Pangea Online: The Complete Trilogy

by S. L. Rowland

  I send the princess a message and she replies, agreeing to meet in the Mortican Mountains.

  After the second quest, my face is even more famous than before. Several people try to stop me as I make my way out of the town square.

  The princess waits for me in a nearby field. I come across her battling a harpy. Her arrows soar through the air, taking down the shrieking bird-woman in a few hits. Her face drops when she sees me.

  “I’m so sorry!” she says, running up to me. Tears stream down her face.

  I wrap my arm around her and pull her close.

  “Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. With me being so famous right now, it was bound to catch up with us.”

  She cries even harder.

  “You don’t understand. It was me.”

  “You? What do you mean?”

  “I was asking my dad questions. If it was possible for characters to be created with hidden stats? I told him about how all of you were strong and that it didn’t make any sense to me, since you worked in the mines. He said they never paid much attention to the mines, but then he looked into it and found that there was a bug. Apparently, it had been there a really long time. So, then they fixed it and that’s why you lost your strength. I’m so sorry.”

  Her words are like a blow to the gut. It takes me a moment to find my words.

  “You’re the reason why I don’t have a chance at winning the tournament anymore?” An anger flares up in me that I can’t control. I know she didn’t mean for this to happen, but it doesn’t excuse it. I told her to just let it go. She should have. “You’re the reason why Buzz’s mom is going to die. Dammit, Aleesia. I had a real shot at saving her. Now I’m just a bug that’s going to get stepped on.”

  I turn to walk away. I’ve said enough hurtful things to her already, but I know if I stay, I’ll say more.

  “Let me make it up to you,” she squeaks.

  “Make it up to me? Can you give me my strength back? Can you get me thirty levels by the time the next quest starts? I don’t think so. You’ve done enough.”

  With that, I take off. I can still hear her crying as Fenrir bolts away. Merlin gives me an annoyed hoot from my shoulder. He knows I’m being unfair. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?

  I message Buzz and Grayson and they both agree to meet me after work.

  While I wait, I travel to various worlds and level as much as I can. Even though I don’t have a shot, I can’t just give up on Buzz’s mom. I still have to try.

  Fighting is so much harder without my strength. It takes me forever to kill monsters I could defeat in seconds only yesterday. I take more damage and run out of mana more often too. So, this is what it’s really like to level grind. I’m screwed.

  I still have my stat point from yesterday. I look at my stats and decide to put it into Agility. If I can’t hit hard, I’m going to need to be faster.

  Level 24:

  Strength -14

  Agility -4

  Vitality -5

  Intellect -6

  Dexterity -5

  Stamina -0

  We meet up at a pub in Midgard. It’s Buzz’s favorite world now. A burly man wearing chainmail and a leather vest pours frothy ale into our mugs as we sit down at a table near the back.

  “Sausage will be out in a minute,” he grumbles.

  “Ah, they know me so well,” says Buzz. He takes off his dented helm and places it on the table. He takes a sip of the ale and some of it runs down his black tunic. “You left in such a hurry yesterday, we didn’t get to congratulate you. Or talk about you-know-what.”

  “Yeah, about that. I didn’t read your messages until this morning.”

  “Any idea who might have ratted you out?” asks Grayson. He wears his pirate clothes and the bear tattoo stares out at me between the flaps of his vest.

  “I already know. It was Aleesia. She was asking questions and her dad put the pieces together. I gave her a hard time about it. I’m sorry, Buzz.”

  “What are you sorry for?” he asks with a full mouth, eating the sausage that had just been placed on the table. “You’re one of thirty-two people who are in the final quest. I don’t care if you’re not as strong as you were. You’re smart, and you’re one of the luckiest bastards I’ve ever known.”

  “He’s right,” says Grayson. “You’re more than a warrior. You have good spells. You might have the best mount there is. That bird’s no slouch either. You may be out-leveled and outgunned, but that’s how it’s been our whole lives. I don’t care if you moved away. You’re still a kid from The Boxes. You’re still a miner.”

  Grayson places a small box on the table.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Buzz and I got you a little something. Happy early birthday.” He slides the box across the table. I almost forgot that my birthday is tomorrow. It’s never really been a big deal most of my life.

  “I don’t know what to say. Thanks.”

  “Quit blabbering and open it,” says Buzz.

  I open the box and a small ring falls onto the table. A dark black crystal shines from the thick silver band.

  Item: Ring of Power. +15 attack. Unique ability: Double Ring of Power’s attack bonus for 30 seconds. After the bonus is up, Ring of Power offers no bonus for 60 seconds.

  “Maybe this will help get you out of a bind one day,” says Grayson.

  “Thanks, guys. This means a lot.” I don’t know what I would do without these two in my corner.

  “Don’t get all emotional on us. Go out there and learn to kill some monsters.”

  For the rest of the day, the three of us travel across Midgard, fighting monsters and animals, laughing and having fun. I get better at fighting, adapting to a new style that blends my magic, attack, and defense into a cohesive unit. It’s not as easy or as strong as before, but maybe it’ll give me a shot.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I’m woken up by a delivery. VR Haptix has sent me a box of new clothes and other stuff for my birthday. I love the shirt with a level nineteen on it, but my favorite is a bobblehead of my in-game character holding an axe. Tucked in the bottom of the box, I find a picture of me pulling Fenrir into the portal with a handwritten note on the frame.

  Congrats on making it to the final round! We can’t wait to see what you have up your sleeve this time.

  If you only knew. So far, the developers and my closest friends are the only ones who know I lost my strength. With the way I talked to Aleesia, I’m not even sure we would be considered friends at this point.

  It’s great that I made it to nineteen-years-old, but after talking to Buzz and Grayson, my mind is back on the tournament. I probably have the least shot at winning of anyone, but I refuse to give up.

  When I log into Pangea, my notifications ding like crazy. I have messages from several people wishing me a happy birthday, including Klink, Ordin, Glordin, and Tinker. It’s easy to tell when it’s someone’s birthday in Pangea because a little party hat appears next to their name. I respond to each of them, thanking them for their wishes. I receive a free item from the Pangea Online Developers.

  Item: Birthday Party Hat. Wear this hat to let everyone you meet know it’s your special day. Expires at midnight.

  I equip the hat. It’s yellow with red polka dots and a few metallic ribbons that blow around when I walk. Might as well enjoy it while I can.

  There is a message from Aleesia. The subject says ‘Sorry,’ but I don’t open it. She’s the last person I want to think about right now.

  Below her message, there is one from a name I don’t recognize. Howard Allen. I don’t know how it got through the filter that keeps out messages from anyone not on my friends list. The subject is ‘Happy birthday, Esil.’ My curiosity is piqued, so I open it.

  Happy birthday, son,

  This birthday present is eleven years in the making. Heck, I might even forget I’ve sent it to you by the time you open it. Right now, you’re eight years old and I’m watching through th
e window while you play outside with Old Blue. That dog sure does love you. You’ll be nineteen when you get this, which probably means you’re wondering why I didn’t send this to you on your eighteenth birthday, when you were first allowed to explore Pangea with no restraints. The truth is, I wanted you to be able to experience Pangea for a whole year before I gave this to you. I wanted you to make your own choices and find your way in the game. In short, to become the player you want to be.

  Do you remember when you asked me what I do and I told you I made magic? You were so impressed and fascinated. You told me that you wanted to make magic when you grew up. Hopefully by now, you know that what I really do is create the magic items and abilities used in Pangea. Here’s the kicker, I made one just for you. We’re not technically supposed to do this, but I figured since it will be eleven years before you get this, hopefully the statute of limitations will be long passed.

  I love you, son. And I look forward to seeing the man you become.

  Love,

  Dad

  P.S. I’ve attached a map and a key. Let me know once you find it.

  For a moment, I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can do it stare at the message in front of me. Fenrir licks my fingers, sensing my unrest.

  My father was a developer for Pangea Online.

  Those memories. Those dreams. They were all real. The big black dog, his name was Old Blue. That means the woman was my mother and that they both died in a car accident. Then how did I end up in an orphanage? Why didn’t I have family come and take me home? My entire life has been a lie. How did no one know my family?

  I log out of Pangea and search the web for any information I can find on Howard Allen.

  ‘Howard Allen, young video game developer for Pangea Online, dies in car crash with wife. Leaves behind young son.’

  ‘Car crashes a thing of the past? Automated vehicles were supposed to be safer. Today, a promising young life was taken when the automated vehicle drove down an embankment, killing both occupants inside.’

  ‘Howard Allen discusses his take on magic, and why Pangea was able to win out in the entertainment revolution.’

  ‘Son of distinguished developer disappears after parents die in car crash.’

  There are several articles on my father. Many on his work as a game designer and even more on the car crash that killed him and my mother. In all of the articles, though, there is no mention of me being there. The articles say that I just disappeared. After the crash, no one could find me. I was there, though. I know I was.

  I need to go to the orphanage. Maybe they can tell me how I ended up there.

  I order a taxi and a few moments later, it docks with my door. I climb inside and it takes me across Civic City back to The Boxes. The rundown box that is the orphanage is just as depressing as ever. I called ahead, so they are expecting me.

  When I step through the door, the room is filled with children with wide eyes.

  “You’re pretty famous around these parts, Esil,” says Mr. Green. He has run the orphanage for years. His hair is bald down the center and two white clouds of hair surround his head. I remember him as a stern man. A stickler for the rules and swift with justice to those who would break them. “It’s not very often one of our own becomes one of the most famous players in Pangea. Do you have any advice for those who want to follow in your footsteps?”

  I didn’t come here to give a pep talk. “Uhm, eat your veggies.” Dammit, I forgot they don’t get veggies here. “I mean, keep your head up and don’t stop believing. Can we talk in private, Mister Green?”

  He leads me down a hall into a small office.

  “I never thought I would see you around these parts again. If I had a chance to get out, I’d never come back. So, what brings you here, Esil?”

  “Sir, how did I end up at the orphanage? Who brought me here?”

  “Ah, the question every child wants to know eventually. Why did I become an orphan?” He pauses and touches the tips of his fingers together. “We found you walking the streets. Your head was bleeding and you were mumbling something. You know how unsafe it is out there and we couldn’t just leave you. It took you a few weeks before you were able to talk again. You had no memory of who you were other than your name.”

  “And you didn’t think to find out?” My anger rises. How could they not ask questions?

  “Oh, we asked around. But you know as well as I do how helpful the outside world is to those of us in The Boxes. We searched for anyone looking for a missing child. Nothing came up so the authorities left you with us. I know this isn’t the easiest place to grow up, but we did the best we could.”

  No one was looking for me because my parents were dead.

  My next stop is the Civic City Police Department. If anyone can help me, it will be them.

  After an hour wait, someone finally agrees to see me.

  “So you’re saying that you are the missing son of this developer who died eleven years ago?” A burly woman with red hair pulled up into a messy bun stares across a plain, metal table at me.

  “Yes.”

  “You got any proof?”

  “No.”

  “Any family that can verify your story?”

  “No.”

  She taps annoyingly at a pad in front of her.

  “What do you want me to do, kid?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, point me in the right direction.”

  She taps at the pad some more before speaking.

  “Here’s the deal.” She looks down at the pad as she talks, reading from an article. “Howard Allen and his wife, Isabelle, had no surviving family members. They were both only children and their parents were deceased at the time of their death. They had one child, Esil Allen, who you claim to be, but who was never heard from after the accident. Two years after their death, their belongings became property of the state and were auctioned off to the highest bidder. Even if you are who you say you are, the only thing you’re heir to is a name. I suggest you drop it and carry on with the life you have.” She stares blankly at me.

  “So that’s it then. I just let it go.”

  “You can go to court and attempt to prove that you’re their child, but that would be a long process. And expensive. I wouldn’t recommend it. If you are who I think you are, based on the shirt you’re wearing and your resemblance to the character in Pangea, then I think you’ve got bigger problems right now. A lot of people are pulling for the underdog. You don’t want to let them down.”

  I leave the police station and go home. Feeling no closer to solving anything than I was before I left. It all seems so hopeless.

  I have a family I will never see other than the few memories that sporadically appear. Some people are just destined to be alone, I guess. The worst part is that I’m not that sad. Having never known my family, it doesn’t hurt that they aren’t there. What hurts is what might have been.

  My only option right now is to help the family I do have. Buzz and Grayson have been there for me every step of the way and I’m not going to let them down. Buzz’s mom is depending on me. I’m going to take the map and key my dad left me and I’m going to find the treasure he hid. He said it was a one-of-a-kind spell. Maybe it will help me in the tournament.

  Once I am back in Pangea, I message Buzz and Grayson. I want them with me for whatever I find.

  I equip the map my dad gave me and it shows up in the bottom left of my vision, opposite my normal map. I also have a physical copy I can hold in my hand. It has several handwritten notes around the edges. The map is labeled ‘Greenwich Gardens,’ with a five-digit code written underneath. Scribbled beside the numbers it says ‘passcode’.

  Greenwich Gardens is a private world. There’s no cost to enter, but only those who have the code can go in.

  I send Buzz and Grayson the code and focus on Greenwich Gardens as I jump through my portal. I stop at a metal door. The silver door has five digital number boxes to enter the passcode. I enter in 92095. The door hisses and
then opens.

  The portal lets me out in an empty street. A long strip of black pavement with dotted yellow lines stretches out in front of me. Along both sides, dozens of two-storied houses with white picket fences line the street. Each one has its own defining features. Red shutters. A flag with a lion head. A bird fountain. They are all the same, yet all different.

  “What the hell is this place?” asks Buzz. He takes off his helm and holds it under one arm. His eyes scan the streets and surrounding houses.

  A red dot glows on the map in my bottom left vision. We’re close. This must not be a very big world.

  Grayson shows up a minute later. I tell them both about the message I got from my father. About the visions and dreams, the orphanage and the police station. They both have wide eyes by the time I’m done. It’s a lot to take in.

  “So, you mean to tell me you’re the son of some famous developer and essentially have no shot at getting anything out of it?” asks Buzz.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” says Grayson. “Have you tried talking to Pangea? Going to their office or anything?”

  “No, the policewoman made it seem like it was all pretty much hopeless. Everything they owned was sold.”

  “You never know, they could have stock or a percentage of the company. It’s worth looking into.”

  “Yeah, maybe when this is all over. It’s not like I have any way of proving I’m his son.”

  “Maybe not, but he found you somehow. I’m sure you received a new account at the orphanage. Especially if you didn’t remember who you were. There was a way for his message to find you. That might be the key.”

  What Grayson says makes sense, but the priority is finding this spell. Grayson’s necklaces jingle as we walk down the street. We take a left on Harris Avenue, a right onto Wingfoot Place, another right onto Spaulding Avenue. Monte Vista Drive is a dead end. A sign on the sidewalk calls it a cul-de-sac. The red dot beams brightly over the house at the end.