I'm hobbling on my wounded leg, trying to keep up with Cyren, when a demon breaks through the formation. Before he's able to attack, Cyren leaps into the air, rolling over the demon and kicking backward. Her leather heel caves in the demon's skull.
As we reach the tip of the formation, the fighters split open, allowing us to break free and sprint toward the entrance. The lightning magic bursts from the top of the tower, but my Mirror Shield is already in position. The magic reflects off the surface and arcs away from us in a random direction, striking a group of demons rising from the cracked courtyard. Their electrified corpses turn black as they crumple to the ground. Our melee team fills in the gap behind us, blocking the demons from following us into the temple and giving us time to infiltrate the ancient structure.
When we reach the stone entrance, Cyren lowers one shoulder. The ancient rock crumbles under her momentum and we rush into the foyer of the temple. The damp, black walls curve overhead with crooked angles and twisted beams supporting the upper levels. Dust and pebbles fall from the ceiling as the clash of battle echoes from outside. The faces of ancient gods are carved into pillars throughout the open area, their eyes glowing red with an unholy purpose. I hear the screech of a bat, then something that sounds like a low rumble in the distance. It takes me a second before I realize its laughter.
“Creepy,” Cyren says before she takes a step toward the center of the room.
When she does, I look down at the floor and notice hieroglyphic symbols carved into the stone. Her foot touches one and it begins to glow. My hand lashes out, grabbing on to her shoulder. As I yank her back, a buzz saw swings down from the ceiling, the blade passing inches from her face.
She swallows hard and says, “Thank you.”
I point to the symbols on the floor. “Standard evil temple stuff. I've seen it in a thousand games.”
She glances out the doorway at the bloodshed still exploding in the courtyard. “We don't have time to critique the level design right now.”
I blink once and turn away. “Right. Sorry.”
I carefully step through the maze of symbols, only placing my foot on unmarked stone, planning four or five steps ahead. There's only one way to get through the symbols, even though it looks like there's a hundred, so if I don't think ahead, I end up having to backtrack. We don't have that kind of time.
Cyren follows my every footstep, placing her trust in my gameplay. There is no doubt in her allegiance. We know each other's strengths and weaknesses, and we know how to compliment both. Xen would call it Yin and Yang. We prefer to call it binary. One and Zero. With a sum that's greater than its parts. We are a team. Now and forever.
After dodging a few spear traps on the way up the staircase, we find the next level covered in flowing lava. Chains dangle from the ceiling, allowing us to swing between stone platforms. Apparently Cyren can read my reaction to the room from my facial expression.
“Still not satisfied?” Cyren asks.
“Lava?” I let out a breath of derision. “I mean, come on. It's the second floor of the temple. How did lava get up here? It's sloppy design.”
With a single leap she latches on to a chain and maneuvers between platforms. I activate my Boots of Leaping and cover the room in three bounds.
When Cyren catches up to me on the other side, she steps past me with a smirk and says, “Show off.”
“Hey,” I call after her, hurrying up the staircase to the next floor, “it's not my fault that the game doesn't allow Level Zeros to use magic items.”
The third floor is designed like some sort of cultist worship room. The ceiling is the interior of a twisted cone, reaching all the way to the top of the tower. At the front of the room, past a long, deteriorated carpet, stands a huge stone statue of an evil god towering over us. The head of a cobra stares down at us, its body carved with six arms, each holding a different item: a sword, a crescent moon-shaped hook, a lantern, a five-pointed star, an orb, and a hammer. Cyren stands by my side, waiting for my move. I study each object in the statue's hands.
“Well?” she asks. “Now what?
As if on cue, the stone statue of the evil god creaks and groans as the stone begins to move. I remove both of my pistols from their holsters.
“Finally. Something interesting.”
Cyren looks around, worried. The six arms of the statue fan out like weaponized wings that are stretching for the first time in centuries. One of the hands throws the orb into the air. The stone sphere streaks up toward the top of the spiral roof, crackling with a glowing energy. It fills the entire room with a strange purple hue that hangs like dust in the air. The light of the orb flickers, casting shadows on the walls that dance with their own twisted merriment.
“What is that thing?” Cyren whispers, clenching her fists and digging her feet into the ground.
I raise my guns, taking careful aim as I smile and say, “It's a boss fight.”
00110010
I activate my Boots of Leaping and my Anti-Gravity belt, launching myself into the air and holding down the triggers on both of my pistols. I hover through the room, unleashing a steady stream of bullets into the face of the statue. Chips of stone spray into the air, but the statue strides forward, unaffected.
The arm holding the sword swings at me. I pull my knees to my chest and flip forward. As the blade passes under me, I push off the flat edge with my good leg and rocket higher into the air, still shooting.
The arm that wields the hammer swings toward Cyren. She cartwheels to the side and the weapon crushes the ground behind her, leaving a crater in its wake. Cyren sprints toward the edge of the room. The arm with the five-pointed star reels back, then flings the shape toward her. She ducks and the star slams into the wall, one point embedding itself deep into the black stone. Cyren continues forward, running straight up the wall. Ten feet up, she pushes off, flipping backward. Her body tumbles through the air like a stiff baton until she spreads her limbs and lands upon the hand that threw the star at her.
I'm falling slowly. My bullets keep chipping away. The statue's cobra face looks mutilated, but there are no weak spots underneath. Just more stone. So I keep shooting.
As Cyren runs up the arm, the statue scrapes the crescent-shaped hook down the surface of its bicep, trying to remove her from its body. She leaps into the air as the hook passes underneath her. When she lands on the shoulder, she clenches both of her fists and raises them above her head. I can see her muscles bulge underneath the black straps of leather. She screams as her fists swing down like bombs and the impact creates a blast that turns the stone into a cloud of dust. She's lost inside the fog for a moment before she drops out of the bottom. With the shoulder completely disintegrated, the arm falls free, crashing to the ground and breaking into more pieces that scatter across the floor.
My bloody leg wobbles when I land, but my trigger fingers are still flexed. I dodge to the side as the statue swings the sword at me again. This time the blade cleaves into the ground, sticking for a moment. I turn both guns toward the fingers wrapped around the handle of the sword. The stone is thinner there. My guns chew through the hard surface and the thumb breaks free. When the statue yanks on the sword, its arm raises, but the sword remains stuck. The statue flexes its four remaining fingers in front of its face, confused by its inability to grip the weapon.
With two of its appendages rendered useless, I focus my shots at the arm that's wielding the hammer, considering it the next biggest threat. I'm wrong. The statue turns the lantern toward me and a beam of light surges from the interior. It hits me square in the chest before I can react. I'm thrown backward and my body crashes into a stone column that breaks, crumbling down on top of me.
I try to collect my thoughts and lift myself from the debris. My chest is burning. I look down and the area where the lantern struck me is still glowing, smoldering from the heat. It's possible that I'd be dead if it wasn't for my Ring of Magic Protection.
As soon as I look up, the lantern strikes me again
. This time I hit the wall, which crumples under the impact. I hang there for a moment before tumbling out of the body-shaped crater and falling to my knees.
My ring can only protect me for so long. I can't risk another shot. I don't waste time checking my wounds this time. I roll to the side just as the beam strikes the spot where I was. I manage to get my feet underneath me and sprint the other way, zigzagging through the room, dodging the beam of light as it burns the floor behind me, searching for its target. It's moving faster than I can. The heat closes in on me, nipping at my heels.
Cyren slides underneath the statue's legs. She places a palm on the ankle and pulls back her other fist. Another explosive hit, a cloud of powdered stone, and the statue tumbles to the side. The lantern light streams to the side, away from me.
When the statue hits the floor, the entire room shakes. I'm almost thrown from my feet, but I manage to remain standing. The arms of the statue spread out to the sides, as its entire body flattens along the floor. Its foot remains standing, disconnected from the body at the ankle. Cyren stands next to it, her black leather covered in gray soot.
Using my Boots of Leaping, I push against the floor, launching myself on top of the statue. I land on its neck and point both of my pistols at the back of its head. The pointblank shots pound against the stone like a thousand jackhammers. I'm blinded by the large grains of dust that envelop me, but I keep shooting, stopping only when I feel a hand touch my shoulder.
The sound of gunfire echoes through the chamber for a few seconds after I stop shooting. Then there is silence. The cloud of dust drifts to the floor, leaving Cyren and I covered in gray, standing on the broken ruins of a dead god.
“We won,” Cyren says, but there's no triumph in her voice. It sounds more like a question than a declaration of success.
I look up, toward the tip of the ceiling, and see the purple orb still crackling with energy.
“I thought that killing the statue would end the magical effect. Maybe we have to destroy the orb as well?”
I lift my pistol and take aim, but Cyren places her hand on my arm and lowers it.
“I've got a better idea,” she says as she hops off the back of the statue and sprints toward the wall where the five-pointed star is stuck. She grips on to one of the points and pulls. The muscles in her arms ripple like waves of water, summoning as much of her Level 100 strength as she can. Cracks in the wall arc out from the point piercing the stone. With a final bellow of effort, the star breaks free. Cyren stumbles backward a few steps, barely able to hold the star aloft, yet when she spins in the middle of the room, the momentum allows her to twirl the star around in a circular arc. The points whirl past me, increasing in speed with each turn, until she tilts the star upward and releases it. The five points streak through the air, shooting straight for the orb.
When the star strikes the orb, there's a flash of purple light that burns my retinas. A warmth cascades over my body. As the light fades, it leaves the temple room in the dark. Through the thick stone of the temple walls I can hear cheers from the Level Zeros outside. I slide both pistols into my holsters and let out a long, heavy breath, finally allowing my muscles to relax. My shoulders slump forward and I take off my hat, running my fingers through my hair as if I'm physically telling my brain it can slow down. It can stop analyzing movement and speed and velocity. It can let go of its stranglehold on strategy.
We accomplished our goal.
We won.
I'm about to call out to Cyren to congratulate her when I hear a rumble from above. A rain of dust falls down upon me. Then a stone. A rock. A large chunk of the ceiling crashes into the floor next to me. I look up at Cyren, but she's already next to me, grabbing on to my arm and yanking me toward the staircase. We run, leaping down three and four steps at a time.
When we reach the floor below, covered in lava, I scoop her into my arms and activate my Boots of Leaping. One, two, three bounds and we cross the entire floor just as the ceiling collapses. The stones land in the pools of lava, splashing the hot liquid everywhere.
By the time we reach the ground floor, the lava is already streaming from the ceiling and spreading out across the floor. We ignore the traps and charge down the middle of the room. Most of the buzz saws dangle from the ceiling, the mechanics of the traps destroyed by the lava. Some lay on the floor, the compartment that once held them gone, open to the crumbling temple above. But some are still intact. They swing for us, scraping against our backs as we rush forward.
I can see the door.
My viewpoint is turning red when another spinning blade digs into my back. I'm dying. Cyren gets hit as well. She's stumbling. Her feet aren't catching up to her momentum. The walls are falling around us. Hunks of black stone start to fall in front of the door. We're only six feet away from the safety of the courtyard, but I know we're not going to make it.
I slam the palms of my hands into Cyren's back as the last of the temple strikes our heads. She's thrown forward, through the rock and stone and dust.
It's the last thing I see before complete blackness.
00110011
“The Temple of Ultimate Evil has killed you.”
I wait, but I don't hear any other deaths. No one else in the group died, which means she lived. Cyren lived. That's all that matters.
There is nothing around me. In fact, there is no me. I'm not anywhere. There is a lack of existence, an emptiness that penetrates my form. When I thought about death, I always pictured a world of black, that I would be floating in some kind of space, but there is nothing.
“Prepare for respawn.”
I haven't allowed the words to register when the game world fades into view. First large, blurry, pixelated blocks pop into the blackness. As they continue to multiply, thousands, then millions, then billions of tiny dots form graphics that are indistinguishable from reality.
I'm standing in the middle of an ancient tomb. A fire is snapping around a pile of wood. The flames allow me to see the yellowish stone of the walls. It looks like the design used in the desert zone, but I can't be sure. My message notification is beeping in the corner of my viewpoint. Cyren's voice comes from behind me. It sounds exhausted.
“It worked.”
When I turn around, she's standing among a group of civilians. Each one of them has a code book open, and each one of them is holding the large quill that allows them to rewrite the code inside.
Cyren runs toward me and throws her arms around my shoulders. I hug her, but when my hands wrap around her, I touch the wounds open across her back. I step away and look at her bruised face. Her split bottom lip, red with blood. Her torn, leather-strapped outfit hangs from her body in shreds.
“You're... wounded.”
I swipe my hand in the air and open my inventory. I scroll through my magic items until I find my collection of health potions.
“Here.”
She hesitates, but reluctantly accepts the glowing red bottle. She pours the liquid down her throat and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her wounds glow for a few seconds and disappear. Even her clothes mend themselves, the potion rejuvenating her entire avatar. She smiles, crying and laughing at the same time. She touches my face, like she's making sure it's solid.
“You're the one who died, but of course you're worried about my scratches.”
“I died?”
I catch up all at once and I feel like I'm going to fall over, like the world is twisting on an axis that shouldn't exist. I look down at my body. I'm completely healed. A fresh avatar.
“I died! How am I... what happened? How did I respawn? How am I here?”
She clasps both of my hands inside of her own.
“A lot has happened since you died.”
“Tell me,” I beg, trying uselessly to contain myself.
“You were right. There were more monsters. Deeper into the zones on the other side of the Darkfyre Mountains. The battle drew them to us. They were higher Levels than we've ever seen before. We think the d
esigners meant them for end game quests. Raids.”
She closes her eyes, trying to push past the pain of the memories.
“But after you died, we were helpless. With your death, the Level Zeros had no Level. The monsters chased us back toward DangerWar City.” She pauses. “Not all of us made it.”
The pain is obvious, like every breath she's taking is another moment she has to live with their deaths.
“But those of us who survived, those of us who managed to run fast enough... we spread out into small groups to warn the civilians and hide them in the bonus zones, behind the secret doors. I led my group here, to the labyrinth under the desert.”
“The labyrinth,” I mumble. My mind is foggy and slow, like my thoughts are too thick to process. “That was smart. We cleared this place a long time ago. Monsters would never find the entrance to the hidden chambers.”
She bows her head as her words whimper and fail. “Others tried to reach the secret doors in the city.”
I reach out and touch her, trying to offer her as much of my strength as I can summon. “What happened to them?”
She closes her eyes tight, trying to shut off the desperate need to weep as she whispers, “It was a slaughter. The monsters... they destroyed everything. The city is... ”
She pulls away from my touch and inhales, summoning her own strength to continue.
“Those of us that survived, that were able to remain hidden, we knew we had to figure out a way to end the death loop that you were in. The civilians came up with the idea to change your spawn point so that you'd reappear inside the game instead of outside the gates, in NextWorld.”
I take a long, deep breath. I'm trying to allow all the pieces of the puzzle to find their place, but they keep spinning. I look down at my avatar again, studying my hands and my clothes. I feel new. Fresh. Untouched. I pull out one of my pistols. It looks shiny, like I've never fired it. I spin the cylinder of bullets.
The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point Page 3
