I walked over to the dead [Sage’s Guardian] and tried to figure out what everyone else had been searching for. There didn’t seem to be any player loot. No one else showed happy faces over receiving rare gear.
“What’s this?” I asked while limping forward. Inside the dead [Sage’s Guardian] were a number of loose leaf pages. How had the others missed this?
“What’s what?” Xin asked as I lifted up the pieces of paper. Touching them made blackened pages sparkle with gold borders. “Weird, and neat. Where did you see that?”
Everything hurt as I bent over to get more pieces. A small stack of pages joined the first. Small numbers on the bottom right gave me an order to shuffle through.
“They were just lying here,” I responded.
We staggered to a bench. My shoulder leaned heavily upon Xin’s. Xin looked as bad as I felt, which probably meant I looked a mess. She seemed oblivious to what was in my hands, as if her eyes couldn’t parse any words out of the jumbled letters.
“Can you read them? They look like gibberish to me,” Xin asked.
My head bobbed. The handwriting was shaky. I tried to remember the name of those we sought. William Carver had been one person who held a key, and in this area should be another. Hopefully the [Sage’s Guardian]s played into it.
The journal name shown looked familiar, but I couldn’t draw a connection yet. This person, M. Shell, liked to interject other lines upon the first. Seeing scrawled notes jammed into the sidelines of his paper both confused and amused me.
I read it aloud while trying to put proper inflection upon the notes.
M. Shell’s Journal:
How can I explain this? The words I wrote are already no longer my own. One sentence later and the script changes to something more flowing and uses different words to convey an inaccurate meaning. This reality’s laws are taking effect in near real time.
I must admit such a feat is remarkable [I didn’t write this], and shows how daunting my task is. Imagine that, tampering with a creature so powerful she created a bubble of existence just sideways from our own that actively rewrites what we say. Is this why Locals are never overly upset at our presence?
[Dammit!] That isn’t a proper explanation. She spun a web? It uses the invisible spider’s web? A bubble around a bubble? [Why does it obfuscate even the simplest attempts to explain?! I would think this knowledge is safe to share at this stage.]
Take my world’s spider-spun webs. [Why spider webs? What nonsensical analogy is this?!] Tilt them sideways. Look between the cracks and form new words in a language we don’t know. There is where she’s hidden this world. All it would take is one single spell to bring it crashing down. And we’re trying to tamper even further. What fools are we to dare alter the very workings a being beyond the scope of sanity? […I wrote this one. We are fools.]
“Babe?” I broke from reading to see how my wife was doing.
Xin looked dazed. Travelers nearby were picking over dead bodies and counting up loot. A lot dug through the two absolutely brutalized mechanical robots. Our mission of fighting them had ended in sheer destruction of the machines.
Apparently the key had been removing them from their domes where all the enchantments wore woven in or crafted. I still didn’t understand what had happened. Blowing up the domes had probably ruined the encounter, which explained why no one else had tried it. The golden goose they had been harvesting for sellable wares had been destroyed.
“Babe?” I asked again while scanning through the remaining pages for anything that stood out.
“Gee.” Xin put a hand up to her head. “Sorry. I’m tired. That… took a lot more out of me than expected. Keep reading, please?”
We had both been in a place that was uncomfortable. I looked around a few times and scanned the area. Three of Xin’s skeletons sat around us with weapons at the ready. Dusk leapt through the ruins, chasing down fleeing [World Eater] spiders as if they were snacks.
I wrapped an arm around Xin’s side, then tried to give her arm a reassuring rub. She leaned inward but otherwise stared off into the distance. My thoughts were once again drowned out while I sought wisdom from M. Shell. This had to be Michelle from Carver’s journals, and something in here would hopefully make our recently suffered madness worthwhile.
M. Shell’s Journal:
I digress. I wanted to speak of the fine line between our world’s magic and this one. It’s useful knowledge even in crafting.
It took hours to pry access out of those two, and a deal with that babbling fool Yates, but it was worth the bribery. As I craft new items, it’s possible to manipulate threads of energy into the shape. Laying it out into form is almost like crafting magic in our first world. [Gods dammit!][GODS!?] Not crafting magic, laying patterns! Carving spells! [GODS, can I write nothing that would make sense?! I pity the soul who tries to make heads or tails of this!]
Never mind. Know this; intent is key. At first, we have to verbalize, move in a certain way, and let the spirits [Gods, spirits? Really?] adapt to what is inside our hearts. Intent repeated over and over becomes action. Action repeated over and over becomes a pattern to who we are. It explains why the first few Travelers to arrive start weak in everything, then grow. We can use this to alter the spells into a state that isn’t as easy to self-destruct. [Sadly this is almost starting to make sense][I DIDN’T WRITE THAT EITHER! STOP ADDING NOTES!]
It’s not even her doing this. The world itself is adapting. The false reality. Spider’s webs knotting together. [DAMMIT! LET ME WRITE PLAINLY.] This place is rapidly becoming a reality of its own but is still dependent upon my world’s magic to sustain itself.
If the issue is how a spell in our world might hunt down this frail spider’s web, then we need only change the silk it’s made from. The others agree, but can we complete the task in time?
The final piece of paper looked to be scrawled in a much hastier writing. I looked around again. The other Travelers were gathering farther away, toward the center of town.
Xin’s body hung limply next to me. She didn’t show any signs of improving despite the healing spells which had been cast earlier.
“Maybe you should log out, or go back to [Haven Valley] with a scroll?” I suggested.
“No,” she said simply. “Keep reading, please.” Her fingers wove between mine, and the dulled rainbows in our rings glinted.
I took a breath. She couldn’t leave me any more than I could abandon her. We were stuck together until the end. Both eyes threatened to water, and I struggled to right myself. The smells of burning bugs were pushed out.
M. Shell’s Journal:
To whoever finds this journal, know that I, M. Shell, the greatest crafter to walk this world [HOW CONCEITED DO YOU THINK I AM?] until the arrival of all other Travelers, am most likely dead. You may ask how, but if you can read this message for what it is, you likely already know part of the reason. Worse still, this note should only display when certain conditions are present in the world abroad.
I and a few like-minded people have tried to create contingencies in case all of reality is threatened. There’s no way to know which ones will come to fruition. I do so hope it’s not too late, and that one of these methods works.
The mental projection artifact in my home has been heavily modified, and what protection Travelers are normally afforded has been removed. This was done to allow me to perform magics dangerous but needed. For the cause that you too are part of, else you could not see these papers. Our deeply laid spells have already started to affect you. [I give up on trying to write sane words.]
Ironic that my love for this world and its existence is what will kill me in the end. Was that the intent? Did she choose me, Carver, or Yates because of what we might do?
You who follow in my footsteps, take heed of the price for loving a land not your own. Think heavily on the line between safety and savior. Ye god of my world [Look, now I’m writing this nonsense by choice], Yates forever spouts his poetry, but at some point, it�
�s fitting despite my distaste for the man. Know that these things you set your heart upon, sooner or later must the soul destroy!
Should you already have made up your mind, seek Yates and Carver. [Or just Yates if you risk his insanity. Carver’s already paid a heavy price in our testing and I know not how much is left of the man.]
“Over here!” TockDoc yelled in my direction. “That door is open!”
Dwight had survived the mess somehow and was waving clanking metal arms to shush the man with giant rubber boots. My wife and I looked at each other. One eyebrow went up, to which Xin shrugged. We slowly stood, then hobbled over.
Session Ninety-Six — The Crown of Laurels
Travelers and autopilots pushed objects aside, allowing us room to get into the deep pit. Awesome and company marched ahead of my wife and me. I wasn’t awake enough to notice much more than their general shapes.
The ARC connection stuttered occasionally from strain. Eventually I would pass out entirely, then probably wake up far too late for the grand reveal. Every breath as we plodded along brought me closer to exhaustion. [Breathing] in game went up in small ticks with each lungful of digital air I managed to power through.
“Come on.” TockDoc waved us forward. “The door’s open still, but I’m not sure how long it stays open.”
I had a hard time focusing on him. Pulling an all-nighter had worked out for the mission, but we were close to eleven in the morning and I hadn’t gotten enough rest.
“We’re going too. There’s no way we’re going to not see what this is,” Awesome shouted across the city ruins while running toward us. His eyes were bright despite his tattered clothes. One of his legs limped, and I could only wonder what sort of debuffs plagued the man’s character.
[Inspection] didn’t tell me a lot about other people besides their name and health total. Maybe investing in a medical skill like SheHulk had would have been helpful. There were so many little abilities that amounted to eye candy in this game. Special effects, ones which increased debilitations, minor bonuses to performance under certain conditions.
I’d gotten one months ago called [Battle Hum] that gave me extra [Coordination] as long as the song being hummed had rhythm. Xin probably had one called [Alluring] that increased attractiveness the more clothes I got off of her. A snort of amusement escaped me.
Being tired made half my thoughts incomplete and the others refused to line up properly. I stared briefly at SheHulk and TinkerHell and wondered how they’d gotten together, much less hooked up with Awesome. Xin’s fingers dug into my arm and suggested that maybe I was looking a bit too closely.
“All these years working for Trillium, and there’s still so much about this game I don’t know,” the guild leader muttered to himself.
The change of pace brought other questions to mind. I asked Awesome in a rush of words, “Did you know Michelle? Or whoever Carver was? Maybe Yates?”
“I met David once. Carver. He was the man in charge of the first ARC project. That was around six years ago when I first became a manager in marketing. He needed someone on board to test the game early. That’s how I got into the beta.” Awesome looked bashful for a moment. The action reminded me of his son, who often wore the same vaguely embarrassed expression.
The corridor went on far too long for me. SheHulk took the lead with her battered shield at the ready. Most people were staying up top in case more player killers or [World Eater]s existed. Some apparently had headed out to check the two [Sage’s Guardian]s that had not escaped their domes.
“I can’t wait to see what’s down here.” TockDoc rubbed his hands together and grinned widely. A glow appeared as his hands lit up with faint green.
We could finally see better. Burned out wiring lined the walls. Not even a small spark of electricity remained.
“What are those?” I asked while pointing at the gloves. They were more interesting than the repetitive scenery. This wrecked wiring went on for miles.
“Kinetically activated glow-in-the-dark mittens,” TockDoc said proudly as we walked. “Rub them together, and the friction creates light!”
“These puppies were one of the town’s export goods.” Dwight waved at TockDoc’s hands while smiling. “We were so close to striking it rich with our patents.”
“You can’t patent in this game,” TinkerHell stated.
“You can, or close enough to make money. First of a kind gives rewards, and NPCs eat new goodies up like candy.” Dwight rubbed his own hands together, creating a second glow.
Dwight had a set on as well. Under their glow, we could see his reduced amount of armor. Nearly half the clanking metal had vanished. What remained looked battered. Straps with frayed edges hung in weird locations, and holes had been chewed through his chest piece.
“Or we could use real torches.” Awesome pointed ahead. “Anyone got a match?”
“Sure,” I said while heading toward the torch.
Xin and I essentially held each other up across the room. SheHulk squinted against the darkness. Part of her shield glowed with an extremely soft light that hadn’t been present last time we went cave-crawling together.
“Don’t bother. Nothing stays dry out here.” Dwight brushed by and grabbed the torch out of my hands, then shook it. “That’s why we invented the gloves.”
TockDoc grumbled, “You mean, why I invented them.”
“You couldn’t have invented them without us,” the formerly armored man protested. His eyes looked even more bugged out than TockDoc’s in the fading light.
“You couldn’t have survived out here without me pulling everyone together.”
“Dwight,” Xin called to the annoying man.
Confusion wrinkled his brow. “What?”
“I’ve killed seventeen people today,” my wife said with a frighteningly flat tone. “Don’t make it eighteen.”
The look of him losing all color made me want to clap. Instead, I squeezed Xin’s hand briefly. His sputtering response was distraction enough to recover the unlit torch. SheHulk outright laughed while TinkerHell looked mildly embarrassed at her friend’s behavior.
“I love this bitch,” SheHulk said while bobbing her head. She tried to imitate my wife’s lighter tone of voice. “‘Don’t make it eighteen.’”
Xin said nothing but clung onto my free arm. I checked her health bar again for signs of damage, then I reviewed her clothing for holes. It didn’t look like any [World Eater]s had successfully damaged her digital body.
“Hold on.” I lifted the unlit torch toward my mouth, then carefully used [Breath of Flame]. Heat crawled up my neck then splattered onto the torch’s top.
Bright light flooded the room. A sea of shrinking eyes greeted me. Notices went off about [Wilderness Survival] skills and many others, increasing the torchlight’s radius. After they got over the shock of intense illumination, we all started looking around.
“God. I thought I saw you do that while we were fighting. It makes your neck look so fucking gross,” SheHulk said while glancing over her shoulder. Her body shuddered as her armor scraped against itself.
I knew Xin was tired because she stirred a little but didn’t get upset. Honestly, I agreed with Elane. Spitting up a ball of fire, then walking around with it warming my hand felt disturbingly like holding phlegm.
At least this time it had gone directly onto the torch.
Ahead was a doorway that reminded me of the one above, just before the [Sage’s Guardian #4]. I glanced at the others and shrugged.
Dwight ran toward it first. His form disappeared around the corner, and the clattering of armor could be heard as he jumped downward.
We waited for the sound of monsters but only heard, “Goddammit!”
A ringing noise hung in the air, followed by a crack and a shuddering wall as someone went flying. Exposed wiring swung in the torchlight as the vibrations settled. Dwight’s groans could be heard after each large crash. The same exchange of sounds repeated three times.
“I’ll…
wait out here,” TockDoc said abruptly. “I’m not good with fighting.”
Awesome nodded to the townsman, then motioned Elane ahead with two fingers. We stepped forward with the short Hispanic woman leading us. She held up the mace and prepared to smash any obstacle that might present itself.
I tried to ready [Morrigu’s Gift], but my grip felt weak. Fighting Nam Redrum twice had taken a lot of out me. Thinking about our hectic fight made a shudder pass through me.
Our doorway opened into another wide dome area. No monsters stood below. Instead, rounded stairs led up to a brightly lit throne. The ornate chair was made of thick black wiring and looked terribly uncomfortable.
A man stood in the brightened air. All around his feet were hats of every size and shape. Dwight’s stumbling form kicked a mess of headpieces around just before the other man flicked a coin in Dwight’s direction. The idiot’s body went flying backward into a wall once more.
We stood on the floor above, looking at the scene with equally stupefied expressions. Every time Dwight drew closer, the man amid a sea of hats flipped another rapidly spinning coin. Each casually spiraling piece of metal sent the player backward.
Everyone else slowly descended the ladder, but I held Xin and [Blink]ed closer. The man flipping coins was an old friend of mine. Or close enough for me to feel secure in his presence.
“Damn. This hat doesn’t fit either,” the man within a pile of hats said.
There were at least fifteen stacked atop his head like a leaning tower. A golden band sat in one of his hands and glittered in the torchlight.
“Who the fuck is that?” SheHulk demanded as she stomped toward the throne. I waved a hand to stop her from approaching him. “Is that a boss? Is that the Sage? Why can’t I identify it?”
“Calm down, girl,” TinkerHell said.
“That’s because he’s a Voice,” I said while staring at the man.
Ray looked tired and ragged. The formerly gritty half-shaven look had devolved into uneven patches. Both of his eyes hung with bags. His state looked worse the longer I stared at him.
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