by E K Baxter
The voice was sweet, alluring. Max almost gave in. Almost let the power of Dark wash through him, almost let it take him.
But some stubborn part of him resisted. He’d never given in to the temptation of a dark alignment and he wasn’t about to start now. He glanced at Nightshade where she battled with Kalrick.
How did she withstand it? How did she stop the Dark from consuming her?
She didn’t, the voice whispered. She embraced it. As you must. Look at your pathetic friends. So weak. So powerless. Would you be like them? Pathetic worms grubbing in the dirt? Kill them. Kill them all. You have the power. Give yourself over to the Dark and you will be victorious. You will be all-powerful. None will stand in your way. Do it, Max. Become who you were born to be.
Max bared his teeth, his lips pulling back in a rictus snarl. Yes. It all made perfect sense. He was here to win the game. That’s all that mattered. Sam, Terra, Nightshade, Kalrick. None of them were important. Only winning. Only that. They were in his way. He should kill them. He should obliterate them all and take his rightful place as master of this world.
He raised his gauntleted hand. Power crackled and fizzed along it. He pointed a finger at Sam who was standing with his back to Max, oblivious.
Sniveling fool, Max thought. He deserves to die.
No! A voice deeper within cried. He’s your friend!
Memories flooded him: of the first time he’d met Sam. Of them sneaking into Myrlind together, of the countless times Sam had saved his neck.
Max squeezed his eyes shut, a battle raging inside him. The Darkness was threatening to overwhelm him. It pounded through his veins, shattered his thoughts, made thinking all but impossible. Easier to give in. Easier to let it have its way.
No, he thought. No. I’m Maxwell Jones. And I don’t abandon my friends. Maybe I would have once. Not anymore.
He howled, pressing his hands to his temples and collapsing to his knees.
“No!” he bellowed. “I won’t do it! I won’t!”
Slowly he beat the Darkness back. With a gargantuan effort that felt like it would stop his heart and burst his blood vessels, he resisted. He pushed back the Dark power of the gauntlet, tamed it, mastered it. The surging of his blood abated. His pulse normalized. The voices in his head fell silent. Max slumped forward, resting his head against the cool stone of the cavern floor.
It took a moment to realize someone was shaking him. Terra was speaking urgently by his ear.
“Max! Max! Are you all right?”
He opened his eyes to find her leaning over him, her face worried. Sam stood a few paces away, guarding them with shield and mace held ready. Max drew in a deep breath, passed a shaking hand over his face. The gauntlet still shone with power and he could feel it in the back of his mind but this time it was muted, under control rather than trying to control him.
“Yes, Terra,” he said, surprised that he meant it. “I’m fine.”
You have mastered the Elemental Gauntlet. Its alignment has changed to: neutral.
Skill unlocked: Elemental Gauntlet: White Heat. Fires jets of white hot energy.
Skill unlocked: Elemental Gauntlet: Fire Rain: Rains down fireballs on your enemy.
Max climbed to his feet and faced the Devil’s Gate. Slowly he walked towards it until he stood less than an arm’s span from the vortex within. He reached out and pushed his gauntleted hand into the maelstrom. It sunk into the swirling energy as though it was a pool of stagnant water and where it touched the other side, his hand disappeared, as though it had been cut off.
Visions assailed Max. He was standing on a high, rocky outcrop. Below spread a vast plain, blasted and barren. Cracks marred the surface of the plain through which noxious gases escaped. The sky above was blood-red and winged creatures whirled high above. A hissing, growling sound filled the air and Max looked down to see that the outcrop was covered in creatures. Like Agiel who possessed Kalrick, they bore wings, pale skin, and fire-pit eyes. They were limitless, seeming to stretch to the horizon. They looked up at Max and he could feel their hatred. Their hunger.
“Who are you?” one of them snapped. “What are you doing here? You are not our master.”
The creature started up the slope towards Max brandishing a trident of black metal. Its barbs dripped with blood.
With a gasp, Max tore his consciousness back through the portal and into the cavern. He’d seen enough. He had to close the gate. He had to stop any more of those terrible creatures coming through.
He activated the gauntlet, chose White Heat. Its energy built quickly, sending tendrils of lightning up and down Max’s arm. Where the power hit the vortex it fizzed and crackled, sparking angrily. Max waited, sweat slowly dripping down his forehead as the gauntlet reached full power. He would only have one chance at this—he had to get it right the first time.
A shout of rage came from behind him. “No! Get away from the portal!”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Kalrick glaring at him from across the chamber. The man was covered in blood and his weapons dripped with gore. His face was contorted into a mask of hatred and fury. He was trying to move towards Max, his steps slow and ponderous, a wall of acolytes between him and Max. On the other side of the room stood Nightshade, her hands pressed to her temples and her eyes closed. Her lips were moving but she was too far away for Max to make out any words.
A battle of wills was taking place between Kalrick and Nightshade, both fighting for control of the red-robed acolytes. At the moment Nightshade appeared to be winning as the acolytes still blocked Kalrick’s path, but it was taking a heavy toll on Nightshade. Even as he watched, she gave a little gasp of pain and slumped to her knees. A group of acolytes broke away from the main group as Kalrick seized control of them. They spun on their heels and came pelting towards Max, weapons raised.
Max fought the urge to defend himself. The gauntlet wasn’t yet at full strength. In his place Sam and Terra stepped forward to meet this new wave of attackers and the clash of weapons soon filled the air.
Max forced himself to turn away, to focus on the gate. The gauntlet was almost at full strength. He knew this would wipe out his mana, leave him vulnerable to whatever attack came from behind, but he pushed that fear out of his mind. Closing his eyes, he released the gauntlet’s power.
A wave of fiery energy exploded outwards—and into the Devil’s Gate. As it struck the swirling energy of the vortex there was a great explosion that rocked the room and the floor heaved, throwing Max onto his back. The fiery energy of the gauntlet poured into the vortex filling the space beneath the gate’s lintel, mastering it, bending it to Max’s will. With an almighty groan, the last pillar that fed power to the gate collapsed into rubble.
“No!” Kalrick screamed. “What have you done?”
Tendrils of darkness suddenly snapped out of the gate, like the ones that had trapped Nightshade but this time they had a different target in mind: Kalrick.
The tendrils wound around his body and began dragging him across the ground. He fought. He slashed and swiped at them with his weapons, he kicked and punched and spat, howling curses and threats but the power of the gate was relentless. Kalrick was dragged, kicking and screaming up the steps to the gate, passing mere inches from where Max sprawled.
Kalrick looked at him, his eyes crazed with fury and madness. “You think this is over?” he spat. “You think you’ve won? Fool! This is just the beginning!”
Then, with a last heave, the tendrils dragged him into the swirling vortex of the Devil’s Gate. It flared brightly and Max saw Kalrick outlined in it for a moment before it winked out of existence. The lintel suddenly broke in half, the two parts crashing to the ground feet from where Max lay, sending up a huge cloud of dust. The red-robed acolytes, no longer animated by Nightshade or Kalrick, fell to the ground and lay still.
Silence descended. After the cacophony of battle, the quiet seemed deafening. For a long moment Max just lay there, stunned, unable to quite believe that he was alive. His mana was 0. His
HP was at 6% but he was alive.
And the Devil’s Gate was destroyed.
He pushed himself to his feet, his tortured muscles groaning, pain shooting through almost every part of his body. He staggered a few steps then raised his head to look around. Figures appeared through the choking dust: Sam, Terra, Nightshade.
Congratulations! You have vanquished the demon Agiel and saved the province of Theloria! One of the six provinces of the Rogue Lands is now free. All of the Rogue Lands rejoices and toasts the name of the True Worlder!
Congratulations! You have received 500 gold. Don’t spend it all at once!
Congratulations! You have received item: The Claw of Destiny. The claw was once part of the Staff of Syrithia which was used to vanquish the demons of the Abyss. Now its pieces are scattered across the Rogue Lands. Only with the staff can the darkness of the abyss be kept at bay. You are now the Claw’s keeper. Guard it well!
Max examined The Claw of Destiny. It was a small silver statue of a hand. The hand was slim and long fingered, with one finger crooked as though beckoning someone closer. It had a protruding piece at the bottom that suggested it was designed to slot into something else. Max didn’t think much of it as a piece of loot. What did he want with a piece of an old staff?
He tucked it into his inventory and then turned to his friends. Sam and Terra grinned at him through the grime and sweat covering their faces. They were at 2% and 6% HP. Nightshade looked pale from blood loss and the gash across her cheek from Kalrick’s whip looked red and angry, possibly infected. She was at 4% HP. But she smiled too.
Max nodded, unable to find the words. They’d done it. They’d won. The Devil’s Gate was destroyed, Myrlind freed from tyranny. A wave of euphoria swept through him and he felt a great stupid grin spreading across his face. This was why he was a gamer. That thrill of a quest completed, of trials overcome.
He punched his fist into the air. “Yeah! We did it!”
The others followed suit, each of them whooping and laughing. Then they came together in a group hug, all smiles and laughter—even Nightshade.
The sound of someone clearing their throat caused them to break apart, automatically equipping weapons and dropping into fighting stances.
“There will be no need for weapons,” said a figure standing on the far side of the room. “I have not come to fight. I have come to congratulate you.”
Max stared. It was Eric. He wore the same dapper suit he’d been wearing the first time Max had met him in that alleyway in the real world. His hands were clasped in front of him and a bright smile lit his face. It made him look much younger.
To Max’s astonishment, Sam and Terra gasped, their eyes widening, and then they both went down on one knee.
Max glanced from them to Eric and back again. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Don’t you know who that is?” Sam whispered urgently. “It is Horion, the greatest hero the Rogue Lands has ever known.”
“He sacrificed his life to beat back the demon hordes,” Terra added. “And in doing so gained ascension. He is the guardian angel of the Rogue Lands.”
Max looked at Eric. He didn’t look like much of an angel to him. He looked like a university professor.
Eric waved a hand. “There is no need for that. Please, stand.”
Eric, Horion, or whatever the hell his name was, approached Max and laid his hands on his shoulders. “I knew you could do it. I knew I’d chosen well in you. Congratulations, Maxwell. You are a hero. Your story will be told in Myrlind for many years to come. I thank you on behalf of the people of Myrlind, of the province of Theloria and the whole of the Rogue Lands. We owe you a great debt.”
Max shook his head. “I didn’t do it to be a hero,” he replied, surprised at his own words. When had that happened? “I did it to help my friends. And to get home. So what now?”
Sam, Terra and Nightshade came to stand beside them. Eric looked over them all. “Now the next chapter of Theloria’s history begins. We need a new governor now that Lord Mespar is no more.” Eric looked at Sam whose eyes went very wide.
“Me?” he spluttered. “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m deadly serious,” Eric replied. “Who better to lead the city than the man who helped save it? The people will flock to your banner once they hear what you did here today. Do you accept?”
Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. “I...um...okay.”
Eric smiled and turned to Terra. “And he will need a new First Minister. Fancy the job?”
Now it was Terra’s turn to look shocked. “I...I...don’t know the first thing about leadership!”
“Oh I don’t think that’s true,” Eric replied. “You managed to keep Sam and Max in line. Neither of them would have made it to the end without you.”
Max nudged Terra. “No more serving trolls in bars for you, eh?”
Terra nodded, still looking stunned. “No. I guess not.”
“And what about us?” Nightshade demanded. “Can we go home now? I’ve had enough of this place to last a lifetime.”
Eric nodded. “You have won. Your prize is freedom—the freedom to return to your own worlds.”
Max approached Sam and Terra and laid a hand on each shoulder. “I’ll miss you both.”
Sam nodded. “But you’ll come back, right? You’re the True Worlder. You can go where you like. So you’ll come see us from time to time, right?”
“Sure,” Max replied, hoping he wasn’t lying. “I’d like that.” He turned to Terra. “Look after him, will you? See he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”
Terra rolled her eyes. “Ask the impossible why don’t you?” Then she smiled and pulled Max into a tight embrace. “You look after yourself, True Worlder. If you ever need us all you have to do is call.”
Max nodded and stepped back. A message suddenly popped up in his UI.
Would you like to log out?
He selected the log out button and the cavern, along with Eric and Nightshade, Sam and Terra faded. Everything went black.
Then he heard voices talking. “He’s coming around. I’ll go tell the doctors.”
His sight slowly cleared and he found himself looking up at a white ceiling with a strip-light down the middle. White, sterile walls surrounded him and something nearby was making a beeping noise. He turned his head to see a machine by his head lit up with lights. A tube ran from the machine to his left wrist. It took a moment for him to realize he was in a hospital bed. A woman in a nurse’s uniform was standing over him, smiling.
“Welcome back, Maxwell. How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve just done ten rounds with a demon, Max thought.
But all he said was, “Where am I?”
“City hospital,” the nurse replied. “You were brought here with gunshot wounds. Although the surgery went well, there were complications. For a while we didn’t think you’d wake up at all.”
Gunshot wounds? What the hell was she talking about? Eric had saved him from Kalrick. Hadn’t he? Then he remembered the sudden, agonizing pain as he’d fallen and hit his head on the doorframe as he fled into the warehouse. But the pain hadn’t been in his head. It had been in his stomach.
“Who shot me?” Max croaked.
“I don’t know,” the nurse replied. “We’ll leave that to the police. I’ve heard some kind of gambling debt mentioned? Anyway, the main thing is that you’re awake. Not all come around after so long.”
So long? What did that mean? A tiny worm of alarm wriggled in Max’s belly.
“How long was I asleep?”
The nurse frowned. “I’ll leave that to the doctors to explain.”
She made to walk off but Max caught her wrist. “Please. How long was I out?”
The nurse smiled sympathetically. “You were in a coma for three months, Maxwell.”
She squeezed his wrist and then walked off, leaving Max staring in shock at the ceiling. Three months? Coma? Gunshot wound? What the hell was she talking about? This wasn’t
right. None of it was right. He’d been in the Rogue Lands. He’d been trying out a prototype VR system. Now the nurse was telling him it was all some coma-induced dream?
Someone coughed and Max turned his head to see a woman standing by the door. She was wearing an overcoat that had snow on it as though she’d just come in from outside. The hood shadowed her face.
“Do you think you’re up to a visitor?”
Something about her voice seemed familiar although Max couldn’t quite place it.
“Sure,” he croaked.
The woman stepped closer then took down her hood. Max gasped, his eyes going wide.
“Nightshade!”
She smiled. “Actually, my name is Alice.”
Max pushed himself up into a sitting position and a wave of dizziness swamped him. Nightshade—Alice—stepped forward and laid her hands on his shoulders to steady him.
“Careful. You’re weak. You’ll need to take it easy for a while.”
Max stared at her. She looked exactly as she had in the Rogue Lands although her skin wasn’t quite as pale and she was shorter in stature.
“Tell me,” he croaked. “Tell me what the hell has been going on.”
“Kalrick shot you,” Nightshade said. “You’ve been in a coma ever since.”
“And the Rogue Lands? Everything that happened there?”
She just smiled. “I’ve arranged accommodation for you when you get out of hospital. The Corporation doesn’t know where you are and it’s best if we keep it that way.”
“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” Max asked. “It was real?”
Nightshade’s gaze slid across him. “Get some rest,” she said. “You’re going to need your strength.”
She made to leave but Max grabbed her wrist and peered closely at her. On her cheek was a faint white X —just like the one that Kalrick had given her during their final dual. Nightshade snatched her hand back quickly and marched to the door. She hesitated and looked back.
“Max? Thanks for finding me.”
Max nodded. “What now? What comes next?”
She smiled wearily. “Now? Now we begin the lie. If we’re lucky, it will last the rest of our lives.”
