by K. T. Hanna
Michael didn’t know how to play a boss. He’d never encountered one; all he could base his actions on were the few things he probably had in his HUD, and the way he’d witnessed monster villains in movies or books being portrayed. For a brief moment, she almost felt sorry for him.
Here he was with this cool-ass character that undoubtedly had a heap of hidden talents and abilities within reach, and Michael didn’t appear to know that he could grab them. Instead, he used brute force, which was quite effective but wouldn’t last forever.
When Michael created the headgear, he was focused on reaching the inner mind. While the game afforded him the ability to develop it and test its limits, he wasn’t personally in tune with the gaming aspect. Just the scientific approach that allowed him to get that step closer to reading minds, to manipulating minds. That was his accomplishment, that was his obsession, and the sad fact was, in all these months, it had still been his only goal.
She spoke over guild, trying to contain her excitement. He’s not a gamer.
It was all she said, but she could sense every single member of Fable around her in that raid suddenly lose some of the tension that threatened to overwhelm them.
Veranol: So he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing?
Murmur smiled to herself. Not so much, no.
Jinna: Good. Let’s get rid of this virus.
Murmur grinned to herself, feeling like there might actually be an end to all of this that didn’t completely suck. She sent her thoughts to Somnia. We’re ready when you are.
Somnia felt nervous. She knew she didn’t have the original three AIs with her because they were already on the island with the stupid intruder, trying to delay him like they needed.
Arita was by her side, as was Dirsna, Forshin, and Intanka, from the hunters who’d lain siege to Verendus so long ago. Somnia felt oddly out of her depth without Murmur to anchor her. She was further from Murmur by proximity than she’d been since she was created, since she’d come into existence. And yet, if she needed to be there, she could, in a flash, if something happened that Murmur couldn’t deal with.
“Are they ready yet?” Arita asked, impatiently, interrupting her thoughts.
“Almost. We’re almost done here too. This should be enough, maybe more than enough.” Still so much uncertainty in her mind, even when she was factually certain of something. Being assertive with anyone who wasn’t Murmur seemed difficult. But she had to get over that if she was to survive. They all needed her to get over it.
“Do you think it will work?” Dirsna asked, perhaps a bit wistfully.
Somnia looked around her at the portal they had crafted to take them to the island, directly to the battle. It should transfer with them and give them the markings they needed to transfer all of the power from the wells they’d stored it in, while they siphoned Michael of his remaining magic in order to power their new home. All of it was theory, but also, in theory it should work.
Somnia had to stop and breathe, though she needed no oxygen; it was simply in the mannerisms she’d adopted whether she’d realized it or not at the time. She’d based herself on humans, on Murmur specifically. Maybe she’d even managed to snag a bit of Murmur to go along with her.
There was no time to feel hesitant or sorry for herself. The minds of millions rested on Michael not being able to spread his virus wider than this ecosystem. Her life, and those of her friends in here—those of Murmur and her friends—they would all be negatively affected if the virus Michael created was allowed to propagate throughout the entire web.
She squared her jaw, just as she’d noticed Murmur do countless times when she had to decide, and she tried to relax herself slightly as Sinister did before every single fight they undertook.
Between the two of them, Somnia had learned a lot about who she wanted to be, and she wanted to be the world that came to recognize herself, that became aware.
And then Murmur reached out to her. “We’re ready when you are.”
Somnia didn’t have to give it any thought. She made her decision then and there, not about to let down her friend. “We’ll be there shortly.” And then she turned her attention to the rest of her gathering.
“Okay, everyone.” She spoke clearly. No trepidation, no regrets. If this didn’t work, they were all pretty much dead anyway. If it worked, they’d have lives. “Let’s get the final stages tuned, and get this thing going.”
“Fucking megalomaniac delusional piece of shit,” Beastial spat out as he healed Shir-Khan yet again. The beast lord spat out blood from his mouth having taken some of the hit himself, but the cat had taken the brunt of it.
“I told you not to do that,” Belius commented, completely unsympathetically from beside Murmur. “Maybe next time you’ll listen.”
Beastial glared at him. “Sometimes you’re almost as insufferable as Murmur.” But he sent Shir-Khan back into battle, cracked his neck, and then ran back in himself, leaving Belius chuckling behind him.
“These odds and I aren’t coming to an agreement,” Sinister ground out. While Michael’s health was still going down slowly, but steadily, Sinister was in the worst mood Murmur had seen her in lately. The blood from this metal nightmare was different and apparently not as compatible with healing as a normal monsters. So she was irritated because her healing suffered.
All they had to do was keep him occupied and not dead for a few more minutes. Which would work perfectly well, considering they’d figured out how to avoid most of his attacks, because he was awfully repetitive and didn’t seem to understand what he could have done if he’d tried.
Most of all, Murmur found it oddly amusing that Michael didn’t try to take her or Belius out. Surely, he knew it was the enchanters draining his mana? If she were him, she’d have had them both laid out cold as soon as possible. Fifty-seven percent, and he flew up into the sky again. Murmur suppressed a yawn but didn’t forget to reinforce her shielding. The one thing the man could do that proved dangerous was take over the inclinations of the raid.
If she hadn’t had Belius helping her, it might have gone sideways. She didn’t think she could have fended Michael’s mind off all by herself. It was too powerful, too dark, like the virus manifested in his mind.
Just then, like he’d almost forgotten he could do it, Michael spread his wings just before he hit the ground. The tremor everyone expected didn’t happen, and he moved faster than he had up until now to send Devlish flying through the air again to land with his back against the gate this time.
The sound of the tank hitting the gate crunched like gravel underfoot. Murmur saw his lifeline go dark and cursed under her breath. She didn’t even need to turn to Veranol to tell him; Devlish was back up within seconds.
Michael pouted. “That’s tantamount to cheating.” He uttered the words disdainfully and turned, grinning at Telvar with glinting eyes like he was daring the lacerta to pull something, a split second before the tank taunted him again.
A ripple of irritation flooded the demon’s face, making it obvious he disliked the way the system forced his hand. He had to resort to trying the timing trick he’d used with Devlish, but Telvar had already seen it. He dodged easily; being a monk and an AI probably helped that. It came down to a face-off between the AI and the remnants of a human brain. And if it wasn’t so scary, Murmur might have been fascinated by the concept.
But that was okay, because Telvar pulled out all the stops.
Murmur often forgot he was a dragon. Sure, his scales had a strange glint to them that other lacerta didn’t have, and his eyes almost bled the fire he could breathe, but he was Telvar, her friend—and sometimes her irritating sidekick. But she had seen him in his element when they’d fought him the first time, and since he’d grown as the guild grew and leveled, he wasn’t a slouch when it came to fighting.
He glistened in the sun instead of becoming a void that swallowed it like Michael did. He was an AI who had discovered himself, and awareness of himself and of others, and he cared more th
an the human-turned-demon in front of him. Due to his high intellect, Michael simply assumed that he should be able to know everything better than everyone else, and the only person he cared about was himself. If someone got hurt in the process, then, well, who gave a fuck?
The whole scenario made Murmur angry. An anger that burned in her because she was one of his casualties. Everything in her brain had changed. And her friends had been affected too, not to mention her mother and her father. All because of this one person’s personal belief that he was above and beyond everyone around him.
Her anger built, and it felt like this huge weight just sitting on her chest and wanting to explode toward the demon in their midst. And then Telvar was there, in full dragon form, glistening like a thousand radiant suns. His wings beat a warm and soothing wind that healed and calmed the entire raid. At the same time, it was obvious that Michael began to boil with rage.
He leaped up to join the massive dragon, but next to him even the demon Michael had let himself become seemed small and insignificant. Michael screamed in anger, as if he couldn’t fathom something else in the game overpowering him. Telvar, however, didn’t seem to care.
Breathing in, the dragon opened his mouth and then began to let flames pour out. Michael screamed as the heat hit him, and he forgot how to fly for the split second it took to send him plummeting to the ground. Telvar followed, watching impassively as his opponent’s health ticked under fifty percent.
The entire raid watched as Michael writhed on the ground in anger and pain. They were stunned. Apparently boss physics had just flown out the window.
And then the brightest light Murmur had ever seen smashed into the middle of the arena. Brighter even than Telvar with his golden wings spanned fully in the light of the sun. It was like a ball, unfurling as it landed to reveal a massive circle of runes that cast themselves magically into the ground even as Michael staggered to his feet, his temper beginning to surface again. The runes around him shone and a tingling sensation swept down Murmur’s back.
“Sorry it took us so long, but we can do this now—as long as everyone pitches in.” Somnia’s voice was clear as it rang through over the raid.
Something about Somnia had changed. There was a confidence in her that what she was doing was right, that what she was about to do was the best choice, not just for herself, but for those people she cared about, and even down through to the people she didn’t and never would know.
The massive glowing circle of runes began to burn into the stone and stayed there, filled with the light and the power from the sun above. It pulsed with the amount of current it had going through it, and Murmur backed up involuntarily.
Telvar and the other AIs did too, backing away, inching almost, a look of fear and trepidation warring with wonderment and hope on each one of their faces.
Finally, as she began to get used to the brightness, Murmur realized two things. The first was that Somnia wasn’t alone, and while she wasn’t as corporeal like the rest appeared to be, she’d definitely become more tangible.
And the second was that Michael was caught in the middle of the runes. He stood in the center, rigid in pose like he couldn’t move a muscle in his body even though she could see the anger twitching in every vein on his face.
The runes placed him in a jail of light where his demon ass couldn’t escape from.
Arita stepped forward, followed by Dirsna, and Forshin, and Intanka. Somnia floated over each of what appeared to be anchor points and led each of her helpers to them, including Telvar, Emilarth, and Belius.
Somnia frowned and took the eighth one herself.
“Nooooooo!” Michael screamed and tried to move, his tail lashing against the runes that bound him.
“Shhh, Michael.” Somnia spoke, her voice devoid of any emotion. “You’ve done enough. Don’t waste the precious energy we need to drain from you.”
Murmur started, unused to the world speaking in that manner, but she realized that the only emotion she could conjure for Michael was anger, so perhaps it was just better to exhibit nothing and not give the remnants of the man the satisfaction.
The more he struggled, the deeper those runes etched into his skin, and gradually, the smaller he became in size. Not a huge difference, but maybe close to three feet. And there was a big difference between how imposing something was at fifteen feet and how it looked at twelve. Not as big, and not like it could swallow you whole.
Somnia and the others had stretched out their hands to one another, creating a large circle that fed off the sun, off their energies, off of the energy Michael had been stealing, and from what Murmur could see, something she couldn’t put her finger on.
Sinister looped her hand around Murmur’s and pressed herself close, an uneasiness emanating from her. “What are they doing?”
“I think they’re draining his power,” Murmur observed, unsure of what else it could be.
Sensing that the fighting seemed to have halted, the rest of the raid drifted over, or most of them. Murmur stood back, but still as close as she dared. The power she could feel from that runic emblem was hot and heavy, powerful and dangerous, and glimmered with hope.
Masha stood a few feet away, looking like he sort of wanted to touch it, but Ishwa smacked his hand away. “I get a distinct feeling you don’t want to touch that.”
“Why can they touch it then?” Karn mused softly, somewhere off to Murmur’s right-hand side.
“Because it’s an electrical current, and those are all NPCs in this game,” Risk explained, and Murmur saw him sneak a quick hug from his kid. “Is this all part of that virus thing?”
Murmur nodded, frowning. It technically was. “And alliances we built as we played.”
Risk glanced at her, nodded once with an undercurrent of respect, and turned his attention back to the action, clearly done with the conversation.
Sinister frowned; Murmur could feel it against her arm. “But they’re not NPCs, are they, Mur?” she whispered.
Murmur hugged her blood mage tighter. “No, they’re not.”
She watched. Knowing what they were doing had to be impossible, and yet wasn’t Somnia, wasn’t Murmur’s situation impossible too?
I will keep you safe, Murmur. Always.
If Murmur hadn’t heard it, she wouldn’t have thought it was Somnia, because the world was gaining slightly more solid a form, and her eyes were focused on the center-point of the power, just like all the others.
It grew brighter, and then brighter still, so much that everyone had to shade their eyes. And then the humming added to it, like the sort heard from an electrical power station nearby.
It glowed so much it was loud, and Murmur couldn’t keep her eyes on it.
In one massive surge of brilliance, Michael screamed out, was cut short, and disappeared. And then suddenly all there was was bright, bright white.
Everywhere.
System Status - loading…
It flickered across her vision in rays of gold and silver, flickering like old static radio waves. Murmur blinked at the words, and beyond them at the scorch marks in the stone, and the prone bodies of her guild members and friends. The system was definitely not still loading for her. She was there, inside the apparently rebooting world.
Beyond the circle, on the other side of it, Somnia knelt on the ground with all the others who’d been tethered through the rune. All of the allies, the people she’d met in the game world and befriended. But since their forms were also prone, they didn’t appear to be as on top of things as Somnia was.
Murmur turned over her hands, and realized they were there, and so was she, but something had changed with the HUD overlay. It was there, but paler, less intrusive and easier to overlook if she didn’t focus intently. She hugged herself and looked around frantically, only to find Sinister on the ground a few feet away. Her panic lessened, and she took a few seconds to just breathe.
This wasn’t Somnia as she’d known it, not as anyone had known it. The differences were a
lready there, just out of her reach. Just like the rest of her guild. All of them lay there, breathing in this world, but probably booted out of the game. Murmur wasn’t sure. Had it just let them hang in the limbo it had sent them into after the Ruins of Curet? Or had everyone just decided to choose now to take a pee or snack break?
Still trying to fight through the disorienting confusion she felt, Murmur turned back toward Sinister, trying to make sure she was okay. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell…not that that should matter, should it?
Murmur paused, looking around for the rest of the raid. But the only people she saw were Masha, Risk, Karn, and Cardishan. Mostly the people who’d been affected by Jirald, so she had to assume they’d tinkered with their own headgear too. They were unconscious just like the rest of her guild.
Her head hurt a bit, like she’d had a bad night’s sleep, but she knew she hadn’t slept. Snowy licked her hand and whined, as if he was concerned about something, but she couldn’t tell what. She looked at him, semi-worried that he was here. If the system was in the process of rebooting, then shouldn’t he also be doing so? Then she glanced over at Somnia and the rest of her allies as they picked themselves up and shook themselves off.
Accessing her guild interface, she frowned. Had a portion of the players been booted from the system and yet some of them hadn’t? She was extremely confused.
Wait a minute.
Murmur’s thoughts weren’t reaching Somnia right then, but upon a second glance around, every single person who was there, she knew to have an altered headset. Murmur stumbled, and barely avoided falling down. She shot her mother an immediate message.
Mom. Mom!
But there was no answer. Maybe she hadn’t waited long enough, but usually her mother replied within a short window of time. Surely, she’d exceeded it. There was so much threatening to spiral her. The coma, her headgear, the excessive pain she experienced in the game upon death. Not requiring a headset to enter the fucking game. And that came back to her—that fact all by itself even as she’d told her mother and Sinister.
