his eyes filling with curiosity.
“This isn’t my first rodeo, not by a longshot.”
“I see.” Lothar stops petting Wolf, then looks to the dead bodies across the road and back to me. “So did the man give you the information you wanted before you killed him?”
“We wouldn’t have killed him if he hadn’t.”
“And correct me if I’m wrong … He would have been tied to that tree, unable to logout until he died, correct?”
“Sort of. It’s why he told us what we needed to know.”
He considers this for a moment, his eyes fixed on me through his oval glasses. “What happens in your world if a person can’t log out and they don’t have some sort of life support system? This is something I’m very unclear about.”
“Are you familiar with NV Visors?” I ask.
“Neuronal Visualization Visors. Yes, I’m quite familiar. I mean, I’ve never seen one in person, obviously, but I have seen sketches and diagrams. The amount of information we have available in the Occult Athenaeum is awe-inspiring.”
An image of the great room of forbidden records flashes across my mind’s eye. The Occult Athenaeum has books and scrolls that go from floor to ceiling. It is a place of wonder, knowledge, and exclusivity. “If a person is stuck in the game because of something like what we would have done to the bearded guy – leaving him here, tied to the tree – their NVA Visor will turn off after a six-hour cycle.”
“Then why wouldn’t he just wait it out?”
“Good question. One answer is he doesn’t want to lose his avatar. Now this guy, that wouldn’t be the case, but a six-hour wait tied to a tree would go by very slowly. And he’d likely endure an animal or two picking at some of his limbs, which would be painful. He won’t get to a hospital unless someone happens by. Then again, look at this mess of bodies. Most Unigaeans would move right past.”
“But if he were patient, then he’d be forced to logout.”
“Correct, and still lose his avatar. Remember, that’s if he’s not diving here using something like a dive vat. In that case, it would keep him logged in twenty-four hours, which would really suck, especially if he were tied to a tree and consciously getting eaten alive. This is one reason people give up on Unigaea pretty quickly. Further, the NPCs do not understand this. They even have a term for a person going mad while trying to logout.”
“Sufferers of Tommy-Rot,” Lothar says. “And to be clear, a dive vat is the full-immersion tank?”
“Yes.”
“Is your body in a dive vat?”
“It is.”
“Do you like it?”
Rather than answer him, I call over to the Solar Mage. “You about ready?”
Deathdale now stands with her back to the man, eating a small burrito-like item. Just seeing her eat makes me hungry, so I go for a little jerky and before I can pop it in my mouth, Wolf comes around and tries to snap it out of my hand.
“Hey!”
I toss him a piece and the big Tagvornin puppy gobbles it down.
Chapter Thirteen: Wake Up
Lothar never seems to shut up. As we travel further north, and as the temperature continues to drop, the giant explains everything he knows about everything he knows, talking constantly for our entire five-hour walk, and asking as many questions as he can conjure up regarding the process of diving to Unigaea.
The only sound other than his talking and my responses is of the wheels of his meditations box rolling on the road.
“ … And that’s what I use my dashboard for,” I tell him as we come to another public camping space. Night is upon us, and the crimson sky has turned to the deep shade of coagulated blood. The air is nippy, crisp in a way that reminds me of Chicago in November. None of the moisture, but the chill is there.
Several ravens lift into the air as Lothar comes to a stop. They take refuge in a copse of trees to the west, cawing loudly and snapping their beaks.
“Interesting.” Lothar looks around for a place to rest his feet. He gives up pretty quickly, and sits on the ground with his legs crossed. Once he’s settled, he pulls his meditations box next to him, opens it, produces a giant-sized sheepskin canteen and drinks from it. “I believe it will be cold tonight, and there may be snow. We should build a fire.”
“We will definitely do that,” I tell him, “after we find something to eat.”
His stomach grumbles.
“Yes, you too,” I tell him. There’s something juvenile about the scholarly giant, something I’ve noticed in many of the academics of Solidus – most have never had to work a day in their lives, nor face the hardships of the common folk of Unigaea.
“I don’t know how to hunt.”
I laugh. “How were you going to get all the way to Solidus without food?”
“There are a few families that live along the Western Splits who host communal dinners at night. I’ve befriended them, and planned to stop there.”
“Got it. You gather firewood and stack it there,” I say pointing next to the fire pit. “Deathdale and I will hunt.”
Deathdale turns to me and gives me a look that tells me she doesn’t like being volunteered for anything. Her frown thins and she equips a form-fitting fur coat. I glance from the fur to Wolf.
“Tagvornin wolf fur?” I ask her.
She nods.
“That’s a little inappropriate,” I joke.
Deathdale shrugs.
“You forgot to cover your legs,” I say as she moves past me.
“It is interesting watching people equip things, don’t you think?” asks Lothar as I turn away from him. “No one questions when Player Characters such as yourself pull things out of thin air. The rest of us can’t do that. We just accept it. I believe it is wired in us not to question or wonder about things like that. There’s another phrase I’m fond of: No questions asked, no answers questioned. It seems we’ve been programmed.”
“Where’d you hear that quote?”
“A book written by an unknown goddess.”
Wolf yawns and collapses onto the ground. I drop next to him and scratch him behind the ear. “I know you’re tired, boy. Just rest and let me take care of dinner tonight. Keep an eye on the giant too; make sure he doesn’t step on you.”
He looks up at me, concern in his eyes. “Don’t worry.” I scratch behind his ear just a little more. “I’ll be back with dinner before you know it.”
I join Deathdale at the edge of the forest. Once I have confirmation from her, we press into the woods, dipping under some low hanging branches. The woods are quiet, murky, dire. The fact that the sun is setting doesn’t only adds to the darkness before us.
“I hope you don’t mind Lothar.”
A halo illuminates above Deathdale’s head.
“Is that a joke?”
She smiles at me. “Lothar is fine.”
“He’s chatty, but he means well. He could come in handy, especially with hard-to-reach places. Okay, dinner plans: I’ll chase something out, you kill it.”
She nods and I brandish my Splintered Sword, certain I’m currently carrying a wild look in my eyes. My hand tight around my sword’s grip, I press forward into the dark forest.
Something wet touches the exposed part of my arm. I move past it as quietly as possible, step into a small puddle, and keep on going. I slowly creep through the thick forest until Deathdale’s halo is a soft beacon behind me.
Something moves to my right.
I stop dead in my tracks.
It moves again, and whatever it is, it sounds big. One big gulp in and I just barely manage to get out of the way as a bear slams into me from the side.
The bear roars and throws its claws out, connecting with the back of my neck. My dash
board flashes, the blackness of the forest accented by sparks of red.
Rage.
My muscles pulsate just as the bear tries to broadside me again. My vision pane constricts and my heart explodes in my chest, blood rushing to my extremities.
RAGE!
I bring my Splintered Sword up just in time and connect with its incoming paw.
-164 HP!
It cries out. Scurries back into the darkness.
I breathe heavy now, seething as power and fury roll over me in waves. Nothing is as it seems. Darkness be damned, I can hardly focus on anything, even with the handicap red outline of the bear throbbing on my vision pane.
Every noise of the forest comes to me until I hear the brush move behind me.
“Arggh!” I go to meet the towering bear as it comes at me on its hind legs. I bring my Splintered Sword against its thick flesh, sending a trail of blood into the air.
My heart is a sledge hammer in my chest, my sword an extension of my rage, my movements the gallop of wild horses. I breathe heavily as the bear moves away, dragging its injured paw against the soil.
The hunter becomes the hunted.
I charge after the sound and slam my shoulder into a tree, completely oblivious to the pain. Swiping my sword before me, blind with an uncanny rage, I cut through shrubbery and leap over fallen tree trunks as I pursue the terrible creature.
In a last-ditch effort to survive our encounter, the bear whips around with its claws extended.
It connects with my chestplate and I’m tossed backwards into a patch of bramble.
My agility completely takes over what little bodily control I still possess. I hit my back and flip forward onto my feet. Pressing off my heels, I slam into the bear and dig my blade deep into its gut.
-97 HP! Critical hit!
Its head next to my shoulder now, the furry beast roars, spit flying out of its mouth.
We collapse together and I roll on top of it, digging my blade in deeper.
Hello, Chicago. I stand on the small beach closest to the Navy Pier. A man in a swim cap swims towards me, his form cutting through the glistening waters of Lake Michigan. My feet in the sand, I take a few steps closer to him, trying to recognize his face.
Where have I seen you before?
The sun is a glowing orb in the sky. My veins fill with ichor as it approaches me, its vibrant light warming my face.
The Drachma Killers (The Last Warrior of Unigaea Book 2) Page 12
