No, not her Rowan. Just Rowan.
She hammered harder, burying the thought and retrieved the three large gems, perfect for a dark spawnpoint. Gems were rare and expensive, used in countless crafting recipes and enchantments from building cities to enhancing gear. The demand was massive and the market was always sold-out. The dwarves had become the richest race by the end of alpha. And the still richest. They hoarded so much high-level crafting materiels in the fortress of their. Greedy rats.
But Gabrielle didn’t blame them. The superior always floats to the top. Those resources would be hers one day.
Rowan’s too. She’d promised him equal rule and she never broke promises—not even with fingers crossed. Promises were sacred. She knew that. Aunt Roth knew. Everyone in the order knew. Without some kind of rule and social structure, there’d be nothing but deceit and chaos in a group full of people without morals. There’d be daily betrayals and endless in-fighting. Promises needed to be kept and when broken, that was the end for ya.
If Rowan broke his promises to her, then it’d be the end for him. Likely the end of his life too. He’d never be considered for a position—not even as a puppet.
Gabrielle’s chest constricted at the realization for some reason. Her fickle heart didn’t like the idea of Rowan being disposed of after the mission. Illogical, irrational, and 100% dumb. He was just a boy and there were billions of other boys out there smarter and sexier and him.
And he was the only boy who hadn’t ran away after spending time with her. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d say that he was drawn to her beautiful, fun-loving, amazing personality like boys should. They were all weird like that.
Gabrielle decided in a heartbeat: test and train Rowan in this safe environment before Uncle Vincent considers him for a place in the order if he hadn’t already.
Yes. She couldn’t lose the only fish she’d caught in her life whether he ends up being good at sex or not. Rowan better not disappoint.
Chapter 23
King's Tale
The town needed to be demolished.
Jonathan hauled another giant sled of wood and stone rubble, his massive paladin strength rendering the impossible task almost easy. Grueling work—to manually tear down buildings like they were living in the middle ages. But that was exactly this game: the middle ages. An escape from real life. From the booming robotics industry which replaced countless jobs every month. Not a single human had to hammer a bolt in decades. It was all automated.
The monotonous work pumped blood and heat, drawing sweat under Jonathan’s plate armor. He couldn’t take it off without a shield generator protecting the place. Too risky. A bandit or a pirate or a darkie could jump the place any moment, especially with a dark temple uncovered out in the open. LeMort had created four darkies over the in-game years—and now a sixth. Rowan Black, released from psychiatric prison despite being insane enough to be granted a dark class.
Jonathan’s body constricted at that thought. The justice system wasn’t perfect. And neither was he. Not even close. This massacred town marked yet another failure of himself and the guild. They barely lived up to the name of Light’s Justice. The decaying, poisoned corpses he passed said as much. Not even flies or rodents dared to touch the killer flesh. Over two or three thousand dead needed to be handled and incinerated. Lance had made this decision. Rowan could return any coming day to convert another batch. His control stat must’ve limited his minion count.
Nearing the resource pile by the gate, Jonathan found Rain cleansing the air and earth of lingering dark mana, blasts of healing light illuminating the night. For three hours now. The sheer taint and malice spewed by the dark humans were unfathomable, shivers running down Jonathan’s back as strands of dark mana brushed against him. An order of magnitude greater than the pirates or bandits. Why would the AI controller allow such evil to exist? This needed to be eradicated at all costs.
“How’s the demolition?” Rain asked, his accented voice husky.
“A fifth of the town so far. Starting with the smaller houses.” Half the raid party had either logged or left to sweep the area with the officers. They didn’t have the strength stat to help or were simply uncaring. Lance understood. This was only just a game and many preferred not to take part in the more work-like activities. The millions of NPCs took care of it anyway—during the day.
Rain unleashed another flood of warm light and the remaining vestiges of darkness dissipated in this area. “I think that’s about it,” he said and slung his staff onto his back. “Hmm.” He rubbed his neck, shaking his head. “Maybe I’ll go help with the corpses. I have some basic fire skills.”
Everyone did. But you needed at least blue or white heated fire to turn bone into ash. Only the highest level Fire Mages—or a Fire Lord—possessed the right skills. “You can help pile the bodies at least. Dorian and Lance are at the mass grave by the trail to the mines.” Jonathan mumbled.
Rain grunted—and left after throwing a heal in Jonathan’s direction. It did nothing except for calm his nerves.
He dumped the sled onto a pile for the NPC workers to sort in the morning. A guild officer with a high-level builder profession was crafting blueprints for an outpost keep centered on the dark temple. He couldn’t build it alone, of course. It’d take weeks and thousands of workers with high strength and dexterity. Not as fast as the automatons in real life but several times faster than human construction speed.
As he dragged the sled back to the demolition crew of Earth and Arcane Mages, a decorated alert dinged in front of his eyes.
The Draconian King, Lord Xapham Zuriel, has requested an audience from the leadership of guild Light’s Justice at the break of dawn.
So news had reached the king’s ears. Lance had no choice but to report the existence of the dark humans to the faction. He was secretive but Dorian’s guild wasn’t. The encounter was more or less common knowledge among the top guilds now. This place would be overrun with imperial guards in the morning.
And Lance would likely protest the decision because the defensive lines at the bandit fortress and pirate lair were already too thin. The light Oculus’ were at capacity.
Jonathan took a mouthful of dusty air, laying his sled against a building wall. He drank a sip from his enchanted flask to top up his stamina and headed to Lance’s location for a group portal. All officers were invited to these meetings but few typically joined. Politics between factions and guilds was a boring but required guild activity to retain a base permit by the capital.
On his Light Shard, Jonathan looked to be the only officer interested in the meeting. The others were either helping the demolition efforts or sweeping the area. No sign of darkies had been found as expected.
When he neared the blazing bonfire of corpses, Dorian’s rough voice mixed with the crackling fire. Jonathan pulled down his mount and let them finish their exchange. A sliver of guilt wrapped around his throat but curiosity got the better of him.
“We should have brought the raid with us!”
So he was still livid. Jonathan didn’t blame the guy.
“We both know that would have been an unwise move given LeMort’s skills,” Lance said calmly.
“She wasn’t even there! Illusions!”
Rain had revealed that little detail. His detection ward had gained a tier recently and could see through Ambiguous’ illusions if they were in line-of-sight.
“Nevertheless, she could have been and we didn’t know. The buildings could have been lined with explosives and it would’ve wiped the whole party in the narrow streets. Please, understand.”
Dorian released a frustrated growl. His figure erupted in flames. Blue-yellow flames laced with—
Black.
No. It was probably just the night and the distance. Dorian had been a light player since the beginning. Despite fire’s more destructive tendencies, it was without a doubt good-aligned. Fire was needed for life and creation. It brought warmth, light, and energy needed for civilizati
on. Without fire, this world would be perpetual darkness.
Then Dorian said something in a low, creepy voice, “I could have had the power to deliver real justice to this world, unlike your failing guild.” A small flame flickered to life on his palm. It was ruby-black. “And I still can. Do you see?”
Lance stepped to him. “That’s enough, you—”
“No, I am right, Lance.” The dark flame grew and Dorian’s face twisted into something horrid. Jonathan’s eyes bulged, his skin prickling. “All it takes is one little ritual and absolute power would be mine. The likes of Rowan and LeMort will never rise again in this world. His puny Undead—”
“Dorian!” Lance drew his blade, his armor shining in pure white. “Get hold of yourself! Listen to what you’re saying!”
Impossible. Had Dorian been playing a Fire-Dark character this whole time? Or had the AI controller reevaluated him at some point?
“What I’m saying? What I’m saying is the dark classes are far more powerful than we ever will be. We are far too weak to stop Rowan. We can’t even handle LeMort.” Dorian extinguished the flame in his fist. Dark mana seeped through his fingers. His eyes turned pitch black.
Did this mean he was a remorseless killer? He’d been so kind—though firm many times. But never evil. He’d burned down bandits and pirates and dark enemies because it was necessary, not because he enjoyed doing so. But now… Jonathan didn’t know what to think. Were they wrong about the prerequisites for dark mana? The world heaved, Jonathan’s innards threatening to burst.
Lance had said something which Jonathan didn’t catch. He had sheathed his sword.
“Are you not going to stop me?” Dorian asked, his voice layered like a demon’s. Because that was exactly was Fire-Dark was. Demonic.
And to Jonathan’s utter astonishment, Lance shook his head. “It’s not in my place to step on your free will, Dorian. If you truly wish to embrace your dark side then it’s your decision. I will only stop the crimes you will likely desire to commit if you turn.”
The VR tech was far too realistic and it had clearly warped their perspectives on the game over the decade. Rightly so. Dark mana had been designed to invoke negative emotions and psychotic regions of one’s mind. Only those of the strongest will could resist and stay sane. Ambiguous Pain was the most lucid. She was even occasionally allowed into a few cities of the eastern kingdom—under heavy supervision. Though all the bounties on her head prevented a visit so far.
Dorian’s nose wrinkled. He looked down at his hand. His skin had been blackened by the dark mana. “Just one little ritual and I will have the armies of hell under my command.”
Lance chuckled, arms wide. “And that would make a better world and experience? Did you not listen to king’s tales of the last Demon Knight? He was driven insane with power! You know unchecked, absolute power corrupts. Especially dark mana. That Demon Knight could only be sealed in an ancient vault.”
“You underestimate my will!” Dorian yelled like a movie character.
The lines between reality and the game were truly blurred for veterans.
“You couldn’t even listen to retreat pings.” Lance’s tone was sardonic, rare for him.
“You shouldn’t have pinged for a retreat!”
“Yes, I should’ve and I did. All you cared about was revenge. It wasn’t because you wanted to protect the innocent players and nobles that joined us without an Oculus blessing.”
True. Jonathan gave him that. Dorian had been overcome with hate.
Dorian flinched, then said a moment later, “If you just stayed behind with Rain we could’ve stopped them from porting.”
“I had a timer on that invulnerability totem. It wasn’t possible.”
“Only twenty seconds! And that Mass Teleport channel is fiftee—”
A different voice bellowed over the dimming flames. Rain. “Ambiguous isn’t stupid. She is smart.” He pulled a trolley of corpses behind, his light magic helping. “Just stating facts.”
It didn’t look like Rain had seen Dorian’s Fire-Dark power. Either that or he already knew. Rain was as stable and understanding as Lance. And it was Dorian’s secret. Jonathan had no right to know. Rain’s detection ward would’ve revealed his presence too. He deflated in chagrin and pulled forward at high-speed, his Light Shard humming over the pyre. The three noticed him in a split-second.
Rain gave him a knowing look but didn’t say a word.
And come to think of it… Rain’s higher-tier ward could detect dark mana as well.
So the doctor knew of Dorian’s mana type—and trusted Jonathan with the secret.
“Hey,” Jonathan said with a wave after swallowing a ball of guilt, “I just got the alert from the king. Are you leaving soon?”
Lance nodded. “Yes, we have to. You coming?” His brow rose because Jonathan usually didn’t attend.
“Yeah, I want to see what’s going to happen.” These were interesting—though very dark—times in Aeon Chronicles. Retired players could return in mass.
"Very well, but don't say I didn't warn you of how boring these things are," Lance said and huffed. Then looked at Dorian. "And you? You have a prestigious guild to represent." The implication was heaving in his tone.
Dorian looked away and tended to the new batch of corpses, a heavy scowl on his face. “Yeah,” he spat while Rain emptied the corpses into the pit. He chanted and a ten-meter wide blue flame poured from the ruby at the tip of his unique silver staff. No strains of effort pulled at his face. It was second nature to the Fire Lord.
Impressive. Hot too. Jonathan leaned away from the blaze as the four watched flesh and bone disintegrate. Tiny flecks of dark mana laced the flame. Jonathan chose to ignore it—for the best. It wouldn’t help the situation to cause a scene here. This was Dorian’s burden, not his.
Poor guy. To be cursed with dark mana. What could’ve made the AI sort him into Fire-Dark?
The answer was clear a second later: his brother’s murder had been harder on him than he let on. Hate and vengeance had twisted him just enough to meet the AI’s requirements. Dorian must’ve taken the tragedy far harder than he had let on. The guy came from a wealthy, powerful family and from what Jonathan heard, his parents demanded strength and a constant, confident mask. It was part of their family motto or something.
Jonathan resisted an urge to shake his head. Suppressing one's self like that without a healthy outlet was never good. Though firing these corpses seemed to help—somewhat.
“Nice work,” Lance said, nodding.
“Yes, very good job,” Rain added.
Jonathan caught on. “Yeah man, we’d be toast without you... Err, you know what I mean.”
Dorian huffed once at that and flashed Jonathan a momentary smirk. “My pleasure,” he said, voice much more stable. He looked back at the corpses, upping the blast output. The remaining bones broke down into black ash.
Crisis averted. Jonathan breathed a mental sigh of relief. This was one friend he wasn’t going to lose in this hyper-realistic, mind-bending game. The dark-classes were dangerous to one’s brain man. Dangerous. Rowan Black was probably pure insanity by now. Leading an army of putrid, stinking corpses couldn’t result in anything else. Sad guy. Sad fate.
“Alight,” Lance said with a touch of authority, “We should head for the capital now.”
(Raid Chat) Lance Rider: We are heading off to the Draconian Capital. Can we get an Arcane Mage with Group Portal, please?
He got a reply in seconds.
Paladin lacked a personal portal skill, much to Jonathan’s continued annoyance. It was rumored that Paladin’s class evolution possessed one but the requirements to unlock it was a mystery. The one pure-light Oculus had been… difficult to commune with.
But the game was still in beta. For all everyone knew, the AI controller hadn’t implemented the evolution yet. Dorian was one of few with a second-tier class.
The Arcane Mage arrived shortly and began chanting the portal spell. A Fire Mage t
ook over Dorian’s duties and the calculating, calm officer also joined the envoy to the capital. Hadrian was his in-game name.
More the merrier. Jonathan appreciated all the friends he’d made in Aeon Chronicles more than anything else. It was the best part of the game.
Chapter 24
Even More Grinding
You have leveled up!
You have 8 unallocated stat points
You have 8 unallocated skill points
Rowan jogged and watched his growing force of clawed imps and imp Mages mow down another group of elementals on the way to the next chamber. After raising the first twenty back in that first large chamber and a few more Mages in the next, the battalion had attained critical mass. Only a massive area of effect attack could stop Rowan’s imps now. They moved in a blitz of smoke and fire through the group of lava elementals and left behind pieces of glowing rock. Glorious.
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