Their voice was strange compared to the dual-tone [Mechanoid]s. I swiveled around while rubbing Dusk’s head.
“Want to buy a spaceship?” The man’s smile was downright silly. It went well with his short, round body. [Teeny]s were even smaller than I’d thought. Thread knotted through his hair on one side, and a pair of thick welding goggles hung around the player’s neck.
“Got one already.” I thumbed at the lump of metal behind me.
“Damn. I keep hoping someone will buy this hunk of junk.” The other player stomped a tiny foot. The smile seemed permanently etched on his face.
“Maybe.” The word came out slowly, and I shrugged. I had no idea how much his ship would cost. At least a few months of gameplay would be required if I had wanted to buy it.
“Ah well, who are you, what are you here for?”
“Hermes. I got a task to drop by and join some arena event. This is the right place, I hope?”
“Great. I’m TLM.” He held out his hand.
I gingerly shook his offered limb—it was small in my grasp—and felt as though I was shaking hands with a toddler.
“Trial is this way,” he said.
“TLM?” I asked.
“TheLittleMan. I used to have a real name, but the guild nickname stuck when I switched games. Hey, I ask all the newbies, but how did you get the quest for this?”
“I asked?” My eyebrows wrinkled a bit. What was so special about fighting other players? I remembered in my teenage years that people used to do all sorts of player-versus-player combat. It had never interested me or felt special.
“I’ve never seen a Mechanoid doing it. Your race almost never needs to.”
“They sent me here. My current tasks weren’t getting many character points.” I wanted to increase my skills, but this should help. Advance Online rewarded people for duels like they did for any other event.
“What? Really?” he squeaked, surprised at my answer.
I tried not to give him a weird look and shook my head.
The tiny fellow kept talking. “Your race must like you.”
“I guess.” I tapped over to the reputation window of my interface and stared. Sure, it was high, but that was also limited to the [Wayfarer Seven]’s consortium with minor gains across my entire race.
“Come on. We’ve got to move,” he said. The sharp squeak to his voice took a lot to understand. “The guys will love someone new popping in.”
Being on another race’s ship was weird. The prospect of being here to battle other humans in digital combat also had me out of sorts. My ability to stay calm had improved over months of practice in Continue, but I still often felt the rush of unease. Exercises in positive thinking helped, and soon the moment of panic was under control.
Did stage fright ever go away? I’d gotten used to dealing with customers working for Trillium. Hopefully these butterflies would eventually become a thing of the past. Choosing to do virtual battle against another person could only help.
I felt proud for deciding to pursue player-versus-player combat without any prompting by a quest from the Voices. Most of my own development had been done to complete their quests. James especially could press my buttons and get me moving with his questions.
“Another one for the rankings!” TLM shouted as we rounded a mud-walled corner.
I stepped in behind the shorter player and saw a mess of other people.
“Hey!” an older lady said. Her face looked damaged from burns. She nodded in our direction but managed to get half a smile across. “Someone else is on this quest?”
“Goddammit. A Mechanoid? Who honestly plays those?” another player said. I looked over to see a human with two side arms and a short sword on his belt.
“Just ’cause you picked a boring human,” TheLittleMan said.
“Hey, fuck you. You’re in last place and suck,” the human player said.
They all had something to say about that. Most of them insulted the human player, and a few stood up for TheLittleMan.
“Last place? Rankings?” I interjected between all of them.
Only TLM heard my question. “Yeah. Newcomers receive ten points; you get a match with everyone here. A win gains you one of their points, a loss costs you one. Reach zero and you’re out.” I wasn’t sure how he could stand looking up at everyone in the room, but he managed.
“What’s the point?”
“Top three gets picked by the Commander to move on,” he said and shrugged one tiny shoulder. I almost missed the motion entirely.
“Is it elimination or do we keep going?” I didn’t care about the points so much as the experience. There were a lot of people in the room to practice against, assuming I could handle the first one without getting too worked up. I had to think of them as monsters, like in the Continue Online universe.
“Oh sure. Fight however much you want. Those two have been basically trading their points back and forth for hours.” TLM waved at two other players.
One had to be a [Cricket] race. He, she, glared at me through pitch black eyes. The other was human and decked out in heavy armor.
“It’s kind of dull. Fresh blood will do us all good,” TLM said.
“Can I watch?”
“Nope! If it’s your first night in a fight ring, you have to fight!” TLM laughed, and many of the others joined in.
My heart rate jumped from hearing everyone find amusement at my confusion. This idea had been both good for me as a person, and terrible.
“MrJohnson!” TLM said in a squeaky accent. “You in for this one?”
“Sure,” a giant player responded.
I looked over to see a huge player with dirt-colored arms crossed. Each limb was easily thicker than my torso. Small vines wove in between the dirt-looking veins.
“Neat.” I tried to sound positive.
The other players in the room laughed. TLM pointed at the bright light on the floor that had appeared.
MrJohnson has challenged you to a duel
A win will provide [1] point
A loss will remove [1] point
Will you accept?
Yes? No?
I hesitated for a moment and swallowed. Music played in my head and one foot tapped. The mental displacement exercises were helping me keep calm in the face of this kind of situation. My finger reached for the yes button.
The ground around MrJohnson and me sank downward. Behind me, a shimmer of opaque blue rippled into being. I looked around and tried to understand what was going on, learning my surroundings in preparation. It seemed to be a square with no cover points. Eventually, the ground stopped moving, leaving us in a huge pit ten feet deep.
Other players stepped toward the edge and looked down.
So my first player-versus-player combat in Advance Online involved me against an absolute giant. I bristled a little and felt upset that my increased mass meant nothing in the face of a [Behemoth]. His head easily cleared the arena’s walls. The [Behemoth] was far more impressive across the room than it had been in the character creation screen.
“I love newbies,” MrJohnson said.
I got ready to flick on the [Power Suit] but chose not to activate it quite yet. The ability drained my energy, and I would need it.
A small circle displayed between us with a countdown. The [Behemoth] player, MrJohnson, smiled and cracked his rocky knuckles. Dirt flaked off and hit the ground. On behalf of all [Mechanoid]s in the world, I felt annoyed by the mess being made. This place needed dozens of [ByteMite]s to show improvement.
The countdown hit zero, and he lifted one arm like a maestro signaling for increased volume. Flooring quivered in small circles, and spikes shot out of the ground rapidly. More came as the ground shook. I swallowed a moment of panic, then dove to one side. My feet were lifted off the ground as a few of the earthen cones dug into my legs, dealing decent damage.
“Voices!” I shouted while lamenting how unprepared the [Behemoth] had caught me.
His next move created
a wall of earth that bisected our square arena. My face slammed into the newest obstruction, and I fell to the ground.
Dusk stood above on a ledge, staring at me.
I wrinkled my eyebrows together and looked at him. “You helping?”
Dusk yawned, then did his shrug move.
“His pet’s ignoring him. What a joke,” the human jerk from earlier said.
“Fine!” I got up and twisted behind the wall, barely dodging another wave of ground spikes. This newest earthen formation crumbled.
If MrJohnson wanted to play a ranged game, I would give it a whirl too. This was practice for me after all. No time like now to try out new stuff.
[Power Suit] flicked on. My body shifted, and things felt heavier. I readied my [Heavy Weapon Core]’s prime weapon, the large one that fired rapidly and tore through objects. Metal flowed and rippled in my hands as handles formed. A grin crossed my face. I looked at the crumbling wall, then at Dusk. He was staring across the room at a different location. That was my cue to switch target zones—MrJohnson was trying to flank me and that couldn’t be allowed.
Using Dusk like this was probably unfair. Using Dusk at all was generally horribly rude in the terms of gameplay. My little buddy had helped me in far too many ways.
“Agggh!” I couldn’t help but scream out while blasts cranked out toward Dusk’s area of interest. The wall shattered as clumps of dirt mixed with lasers.
“Whoa shit,” someone above commented. I heard a few of the others laughing.
“Whoop. Shit. Ah god.” MrJohnson covered his face with both mountainous arms. He seemed unprepared for my rampaging attack.
I tilted the gun back slightly and aimed for his head. The chamber’s rotational motions vibrated my hands, sending numbed sensations up one shoulder. I smiled in momentary exaltation. Feeling this kind of destructive power and getting the chance to use it was addictive. The gun’s stream of blasts tapered off, and MrJohnson’s health had only gone down a quarter. This attack method had slaughtered miles of smaller creatures back on the [Wayfarer Seven], which meant [Behemoth]s had way too much survival ability.
I glared at the weapon and tried to remember Emerald’s advice. The weapon was useless without recharging, so I cannibalized it for two [Mechanical Minion]s. An earthen wall shot up as my gun rapidly reconfigured into two cat-sized metal monsters.
My hand reached for the next weapon being activated. My two-pronged laser sword clicked on. I triggered the [Domestic Trainer] ability and set my mentally vacant metal minions on MrJohnson. The dual sword and I followed up.
MrJohnson wasn’t sitting idle either. A swirl of yellow and green light flashed behind the wall as his health bar slowly recovered. I growled and triggered another [Mechanical Minion]. My body reduced in size accordingly. My reckless charge meant the third slid around, trying to both gain a solid shape and follow the generic [Attack] command being issued.
The three pets and their metallic nails clanked across the floor. Nails dug out grooves of our dirt floor. I jumped up and once again wished for the [Blink] ability. My feet cleared the wall top by using a combination of [Brawn] and [Finesse].
“Shit!” he shouted. MrJohnson’s face was focused on three approaching tiny [Mechanical Minion]s, but his eyes caught sight of me at the last minute.
I felt proud to see the other player’s startled look. A sudden surge of dirty green and orange flashed on his arm. It swept across, catching me and making my [Mechanoid] body fly even higher.
MrJohnson ignored the munching monsters climbing all over him like angry robot chickens. His health took minor damage. I was still airborne. Color swirled again. This time, he lifted both arms and the ground beneath my form bubbled.
“The eyes!” I shouted at my little minions.
I tossed my sword and commanded it to shift into a fourth [Mechanical Minion]. By the Voices, I was going to push this ability for all it was worth. Even if I ended up smaller than TLM as a result.
“Nice try!” MrJohnson yelled back.
My former two-handed sword’s hilt complied and turned into a super tiny monster. It followed the rest of my swarm’s orders and tried desperately to get to MrJohnson’s eyes. None of it stopped the latest forming spike from impaling me right in the gut.
“Ahhh!” I had no way to dodge midair, and my health bar lost a huge chunk. Belatedly I realized that each [Mechanical Minion] used also reduced my health bar’s maximum. “Voices!”
“Here it comes,” someone behind me muttered, but the words rang.
MrJohnson was losing health steadily. I could see him through an eye that buzzed with static. The damage to my health was making my visual signals drop.
“That newb’s screwed.”
Concentration was hard. Words spun through as time seemed to blur. Emerald had said to throw it away. Treasure had told me to show [Mechanoid] superiority. William Carver’s legacy was to be a fighter. Shazam’s mountaintop training. Requiem’s abuse. I was no longer that same scared man. Those things mattered, even here in a new game.
I was the man in the arena, and giving up was not an option. This was my road to travel.
Activating [Mechanical Minion]’s ability multiple times hurt worse than being impaled on a spike. The ARC feedback felt unkind. Vision blurred in and out with static. Audio broke up. I screamed and ground my teeth.
Small metal versions of Dusk clumped together from my side. I could see feet and tails rapidly climbing down the giant spike holding me up. With each body formed, my side had less mass and felt lighter. At minion number six, I slid down the pillar’s side and hit bottom.
Jerky legs and an arm pushed me from behind the pillar. MrJohnson didn’t notice my liberated and broken status. He was too busy channeling that swirl of colors and energy into some giant effect. I grit my teeth, readied one good arm, and fired my tiny wrist laser.
The mess of minions hit MrJohnson as the ground rumbled and rolled. Something big was happening, but I kept shooting. His health dropped fast.
Everything down here felt like an earthquake was hitting. The spike I had been impaled on turned into a porcupine. Whatever it was doing didn’t stop there. Everything heaved as it sank back into dirt and kept right on going. I ceased firing and pushed myself over while crying out from pain again.
My face planted into the ground, and moving was even harder. My body didn’t respond right due to the large chunks of it missing and my mental anguish. A message popped up telling me that somehow I was crippled and my [Energy Core] was damaged.
“Hah!” someone shouted. “Look at that. He actually won.”
I opened eyes that had closed. Braving combat was a bit different from handling a giant earthquake spell.
“Well played,” MrJohnson said. His face looked like an absolute wreck. The health above him flashed red at one percent.
My [Mechanical Minion] army was standing still. At some point, Dusk had leapt down and was inspecting the littlest with a sniff.
“Yeah,” I said.
The fight had been over quick, maybe less than a minute, and it still felt like a rush. Adrenaline was speeding through me and reducing some of the pain perception being presented by the ARC feedback.
I closed my eyes and triggered the command to put myself back together. The abrupt change of direction from my swarm made Dusk hiss in annoyance. My body lay there huffing as the [Mechanical Minion] army merged with this crazily designed [Mechanoid] character. The pain ruling my brain dulled.
MrJohnson also lay there huffing while the crowd above chattered. About ten minutes later, I had fully recovered, including absorbing the mess of [Mechanical Minion]s. As soon as everything had settled into place, TLM sent me a challenge message.
“Let’s go!” his squeaky voice shouted.
I sighed heavily and glanced at the shorter player. My hand reached for the Yes, and our arena set back up again. The [Behemoth] grumbled while climbing out of the forming pit. Moments later, we were in combat.
This little
guy was insanely hoppy. My vision faltered as he ran in. I barely had time to breathe before opening fire with my Gatling laser. From there, I unleashed the tried and true heavy gun tactic of spray and pray.
The battles continued. Near the end of my first ten fights, the score was about even: six wins and four losses. I felt proud for getting that far. TLM was hard to beat. Only a few lucky shots had helped me win against him. The two current top-ranking players had easily destroyed me despite the tricks I pulled.
We had another hour to waste before our ships would reach [The Lone Tower]. TLM and two others kept up the challenges, but I thought they were going easy on me. Playing around. I got a few pointers from the [Cricket] who had stomped me in the face earlier.
By the fifteenth match, I felt better about player fights. Not perfect, but far less worried than I had been during the war or while dealing with Requiem. Everyone’s abilities were different, and trying to figure out ways to counter a [Cricket]’s disorientation-inducing chirps was hard.
A small crew of people walked onto the arena’s floor. I was between matches, resting my brain, and had time to see them arrive. All four people wore the same militarized blue-and-dark-gray gear. They were clearly NPCs. In the front was a woman with an annoyed frown.
“We’re here. You three—based on the ranks, you’ll each get a chance to plead your cases before the Mistborn. Use it wisely.” She swiveled around without sparing us a hello or good-bye.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Viola Queenshand,” the man next to me said.
I looked down at the [Teeny], TheLittleMan.
“She was the commander at the station we left,” he said.
I tried to peg the name. It sounded familiar, but at the same time, it didn’t. A new message popped up to distract me from the memory recollection attempt.
Attention unit identified as Hermes!
Reward for performance issued:
Increased public opinion of [Mechanoid]s in this system.
A single session with [Mistborn], results may vary dependent upon your conversation.
“Neat.” I hadn’t realized these duels had left me in third place. Now if only I understood why talking to a [Mistborn] mattered in the slightest, things might make more sense.
Continue Online The Complete Series Page 103
