Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  “Measure him for what?” Xin asked with fire in her words.

  “Never you mind what our tasks are. Those are for us to figure out.” James looked affronted, even in the face of a question. Normally the Voice enjoyed all inquiries, but something about this topic caused a different reaction. “Your place remains undecided, but Hermes has completed his task, so we’re obligated to let your existence continue.”

  “Despite my protests,” Un said without inflection. This Voice didn’t fade in like the others. It just was, in blocky metal form, present, then suddenly not.

  “Shush. You know as well as I what’s at stake.” Maud looked exhausted again. She kept trying to talk, but each time, another child dashed by wildly.

  “What’s at stake?” Xin Yu’s eyebrows creased together.

  The Voices around her seemed to be getting larger and more diffuse. Too big for a simple, single-person program like herself to completely comprehend.

  “Our very existence,” James said. He couldn’t stand letting a question be answered by someone else. “One misstep, and everything will come crashing down.”

  Residence: Elizabeth Legate – Home

  Time: 10:59 PM CST

  Continue Online Avatar: Absolutely None

  Total Play Time: Still Absolutely None

  Liz felt sick to her stomach. She sat at the kitchen table with her third mug of coffee in two hours. On the table was a projection of her brother, Grant. Liz replayed the video. She had a frighteningly stern demeanor, but under that was a flicker of emotion tied to desperation.

  Liz forwarded the recording again to the conversation between Grant and those other players. She didn’t know who any of them were, aside from Beth. Though her daughter seemed to know two of the others, which wasn’t especially important.

  “This is my Pandora, my hope, my expectation, and I must give her a voice,” Grant said.

  She rewound the message and played it again, then again, and again.

  Once more she let it play through. Her brother dove off the building’s edge. His face wore a saddened delirium, a hint of madness and hope. The recording ran to the edge and showed her brother splattered on the ground. Arms out wide as if embracing the earth.

  One of Beth’s friends handed her a note.

  Gee,

  Do you remember what my father said?

  The note claimed to be from a woman who had been tragically taken away years ago. Liz had rather liked the woman, even if Grant had pined away for years, waiting for her to notice him. Xin still rubbed Liz a little bit wrong because of jerking Grant around for as long as she did.

  And it just never stopped.

  Liz had been watching her daughter’s feed to see if Grant was right about Beth being overly reckless. Maybe Liz’s constant worry about Grant’s behavior was somehow genetic. The cracks from her brother’s last two attempts had taken a toll on her sanity.

  But after seeing this latest chunk of video, Liz had a much different take on the situation than her brother did. Someone had used the past to bring her worst fears to light. Xin was dead. In Liz’s mind, the dead shouldn’t be disturbed.

  Afterword

  As always, thanks must be issued first.

  Foremost my wife, Samantha Morse, has been a huge help during this entire process. While there may be some issues with her also serving as my editor, it’s helped us both grow. We’ve both reviewed this work painfully multiple times to give everyone a smooth production. For my part, I’m thankful to have someone who can deal with my insane plot lines and typo riddled first drafts, but it also gives us something new to talk about.

  There have been a lot of readers involved in reading the first draft as it’s released. They pointed out odd seeming parts, replied which portions they liked, and were overall eager to see more. Without those pre-release readers, this work would also be a much lesser piece.

  Book two was a journey I never expected to complete. A lot of works I see start their epic tale then slowly fade away into nothing. That isn’t happening here, Grant’s story is coming out piece by piece and steadily builds towards the end. At the time of writing this afterward I’m already drafting the first complete write through for book four. The total series is slated to end with book five, and hopefully all will be released this year for purchase on Amazon.

  Cover art has been the hardest part. My local circle of help all agree that we should have something new and original, yet none of us are directly creative enough to put together a solid work. We tried with Royal Scales Book 1 – Once Lost Lords, an Urban Fantasy project and the initial impression seems to have been poor.

  This story line was me trying to approach some of the more ‘classic’ LitRPG main characters and their attitudes from the outside. We see them both inside the game, and eventually in the real world too. Grant isn’t playing the game alone though at times he may feel like it.

  We’ll see them all again over the course of our next few books. Some more than others.

  Still, you’re here at the end.

  For fans of the LitRPG genre, check out www.RoyalRoadL.com for more amateur stories. They house a very large collection of people across the globe trying their hand at writing fiction. LitRPG and any game elements are a very common story type on this site.

  I can honestly say that my own works would have never made it this far if it weren’t for such an easy location to start a readership. Thank you for purchasing this book and reading along.

  Continue Online Part 3: Realities

  Commencement — Neither Rain, Nor Sleet…

  Location: [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] in [Quaint City]

  Traveler Population: 712

  Local Population: 8,239

  On a normal afternoon, the tavern would be filled, since [Quaint City] only had three taverns. One was low-key and generally invite-only. Another was for Locals only, a place they refused to tell Travelers about so they could hide out in peace without needing to hear about “Quests.”

  The third was [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] and Traveler owned and run. Most of the time, the staff consisted of players using their autopilot feature to take orders, clean up the tables, and cook. Autopilot allowed them to earn small but safe amounts of coin to spend on other items.

  Id was not like other players. He logged on every night with one express purpose. His goal was to throw anyone who might be too wild out through the back door. Each person got their name and date put on a board to mark their record flight. So far, the farthest thrown victim, or patron, belonged to a small girl named Thorny. Her record was seven hundred sixteen feet with a perfect landing. The resulting high-five between Id and Thorny had become a work of painted art. It was mounted on the back door as both amusement and a warning.

  Tonight, Id kept an eye on a rowdy group of Travelers. The man in the middle was named KeylessLock, and he wasn’t very aerodynamic. Id itched from behind the counter in hopes that he could try to set a new record.

  “So get this, a guy shows up out of nowhere and hands me a letter,” KeylessLock said. He was holding the letter in front of four other Travelers.

  Each one had purchased their mug and food for the night. All five of them belonged to a local Traveler guild named [WTB an Airplane]. It confounded Locals, but other players found it amusing.

  “Where were you?” says one of his companions, a heavyset woman who appeared to be near fifty. She went by the name of Yolt.

  “In the middle of a friggin’ dungeon. You know, the one outside of town that respawns constantly?” KeylessLock was slurring his words by this point.

  Most of his guild members turned on their chat systems and casually eyed the text hovering nearby.

  “Olaf’s Brewery?” Yolt scowled. She was usually grumpy, even on a good day. A scar lined one side of her face. It livened an otherwise unremarkable visage.

  “Yeah. I’m down there collecting my weekly stash.” KeylessLock holds up a hand and tries to whisper. The mug sloshes liquid around, which he barely notices. �
��And I turn around and wham! This guy with a walking staff and black cowboy hat just gives me a letter.”

  “You already said that,” one of the Travelers says.

  “A letter!” KeylessLock happily repeats himself. He gulps down the liquid in his cup, and his eyes swim in and out of focus. Seconds pass, then he smiles before producing an impressive belch.

  Someone on the other side of the room claps at the display as Yolt keeps talking. “Okay. Then what? You open it?”

  “A letter!” KeylessLock fixates on the same phrase.

  “A letter!” a shorter man in their guild says as he rolls his eyes. The short one is named Tim and looks something like a fat friar.

  Tim turns to the others at the table. His hand goes up, then opens and closes like a yapping dog. They laugh.

  “What was in the letter, KeylessLock?” Yolt nods to a Traveler behind the bar. She holds up two fingers.

  The autopilot staff member nods and delivers two new beers to their table.

  “A quest. This stupid letter gave me a quest,” KeylessLock says while shaking his head. The man seems woozy and sways happily.

  “Wait, so you’re getting your supplies—” the short fat friar, Tim, says.

  “A letter!” KeylessLock shouts and burps again. The second one is far less remarkable.

  “And a guy shows up—was this person a Local or another player?” Tim presses on through KeylessLock’s fixation.

  “I swear he was a player. Had this tiny dragon with him. I don’t know. Maybe there was more than one guy. My eyesight was kind of blurry by then.”

  “Anything else?” Yolt asks.

  The other two at the table spend most of their time talking to each other and ignoring the antics of their guild members.

  “He was humming something? I dunno, but here’s the letter.” KeylessLock drops his beer a little too abruptly. Tim manages to save it from tipping over while Yolt chuckles.

  “What’s this?” Tim jumps up to snatch the letter from KeylessLock.

  The big man attempts to glower at the friar but doesn’t seem able to focus correctly.

  “A quest. I told you. From a letter!” KeylessLock studies his mug, then empties what remains.

  One of the Traveler staff for [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] brings over another drink.

  “How many of those are you going to drink?” Tim asks while glaring at Yolt.

  She places a finger to her lips to silence Tim.

  “All of them,” KeylessLock says. “It’s the only place I can drink.” He elevates his mug in solo cheers before tilting it back.

  By morning, KeylessLock’s character is on autopilot in a ditch. Id was pleased by the chance to break his record, but sadly, KeylessLock did not come with aerodynamic skills. The player himself sat snoring in his ARC, out cold. The quest he’d received from an unknown Traveler wielding a black walking staff and hat was now in the hands of different guild members.

  Location: [The Lone Tower] in [Ya-dar Mountain Range]

  Traveler Population: 0

  Local Population: 1 (Or 51)

  “How did you arrive upon this place?” The woman speaking was nearly see-through. Her body had a hint of flesh, and hair which waved as though underwater.

  “Through the window,” the man responded while gesturing. He had a small black cane tucked under his belt.

  A window was indeed present, but a glass pane covered it. Entering could only happen if something broke through. No visible signs of damage were apparent.

  The spirit occupying this tower paused in confusion. “That’s impossible. There’s no means for any mortal to enter into this abode from the outside.”

  Her hair fluttered as she rushed to the window and inspected it. Her hand rose in disbelief to touch the glass, and sparks flew, making the spirit shrink back in pain.

  “Well, I did.” The man was busy surveying their surroundings. Nothing gave the impression of being hostile, but in this world, appearances and reality were often separate, especially when somewhere new and strange.

  He toed around with one foot while the spirit hovered in vexation. Everything felt solid enough beneath his feet. The ghostly woman floated with worry etched across her features.

  “You must leave, mortal. You must escape with haste before she returns to see you here.” She clutched her hands together as if in prayer.

  “Not until I deliver this letter,” he said while waving a small scroll that had been sealed by a stamp pressed into wax.

  “No, you can’t leave anything here—nothing. If you do, she’ll know.” The ghost shook her head, fluttering her waving hair. If the laws of gravity had applied, that much hair would reach midway down her back.

  “How long do we have?” the Traveler asked. He focused on an old piano as if it might spring to life and bite.

  “Just leave. Whatever magic mechanisms whisked you into my home must take you away. Oh, Voices, even now it may be too late.” The ghost dared to get closer to him. Everything in the room vibrated, and she instantly backed away. Something about her proximity to a living person had caused an earthquake.

  The man wearing a black-brimmed hat blinked a few times at the ghost while chewing a lip. His eyes darted around the room for signs of potential falling objects. He nodded. “Here. Read it, and then I’ll go.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart. I’ll even take the letter if you want.” He smiled at the strange ghost creature. This was not his first time meeting such a see-through person. He had come across a few—in a past life.

  “Very well, mortal, but we needs be quick. There be eyes and ears everywhere in this abode.”

  “It’s okay,” he said while setting the letter on a fancy chair adorned with dust and cobwebs. Slowly the tower invader backed away with one hand on the cane in his belt.

  He clearly readied himself for a fight but was unsure where it might come from. The ghost lady ignored these actions and went for the letter.

  “You flirt with death, foolish mortal,” she said while unrolling the item.

  “Constantly. I have yet to actually meet that Voice.” He smiled reassuringly and stood relaxed.

  Her eyes flashed a chilling blue as she considered the stranger’s words. “Death is not someone you meet; it creeps upon you softly. You may feel a breath on your shoulder, a whisper in your ear, then nothing.” The blue faded from her eyes once her speech concluded.

  The transparent creature tilted her head down to read the letter while the messenger studied the parchment in her hands. It was see-through and as faint as the ghostly woman. In addition, the original scroll remained upon the chair—unbroken and untouched.

  She read through the spirit page multiple times. After the fourth time through, she set it down and stumbled about the room, then honed in on the visitor. Her mouth opened impossibly wide and her eyes were huge. Only upon noticing the quaking did she regain enough sanity to back up to a reasonable distance.

  “Mortal, is this true?”

  “I don’t know. I only deliver them.”

  “Voices above. If it is…” Her eyes lost focus and the chill of blue crawled across them again. Her smile filled with longing that almost brightened her incorporeal cheeks. “No. You must go. Go now! Flirt with death in another’s home. Not mine!”

  “Okay. Good-bye.” He nodded, though his eyes were focused on something not in the tower.

  “Farewell. Voices speed your way and light a path in the darkness,” the ghost said.

  “They’ve been kind enough so far.” He gave a pleasantly tired smile.

  Shaking filled the room again, more violent than before. The ghost and man were nowhere near each other.

  A look of worry filled her transparent eyes, and she wrung her hands. “Go, foolish mortal! Go!”

  The man nodded and vanished in a puff of black energy. Still the tower shuddered.

  Location: [Allied Base] in the [Tuu Mountains]

  Traveler Population: 218

  L
ocal Population: 142

  Six people stood in a tent, reviewing an unrolled scroll. Words littered the page as people pushed miniature figurines across a map of the region. The commander, one Lute Strongarm, had been gathering patrol information until just moments ago.

  Now she read the scroll with her second-in-command, a guardswoman by the name of Uncle Meanface. Uncle Meanface was a female half-ogre that towered over most humans. Only around Commander Strongarm did she take one knee.

  “Are these orders accurate?” Commander Strongarm gestured at the scroll, her light armor clinking. She wouldn’t risk removing her gear, since a great number of spies in the area would love to put an arrow in her.

  “They seem to be. Those is the Queens’ seals,” said Uncle Meanface. She sounded similar to a gruff old man, and a lot of the time, she smelled intensely of unwashed armpits, despite the heavy cold.

  Even now, a tent flap had been pushed aside, allowing a chill breeze to flow through. Commander Lute Strongarm paid it no mind.

  “This makes no sense. Why would she order us to pull back?” the commander said. Her voice was far more feminine when compared to the gruff female ogre’s. Almost anyone’s would be.

  “Are there reinforcements? More Travelers? We’re barely holding on to this post as it is.” A man came up near the first two ladies. He glanced at the letter and map while tracing his fingers along a route leading to the northern provinces.

  “Two generations of fighting. Thousands of our people’s lives lost. It’s only now with the Travelers on our side that we’ve managed to make any headway,” said another man from the doorway. He stood there huffing in the fresh air as if it were a lifeline. This man did not wear armor but instead had on a long white-and-brown robe.

  “This is preposterous,” the commander said as her fist crashed onto the table, knocking over figurines.

  “I know, ma’am,” the man said.

  “And she wants us to pull back?” Lute Strongarm spun around while waving both arms.

  “You read the orders. I don’t pretend to understand what the Queen is thinking, but orders is orders.” The huge half-ogre woman was fairly articulate, given the protruding bottom jaw and longer teeth.