Continue Online The Complete Series

by Stephan Morse

  Empty space hung overhead. It felt like being in Advance Online again, as if this place existed between game worlds. I wanted to look up but couldn’t see more than a hint of reflected starlight. The planet in those puddles looked so much like Earth that I thought we might be on the moon.

  “Did it look like this from space?” I asked my wife.

  “In parts, except for the breathing part and wearing these clothes,” Xin responded.

  “Hey!” the teen shouted. He sounded upset, but I didn’t feel like looking at him.

  “What?”

  “If you two would pay attention to anyone else, then you might realize we’re here!” Requiem looked angry.

  “Maybe you don’t need that demon’s help after all,” Wraith said dryly. After a pause, he started laughing again. His wide eyes could be seen through a mirror-like puddle.

  Requiem started marking out crosses on the sand for us to stand on. They were all located around a puddle with a planet reflected in its center. This version of [Arcadia] looked like every other one we had traveled by. How the teen knew which one to go for was beyond me. Maybe trial and error, or a system notice we weren’t receiving.

  “Everyone get ready. The same way we got in. Breathe in, then look up slowly,” he said.

  Requiem vanished, followed by Wraith and Xin.

  I looked at the reflection and worried about the holes piercing [Arcadia]. They were digital representations of the damage being done by [World Eater]s and the ongoing deletion process that would eventually claim Mother’s life. It was like knowing a friend was dying rapidly of aggressive cancer.

  My head tilted back. Then the world below was above me and below me. They flipped back and forth while I felt dizzy and pressure weighed upon my chest. My hands shot up, and I felt weightless as one place switched with the other.

  Xin’s lap felt comfortable. I didn’t know when she’d gotten her knees under my head, or how long I had been lying there. We sat on the edge of an ocean. Waves could be heard, along with the cries of birds overhead. Dawn colored part of the sky, what little was visible through my wife’s draping hair.

  “Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

  I shook my head and touched her face. “I saw the world. It looks bad.”

  “It is. But we’re going to figure out this next spot. I’m confident that whatever this Yates person left behind will make everything better,” she sounded firm.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  She tried to smile, but it faltered. Then my wife closed her eyes and nodded slowly. Her uncertainty echoed my own. The pair of us were clearly dancing around the same future outlook.

  Heavy footsteps thudded by, jarring my mind out of the moment. Xin’s lap was comfortable, and any expression on the woman’s face beat a day without her at all. I sat up and saw an ocean that felt very different from the one at [Haven Valley].

  The black-haired teen was yelling from way farther down the shoreline. There were a few monsters nearby, generated by the game, but Wraith looked to be killing them quickly. Xin’s white skeleton monster had been summoned as well and was competing with the demon.

  We stood up, then walked silently toward our party members.

  “Good, the boat’s still here.” Requiem stood near a chest-high mound and started pulling back dead branches. Layers of items covered the object, disguising the boat.

  “This is yours?” Xin asked.

  The teen nodded while pulling off a final cloth cover. There was a rather solid-looking vehicle carved out of wood. Between the boards, black paste had been applied to seal potential leaks. The boat was big enough for two people tops. Assuming Wraith could fly, Requiem and I would need to go across together.

  “I’m going to autopilot and take care a few things before we get too far,” Requiem said. “We’ll need to put in a few hours on the boat, then we’ll be ashore.”

  I looked at Xin. “Can you recall to town and get any supplies you think we’ll need from the auction house?”

  “And my money,” Requiem said. Even his apparent drooling over Xin couldn’t overcome his need for money. It was another place where our priorities differed.

  “And half of his money. Twenty thousand. Then I’ll summon you back once we get ashore.”

  “Okay,” she said and nodded.

  She pulled out a scroll, then [Recall]ed back to [Haven Valley]. Part of me hoped she would run to the beam of light and vanish to safety.

  Requiem logged out, leaving behind a serious-looking autopilot. The pale version of Requiem inspected the docked boat for cracks. Items came out of his inventory, and a fresh layer of goop was applied. It might have come from a stockpile of crafted supplies, or he’d expected to need it all along.

  I followed suit and went about cleaning myself up. A quick nap, shower, and food gave me the energy needed to function. I felt as though we were entering a home stretch. At the very least, I wanted the next day in game to pass without interruption from the real world.

  An hour later, I logged back into the Atrium and saw Dusk sulking on a broken couch. His body looked absolutely huge compared to the version I first met. He had been the size of a very small cat, but now he looked equivalent to a medium-sized dog.

  “The world’s ending. Are you going to come, or sit and pout all day?” I asked.

  Dusk lifted his head and puffed a fireball at me. I dodged quickly, unsure if the fire would actually hurt me inside the Atrium. The [Messenger’s Pet] had proven more than once not to care about system programming. He could apparently alter portions of the ARC to suit himself.

  I stood in a new spot, watching for further aggression while contemplating this standoff. Dusk and I had been together everywhere, and four reallife days without him felt downright weird.

  Finally, I decided on a method that would satisfy me, annoy him, and probably still be okay. It would involve ruining the anniversary present I had prepared to buy him. We had only been together in real-world time for around half a year. With the ARC programs crashing, maybe there would never be a better time.

  “ARC!” I told the machine above.

  “Awaiting input,” it responded.

  “Buy the one-year package.” My hand went up before the machine could ask for confirmation. “Yes, buy it.”

  Dusk stared at me with his head tilted. A dozen cupcakes appeared, centered around the dragon. They had wings. This program was actually customized. I’d bought a chasing game for virtual cats where creatures flew around, but instead of birds or other crunchables, I’d asked the designer for cupcakes.

  The [Messenger’s Pet] went absolutely crazy when they all took off in separate directions. His tail went in one direction while claws scrambled in the other. My couch was knocked over as the large creature spread his wings. One of the cupcakes got knocked around while others darted by his nose at high speeds.

  I stood there laughing. One of the cupcakes started chasing me, which only increased the chaos. At some point, Dusk ended up with a pile of five or six large crushed cupcakes. Bits of pink frosting layered upon his wings and everything else. For my part, I was huffing from exertion. Even though the Atrium version of me should have been tougher, the action got my reallife heartrate up.

  “There.” I gestured to the defeated mess of baked goods. “When you have the urge to chase something, can you come here and do it instead?”

  Dusk cocked his head to one side and lowered his ears in my direction.

  “No, of course I’m not still mad. I’m sorry I grabbed you,” I responded. “We were in the middle of trying to help everyone and didn’t have time for playing with the lesser monsters.”

  The [Messenger’s Pet] whined a little, then gave a noise that sounded like a bird and cat mixed together. His increased size turned the sound into a choppy deep mix.

  “Do you want to keep going? There’s…” I took a breath as Dusk walked over. “There’s not much time left, I think.”

  He sat on thick hind legs and gazed at m
e. I sat on my rear, which put us at nearly the same height. One eyebrow went up as I tried to figure out what was going through Dusk’s mind without system messages.

  Every minute out here was four not in the game world. After my nap, we had to be getting close to the island. It had been visible from the shoreline. I leaned back and looked at the dark doorway to Continue Online.

  A long tongue licked my face. I fell over and quickly looked at Dusk. My hand lifted to wipe away the fresh mess. Cupcake slobber created a trail of gross.

  “All right. Fine.” I looked at his face. The small beast had been with me since day one of this adventure. Leaving him behind didn’t feel right. “Birthday present respawn! Attack pattern dive bomb!”

  A dozen fresh cupcakes spawned into existence. This time, they didn’t run away or scatter but went straight for Dusk’s face. It was the first time I had ever see him run from a dessert.

  I laughed abruptly and ran through the doorway to Continue Online. The sound of thick nails scrambling against my Atrium floor quickly trailed behind.

  My body slid into the Hermes avatar with only a brief bit of disorientation. The trail of dragon slobber on my face faded. Cupcake bits also vanished. Those sensations were replaced by a salty smell and ocean breeze.

  I looked around. We had apparently made it to the island’s shore. All four of us stood on a dock. The material looked solid and well-built. This spot was at least twenty feet wide and had stairs made of thick bricks going down either side for boats. I looked off the edge and saw our tiny wooden vessel, sitting there indifferently.

  “Are we all here?” Requiem asked.

  I looked at Xin and wondered when my autopilot had summoned her. The idea bothered me a bit, that it would perform actions within my character.

  “Good. First, my money.” He put out a hand.

  Xin looked at me, and I shrugged. She handed over a huge bag that clinked with coins. Requiem lifted it, testing the weight. He nodded and put it into a backpack then poked fingers at air to check the actual figures.

  “All right,” he said.

  “What can you tell us about this place?” My wife voiced the question for all of us.

  “Once we step off the docks onto the actual sand, things will get weird.” Requiem pointed to the concrete ending. “We’ll be teleported inside somewhere and need to make our way to the maze’s center. At least, I think that’s what we need to do.”

  “Do you know which way to go?”

  Requiem shook his head. His eyebrows lowered and lips tightened.

  “What do you know?” I asked.

  For once, he answered. “No one has made it even halfway. The last time I tried, it took six days for my supplies to run out. After that, my character starved to death and I had to release back to my bind point.”

  Wraith chuckled.

  “Anything else?” Xin asked.

  “Nothing I’m sure enough of. We’ll take it one step at a time inside,” Requiem said.

  My wife nodded, and we walked down the pier’s length. The forest in front of us looked plain. A steep hill loomed overhead, but there were no signs of wildlife.

  “You ready, babe?” I asked.

  “For adventure? Always.” She smiled at me.

  Requiem looked disgusted and stepped off first. Wraith chuckled as always, then moved next. Xin and I stepped onto the sand, hand in hand.

  We made it five feet before being hit by the teleportation. There was a sense of energy warming my belly, then digging in with a giant hook. It yanked me sideways, and the vision of Xin’s face and the island shore bled into a new location. I lost focus as she dripped away.

  The motion felt unkind compared to the moon’s gentle, dizzying swap. Using [Blink] repeatedly for months hadn’t prepared me for this. This reminded me of the [Red Imp] being summoned. Disorienting and a sense of immeasurable distance.

  “Where are we?” I asked as vision cleared.

  I rolled onto my side and checked all fingers and toes for a change of body dimensions. Eyesight locked on my hands until it became clear that these were not small red chubby fingers. This was not a demon’s body. Everything had remained Hermes.

  The warmth from Xin’s hand dimmed. I reached out as the fog cleared to try to find her. As seconds passed, it became apparent that no one was around me.

  Not only had we been teleported inside, but I was alone. That annoyed me. I knelt, then started scribbling out Dusk’s summoning portal. A moment later, I chanted the key phrase, while thinking about how many cupcakes Dusk had already been given, and watched the golden light flare up.

  The illumination faded, and the form of a hesitant and confused Dusk could be seen. He looked at me, then around at our location, and hissed. His body started vanishing away.

  “Find Xin!” I shouted at the fading image. “Keep her safe!”

  His barely visible nod was the last thing to fade.

  I kicked the ground in annoyance. Whatever mechanics kept this island going included isolation from our party. Was it designed to drain our resources? Maybe starve out the weaker ones who weren’t carrying food?

  Hecate: Are you okay?

  Hermes: Yeah. Lost. Can’t even see Dusk, and I just tried to summon him.

  Hecate: We’re split up, I guess. Maybe a mechanic of the island? This is weird. Half my—interface, I guess, is missing.

  I looked at my own screens and poked around for options. Sure enough, some items were grayed out or completely hidden. I couldn’t see a view counter to tell me how many people were watching me. There were no notices about how far along my skills were.

  This place was even weirder than the missing interface boxes. The walls around me looked solid until I stepped forward. Then they moved as if there were a dancing picture behind them that only existed while I was in motion. It reminded me of an optical illusion from grade school, where they used to test us with weird problems.

  Each step forward took more effort than expected. There was an after-echo to each movement, like I wasn’t simply moving one foot, but three or four. Every step gave me a headache. By the fourth step, I felt as if the real world had grown distant as my mind slowly detached from itself.

  My head shook rapidly, and I tried to focus. There was a box in front of me that needed to be paid attention. The chat from my wife served as a lifeline.

  Hecate: We can talk if you want to pass time while we explore?

  Hermes: I’d like that.

  Hecate: Okay, so a slightly different question than the earlier one; if you only had a day left to live, what would you do?

  Hermes: If I only had one day left to live, then I would go on a grand adventure with my wife. One that doesn’t involve splitting us up. What would you do?

  Hecate: Beg god for another day. There are too many things to do!

  Hermes: Well, someone heard your plea. We’ve had a lot of extra time together, and I’m thankful for every minute.

  Hecate: What about after? Have you thought about what happens to us next?

  I shouldn’t have typed that at all. The sentence had slipped out before any self-control could be exerted. I could blame the high processing speed of this virtual reality for poor judgment.

  The text hovered in front of me as I realized exactly what we were talking about. Holding myself in one piece became impossible. Maybe it was for the best that our party was split up as part of this dungeon. Grieving alone felt survivable.

  We had both had more days than we deserved. Her coming back from the dead, and me surviving my own attempts at rushing toward an end. We had only been parted for a few minutes, yet I missed all three versions of my wife. The one who died on a train. Her digital continuation that had married me. Then I felt upset for the woman she would be on the other side of this event.

  Session One Hundred — When We Shadows

  I struggled to get myself together. First, I took a mental inventory. [Mechanical Hades Crown] had enough souls for a few [Empowerment]s. My boots were still tied
and served as a buffer between a slick-looking floor and me. Twisting my feet either way failed to get a response.

  The ARC interface was in operation, but it kept flickering out. Everything else about the game world was fading slowly. Both weapons refused to shift into new shapes. I felt almost plain.

  “ARC,” I shouted.

  “Awaiting input,” its voice dragged as if the battery were dying.

  My face went through a series of motions as I tried to figure out if that was good or bad. It responded, which meant something. ARC devices all over were in need of constant repair as the system errors became more obvious. Maybe mine had finally conked out. Could I be trapped in here?

  The hallway turned darker with each step forward. An old-fashioned light bulb swung above my head and powered on at random intervals. Every time the light came on, it clicked. The thin metal chain with a wire woven through only served to make the setting worse. I looked for my message box to Xin and watched in growing panic as the box vanished every time the ceiling light went out.

  “Awesome,” I muttered dryly.

  My heartbeat thumped as the clicking kept me company. This was a video game. This was only a video game.

  I took another few steps toward a second light in the distance. A table sat at the end of a narrowing hallway, and atop the ratty surface was a torn lampshade with dull yellow ambiance. Both Morrigu weapons refused to shift shape, leaving me with two small sticks with hooks on the end.

  It didn’t matter. I had played this game long enough to use any weapon at hand, especially since the rules for this island were inconsistent with everything else. This disconnect from the normal motions of a virtual world felt familiar.

  Stepping forward was easier, but the air became heavy. Each breath felt like taking in a heavy fog laced with musk. The sound of air passing out of my lungs became amplified.

  I continued forward while trying to remember my wife’s words. Move only forward. Be like Orpheus and don’t dare look back. The walls grew closer together while the ceiling distorted out of place. The light I had been wandering toward flickered in time with the first one. They both pulsed and clicked.