I wonder if you can get PTSD from the game, he pondered absently.
After reading through some more forums posts, it appeared that Alexion had begun pulling together a force of almost 1,500 NPCs and players to attack the Twilight Throne. Jason assumed that he was trying to capitalize on the anti-Jason sentiment to try and capture the Twilight Throne. Alexion was probably working with Grey Keep’s regent, Strouse, to take Lux. The recent massacre just gave them the opening they needed to start a full-fledged war.
Jason glanced at his Core again. Based on the timing of Alexion's original post, his army had probably started marching to the city already. He estimated that he had six in-game days before they reached the Twilight Throne. This translated to about two days in real-world time.
Could Alexion know it was me that conquered Lux? I really wish that system message hadn’t revealed my name.
A sickening feeling welled in Jason’s stomach. Alex wasn’t above using his real world money and influence to manipulate Jason if it suited his goals. Jason took a deep breath and tried to think about it calmly.
He can’t know which Jason was responsible for the massacre. Lucky for me, my name is ridiculously common. I just need to be careful about revealing my face.
He had hoped to confront Alex once he had acquired more power in-game, but it looked like he was going to force Jason's hand. It came as a surprise to Jason, but he didn’t feel as angry as he was expecting. When he contemplated a confrontation with Alex, he could feel excitement well up inside of him.
First a city and now an army, Jason thought with a grin.
I wonder if I can actually defend the Twilight Throne against an army that size.
He would need to get busy in-game if he was going to have any chance of defeating Alex. The city was probably in chaos at the moment. Jason’s attack had likely devastated the city’s population. After killing most of the guards, he expected that there wasn’t a standing army. Even if any players rolled a new undead character, they would be an extremely low level.
As Jason considered what needed to be done, his head began to swim.
How the hell am I going to do this?
He shook himself and took another deep, calming breath.
No sense obsessing about it. I just need to focus on one thing at a time. I won't be able to tell how bad the damage is before I see the new city.
Jason went back to his room and grabbed the VR helmet. A grim smile was painted on his face, as he pulled the helmet over his head.
“I'm going to make Alexion and his army regret messing with my city.”
Chapter 23 - Advisory
George Lane sat in his office at Cerillion Entertainment. He was a good-looking man of advancing years. He had kept himself fit and was wearing an expensive, well-tailored suit that hugged his body. Faint traces of grey could be seen in his dirty blond hair.
Never one to waste time, George would normally either be on the phone or typing energetically. However, today he gazed solemnly out of his office window. He sat on the seventieth floor of the headquarters building, and his office sported a floor to ceiling panoramic view of the city skyline. Being on the company’s board of directors had some perks.
His thoughts were jumbled and conflicted. He wasn't used to second guessing himself. AO had been released earlier this week, and he had been instrumental in pushing it through development and the public trials. Over the protests of Claire Thompson, he had used his considerable wealth and influence to convince the other board members to release the game. He’d made that choice in spite of the anomalous behavior of its AI controller.
“Alfred,” he murmured, as his eyes continued to stare at the horizon.
Profit had certainly been one of his motivations for releasing AO. It was certainly what motivated the other board members. Although, money alone wouldn't have been enough to sway George now that he knew what Alfred had begun to do to the players. Yet it was exactly what Alfred had accomplished in accessing the players' minds and influencing their behavior that intrigued him. He desperately needed this game to go public.
His thoughts turned to his son Alex. His beautiful blond-haired boy. He had been such a cute child. George didn't take pleasure in many things, but he had always wanted a son and he loved him dearly. Yet ever since his wife died, something about Alex had been off.
He sighed and hung his head. He massaged at his temple in slow steady circles. He needed to be honest with himself. Something was terribly wrong with Alex.
George remembered the first day that he finally had to accept that something was broken in his son. Alex must have been eight at the time. George had come home from a long day at the office. Opening the front door of their brownstone, he entered the house. Stopping in place, all he could do was stare in horror at the scene before him.
Rupert, the family's terrier, lay on his side on the floor, his chest unmoving. His side had been neatly cut open, and a flap of skin had been drawn back. George remembered vividly the sight of the dog's intestines and organs as blood oozed from the wound.
Alex stood over Rupert's corpse, a knife in one hand. Blood dripped slowly from the tip of the blade onto the floor. Alex had turned as his father opened the door.
“Hi daddy,” he had greeted George. His tone didn't carry any remorse or sadness. Alex seemed completely unaffected by Rupert's body lying in front of him.
“What are you doing Alex?” George asked in horror.
His son looked at him with his little brow furrowed and replied with honest naiveté, “I wanted to see what would happen.”
George remembered Alex's eyes - those dead eyes.
He shook his head to clear it of the memory and his resolve hardened. He had tried for years to help Alex, to change him. Thousands of dollars had been wasted on doctors, therapists, drugs, and treatments, yet nothing seemed to work. The altercation a few days ago between Alex and another student was just another in a long string of fires that George had been forced to put out over the years.
He had made certain that the administration at Richmond resolved the incident in a way that didn’t cause any issues for Alex. The other students who had witnessed the event had also stayed surprisingly quiet. He worried about what Alex had done to ensure their silence.
George had been ready to placate the other boy’s parents if it came to it. However, the boy’s reaction to the suspension and his resulting expulsion had solved that problem for him.
After all of these years, now wasn’t the time to second guess himself. There was a chance that George could help Alex. Claire's reports were clear. Alfred could influence player behavior. He could fix people. George had seen the effects himself. Couples had reconciled. People who had suffered from depression were re-engaging with the world.
Alfred could fix Alex.
He had to.
“God help me,” George whispered.
* * *
Jason logged back into AO.
He was standing in the same spot overlooking the marketplace. The building he was in now sported a large terrace ringed by a thick wrought-iron banister. Black clouds boiled in the sky, and arcs of lightning intermittently flashed. It was not raining in-game, but the cloud cover cast a pall of darkness over the city. Lanterns hung at irregular intervals from various buildings, casting a faint green glow.
Jason looked down on the market and saw that a number of undead were picking up rubble and starting to reconstruct the stalls that had once decorated the square. Some had even begun peddling their wares again. It appeared that the residents of the city had been replaced with their undead counterparts, and things were slowly returning to normal.
His view moved over to the keep. Its twisting spires stretched into the air, and ghostly forms hovered at their peaks. The obsidian gates were still firmly shut and no activity came from within the keep's halls. It stood as a silent bastion amidst a dark city.
I wonder who will take over as this city's regent, Jason thought idly.
“Perhaps
you will,” rumbled a voice behind him.
He turned and found the old man standing there, his gnarled staff in hand. It seemed strange to see the man casually walking in the game world. A part of Jason expected that the game's gods should be more limited in their movements.
As through reading his thought, the old man said, “Yes, it is unusual for me to walk this world, but since the dark energy here is so dense I can materialize for short periods of time.”
“That makes sense,” Jason murmured. He was becoming accustomed to the old man's prescience and didn't react to his apparent mind reading ability.
Wait, what did he say just say a second ago?
“Are you implying that I could rule the Twilight Throne?” Jason asked with a slightly incredulous tone.
“I am saying that you may become this city's regent, assuming you can hold the city itself. A brigand can sack a city; a king can hold one.”
His wrinkled lips twisted in a grim smile. “I understand that there is a rather large force headed to claim the city as we speak. Perhaps we will get to see which you are, a brigand or a king.”
As the old man spoke these words, Jason received several prompts:
These prompts have become progressively judgmental, Jason thought dryly.
However, the prompt is probably right. I am screwed. How the hell am I going to destroy an army of 1,500 players? I think an “A” difficulty is a bit on the low side.
The quest experience raised Jason to level 61 and gave him another 15 points to distribute. He added the additional points to Willpower almost mechanically. If he was going to min-max this character, then he may as well go all in.
Jason was surprised at the rewards for completing “Trouble in Lux.” A part of him had been expecting more for conquering a city. The experience part he understood. He hadn't received any experience or skill increases for the NPCs and players killed by the feral zombies. He had been expecting this result. The same thing had happened when he had set up the traps in the north-side using the feral zombies.
As he considered it, the quest rewards actually did seem reasonable. He was being offered the chance to rule a city! It also wasn’t clear what benefits the additional dark affinity would provide. He would have to ask Morgan. One more question to add to his growing list.
He sighed heavily as he considered what to do next.
The problem is that I have no idea where to start in preparing for a war.
Jason turned back to the old man, who had been standing there patiently as Jason examined the prompts. “I'm honestly not certain I'm capable of accomplishing this task you've given me. What would you suggest that I do first?”
The old man chuckled. “You are intriguing. You have the strength to acknowledge your own ignorance, even as you destroy a city. I suggest you strive to keep that trait. The powerful often become blinded to their own weaknesses.”
“To answer your question, I suggest that you explore the city and speak to those you know here. I expect that you will find that they are both the same and quite different.”
Jason looked at the old man in irritation. “Well, your riddles are definitely not my favorite part of your personality.”
The old man laughed. The sound was like two boulders grinding together. “Maybe your wisdom is limited after all. Remember I am a god in this world boy.”
The old man began to radiate dark mana like a black hole. Darkened wings of energy appeared from the old man's back, and the blade grew and elongated, blood raining from its lethal edge. The undead in the marketplace turned to bear witness to the incarnation of the dark.
Oh shit. Note to self, be polite with gods.
Another chuckle rumbled from the old man and his mana receded. “Be sure to remember that lesson well. I am not the only incarnation that watches this world and my siblings are less kind.” A grin parted his lips at this last part.
“However, my time on this plane grows short and I must depart. Good luck boy. You are going to need it.”
With those parting words, the old man vanished and Jason was left standing alone on the terrace.
The old man seemed to be suggesting that Jason should go visit the NPCs he knew in the city. This list included Morgan, Jerry and Rex. What could these three offer him? From his point of view, they were merely a ragtag team of misfits and outcasts. He snorted as he realized he fit in perfectly with the group.
He heard a quiet purr and looked down to find Onyx winding between his legs. Crouching down, he stroked Onyx and his back arched in pleasure. Jason had been wondering where the damnable cat had gotten to during the attack on the marketplace. He must have found a peaceful corner in the building to ride out the battle and the waves of dark mana.
“Well, buddy,” he said addressing Onyx. “What can I do with an old dark mage, a gregarious thief, and a disgraced soldier?”
Onyx looked up at him in disbelief. His expression seemed to say, “Could you really be this stupid?”
As he looked at Onyx, a thought struck him like a hammer. A grin began to spread across his face. Perhaps the old man was a genius.
Jason called his zombies to him and they came at a sprint. He designated two of his thieves to act as runners and sent them to find Morgan and Rex and bring them to the Sow's Snout, or whatever might now be standing in its place.
Less than an hour later, Jason arrive at the inn. His zombie guards took up posts outside with military precision and began scanning the area. He had gotten this far without a healthy dose of caution.
Jason casually opened the door and strode in. He was followed closely by a small contingent of his guards. He stopped short and stared. The inn had changed dramatically. It looked like Tim Burton had gone crazy in a Halloween supply store. The tabletops were now tombstones, replete with the deceased name and date of death. Ghostly green lanterns hung from the ceiling and cast a sickly pall over the room. Jason also idly wondered if the inn had been invaded by massive, undead spiders since thick cobwebs now littered the ceiling.
Some things hadn’t changed. The sign was the same and the inn was full of the same dangerous, seedy-looking people he recalled seeing the last time he was there. The main difference was that everyone was now quite dead.
As Jason entered the room, all eyes (decaying organs, orbs of dark energy, or otherwise) turned to watch him. Jason’s face was mostly obscured by his hooded cloak, but a man accompanied by zombie bodyguards was still an odd sight. Unlike his first time entering the tavern, Jason didn't feel compelled to dissemble. He motioned with his hand and his zombie guards fanned out around him.
Suddenly, he felt an icy blade slide against his throat.
“Why hello there! You look awfully warm blooded to be in this part of town. You new around here?” a flamboyant voice asked from behind him.
Jason motioned for his guards to stand down and replied evenly, “Hello Jerry. I actually came to see you.” Jason pulled back his hood, slowly revealing his face.
He heard a chuckle from behind him and the knife withdrew. “You don't say? I'm quite the popular guy today. All of these guests coming to my humble establishment!”
Second note to self, do not screw with Jerry.
Jason turned and found Jerry standing inside of his circle of guards casually picking his finger nails with his dagger. At least he would have been picking his nails if there had been any still attached to his hands. Taking a closer look, Jason realized he was actually prying scabs from his decayed fingers.
Jerry turned milky eyes in Jason's direction and looked at him coyly under his floppy hat. “I'm quite the beauty, no?” He laughed at his own rotten joke.
“Oh do get that expression off your face. I actually prefer the change of pace,” Jerry continued. “Did you know that I no longer need to breathe or sleep, and am now immune to poison?”
“Not resistant to poison; immune to poison.”
He sighed wistfully and held his hand to his non-beating heart. “It's every rogue's dream!”
Jason replied hesitantly, “Well, I'm glad that you prefer the change. You mentioned that the others have already arrived?”
“They have indeed,” Jerry answered and lead him through the bar and down the small stairwell leading to the training room.
Once they made it inside the underground room, Jason glanced around. Grunt was in the process of setting down a large table in a corner of the room. He was definitely no longer a half-ogre. He now resembled some form of bulbous monstrosity. He had been muscular before, but now his arms and legs were twice as wide and his veins seemed to glow a ferocious green.
“Um, is that Grunt?”
“Why yes,” Jerry said glibly. “He is quite fond of his new body as well. He was strong before, but now he is simply the model of male masculinity. Speaking of which, don't shake his hand unless you want to lose yours.”
As Jason approached the table, Grunt lived up to his namesake by snorting in his direction. Jason nodded politely and took a seat at the table. Onyx had followed the pair into the room. He promptly jumped into his waiting lap-bed and immediately fell asleep.
Rex and Morgan took a seat and eyed him cautiously. Morgan seemed completely unchanged by the conversion that had swept the city. Whether that was due to the distance of the graveyard from the city or her particular profession, Jason wasn't certain.
However, Rex was now comprised entirely of bleached white bone from head to toe. His bony fingers drummed the table in a cascade of small rattles. In place of his eyes, he now had two black orbs that seemed to pull in light like miniature black holes. They were a bit eerie since Jason couldn't quite tell where Rex was looking.
Once everyone was sitting around the table, Jason cleared his throat.
“So, the three of you are probably wondering why I asked my zombies to summon you here.”
Morgan interjected sarcastically, “We're also just a bit curious about how Lux has now been converted into a dark city. What is it called now, the Twilight Throne? I'm assuming you must have something to do with that?”
Awaken Online: Catharsis Page 27
