by K. T. Hanna
“Can’t we just charge at them and slice them up?” Beastial asked, impatience showing in his stance. Shir-Khan growled in his throat like he was agreeing with his master.
“Not the best idea unless you want it to begin to devour your character.” Havoc coughed out the words as if he was still trying to get rid of the distaste his attempt to control them had given him.
Beastial crossed his arms, glaring at the necromancer. “Fine, then. I don’t see you coming up with a plan.”
Havoc began to open his mouth, and from the expression on his face, it wasn’t going to be a nice tirade. But Sinister got there first, stepping between them.
“Guys. Vikings. Dark elves and cats. I’d like to direct your attention to my fantastic idea.” She swept her arms in a grand gesture, grinning evilly. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”
She began to cast a Blood Bomb. She wove it in her hands and pulled blood from their opponents as they began to move faster, even though their gaits resembled slugs as they left mucus in their wake.
Murmur watched as they began to gravitate toward the blood mage, and a sudden sense of foreboding took a hold of her. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that what Sinister was doing would feed them.
“Wait. Sin—” was all she got out before the healer released her spell, and she knew, from the look on her friend’s face that she also understood what she’d just done.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered and looked at Murmur in shock. “Sorry.”
The Blood Bomb exploded over the sludge monsters, who still didn’t have a name, and they rose up on all dripping fours. But that wasn’t quite right. As they absorbed the blood, they grew larger, and somehow even more terrifying. Murmur could hear the sinew stretch as sloppy bits of gristle and congealed body remnants molded themselves into a larger version of the nightmare.
Their muzzles raised into the air, greedily gulping down all of the blood and destruction that rained around them. It fueled their bodies and their life.
Like they’d absorbed their own blood and the damage that Sinister had caused had only made them stronger.
The one closest to the group opened its maw and screamed, a blood curdling sound that echoed off the walls. Not only did it do that, it seemed to alert every single patch of what they’d thought was bodily waste around them. Each of them came together like someone had lit a fire under them, forming into a phalanx of creatures that defied death and the undead.
“Shit is about right,” Murmur muttered as the monsters began to advance. She cast out a Mez, only to want to scream in frustration at the words that flickered across her vision.
Living Entrails are immune to Mesmerization spells. This spell has no effect.
“Damn it.” Murmur cast the first in her stun line, hoping against hope that the same exception didn’t apply. It stopped them. Well, most of them. She did get two flashes of resisted to the left of her vision. “AoE them down. Don’t let them touch me.”
The first was necessary to say, the second not so much. While they no longer had to be scared of her dying, they couldn’t really let the chain-stunning enchanter die before most of these entrails had been dealt with. And if they touched her, the odds were that she was doomed. They didn’t want it to turn into swarm central.
Flux. Shift. Concussive Blast. It was like being in a time loop where all that mattered was casting those same three spells over and over. She had the rhythm down like a tango, sharp and dramatic. She had never been so glad to have Veto in her life. The magic resistance lowerer was saving their butts. Only a couple would resist each time she stunned, and they’d get caught in both Rashlyn and Devlish’s AoE taunts. Murmur had never been so grateful for leveling before in her life.
There was just enough time between Shift and Concussive Blast to renew Veto every second round. The timing in her mind was like a dance beat that she needed to keep herself tuned to.
When entrails died, the stench and left behind remnants were worse than she’d expected. The smell was deadlier than the monsters. Murmur constantly had to stop herself from gagging.
Meanwhile, Leeroy cleaved the entrails with a gleeful cackle. Murmur was going to have to talk to Havoc about his pet at some stage. She didn’t understand how it functioned almost by itself.
Rashlyn’s round AoE taunts were godsends because every resist meant Murmur might get overwhelmed and be unable to continue otherwise. At this rate they didn’t even have a chance at killing the monk.
Ranger arrow volleys, Mellow’s potion bombs, Beastial’s cat, and Dansyn’s reinforcements. They all wove a pretty melody of a fight, crescendoing, crashing, and killing. Meanwhile, in the back out of the way of all of the monsters, their healers kept up the fight.
Although Murmur did notice Sinister wasn’t quick to cast anymore Blood Bombs. She hoped her friend didn’t blame herself. How would she have known that her Blood Bomb was actually going to feed the damned creatures.
Squelching became the undertone for the whole fight, and as they mowed through more of them, the filth on the floor got deeper. Blood and bones, entrails and viscera, sinew and muscles, not all of them human. Hair matted the concoction together, and Murmur kept her eyes closed as she activated her stuns, trying not to look at the disgusting carpet they’d made.
“Mur?” Sinister’s words were soft, and it was then that Murmur noticed there wasn’t any other sort of noise.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes, focusing directly on Sinister’s voice so she wouldn’t have to see the floor.
“Oh. We’re done?” Murmur was relieved, but she still couldn’t figure out a way to breathe in without the stench reaching her brain too. She was tired, yet pumped up on this weirdly grossed out adrenaline.
You have withstood the Trial of Strength. The Richnai gnomes thank you and wish you luck on your next trial.
Murmur glanced around at her friends. None of them were looking down, but all of them appeared to be relieved that this particular fight was over.
“What would someone have done if they qualified for this trial and didn’t have an enchanter who was over level thirty-five?” Havoc spoke the words that kept running through Murmur’s mind.
“I have no idea.” She was glad that she wasn’t the only one who found that odd. What if a group came in here and qualified for the trial without having the stuns, or hell—without an enchanter at all. Not many people seemed to be playing them at higher levels yet.
“That’s a pretty definitive advantage to have. I mean, we’re lucky that we have one, but what if you didn’t? Wouldn’t you be pissed off?” Havoc folded his arms, and Leeroy mimicked him.
It would have been comical if Murmur wasn’t trying to figure out how someone would manage that last fight without an enchanter.
“Well, let’s just be thankful we have an enchanter.” Devlish stepped forward, and she could see him cringe with the sound of his footfalls. It sounded like he was walking through human organs to get to the end of the corridor.
There had been a small circle around Murmur that was completely clear of everything, but she was going to have to step outside of that now, and she really didn’t want to.
“What’s next?” Sinister asked, and Murmur could tell she’d probably retched herself sick already. Her voice was hoarse, and her eyes had tears in the corners of them.
“I think we just move on and find the next trial,” Veranol offered, though he didn’t sound exactly confident.
“I wasn’t expecting this to be the Trial of Strength,” muttered Dansyn. “I’d hate to see what the next ones are, because that felt pretty bloody combat-like to me.”
Murmur didn’t have the heart to echo what she knew the others were thinking. Whatever the next trial was, it was probably only going to get more difficult, or more gross from here on out. Or both.
Storm Entertainment
Somnia Online Division
Game Development Offices
Late Day Twenty-Three
Laria pushed her hair out of her eyes and rested her head with her eye sockets against the heel of her hands. She was exhausted, and the numbers were all beginning to bleed into one another the more she tried to concentrate on the work in front of her.
It was probably close to impossible to finish what she wanted to. At least before sleep. Shayla had left an hour ago, citing potential collapse if she didn’t at least attempt to get reacquainted with her bed. She’d probably only been half-joking too.
Laria let her head fall onto the desk and bashed her forehead lightly against the surface.
“Working late tonight.”
The oiliness in his voice leaked into Laria’s pores like it was trying to suffocate her. She did her best not to seem shocked and not to jump. “What do you want?”
James demonstrably closed the door behind him. She hadn’t turned to look at him yet, so she had no idea where he was exactly standing. His presence in the room was enough to make her want to scream or fly at his face. He was always fishing, wanting to find something more for his employers. Damn it. She wished Davenport had never gained the military funding for the headset development.
Then again, it hadn’t been Davenport who put in for it. It had been Michael. That son of a…
Laria took a breath. It wasn’t his mother’s fault. The decisions had been his own. As for James, Laria gathered her hands together and pushed herself up, clicking on the panic button under the middle of her desk before she did so.
It was late, so there’d only be one security guard on duty for their half of the building, but it was something that made her feel safer.
She turned and folded her arms, the perfect mom glare fixed on her face, as Wren would call it. “What are you doing here?”
Didn’t he remember the trouble he’d got in last time he pulled this shit? Laria sure as hell did. But maybe that was his point. She wasn’t about to be cowed by this overbearing, insultingly smug man.
“I thought I’d come and check on your progress. You are trying to get the headsets to mimic Wren’s circumstances again, aren’t you?” His voice was silky smooth. Nothing like it had been when he’d actually worked with them. Nothing like the person she’d thought he was. He was a good actor, she’d give him that.
“I’m trying to make sure the program is running smoothly so no glitches like we experienced the other day ever crop up again.” She smiled, not letting the expression reach her eyes, and waited.
“The glitch. That was something, wasn’t it?” His eyes tried to bore into hers, and he took a step closer. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to intimidate her, but suddenly she didn’t feel like he was succeeding.
Laria scowled. “Glitches happen all the time with new software and hardware. We’ve been pretty lucky so far. Which you’d know, if you weren’t too busy working two sides of the coin.”
This time he frowned at her and raised a hand, shaking his finger. “That won’t do, Laria. You’re beholden to us. The whole Storm Corporation is. We own what you’re working on and what you’re working with. Technically, we own you.”
“Well, that’s complete and utter bullshit.” She coughed out the words like she was trying to disguise them like they did back in middle school.
James’s eyes twinkled in amusement, but Laria didn’t think it was the sort of entertainment she would have liked.
“It’s not. You should talk to Edward more. He has a lot of information on this. In fact, he’s pulled a lot of strings to make this game of yours happen, Laria. And the game…well, that is you. You’ve done so much. I think my employer might be interested in obtaining your services.”
He was two steps closer now, and Laria couldn’t back up because her desk was behind her.
She took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye. “What you think you know and what you actually know might be two completely different things.”
“Exactly.” He inched even closer, so he was but a couple of feet away, looking down on her. She could feel and smell his breath. Coffee with a scent of mint over the top like he was trying to hide something. Since he was always trying to hide something, she didn’t think this was any exception.
“Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing coming so close? Ever heard of personal space?” She pinched her upper arms with her fingernails as she stood her ground and refused to be cowed.
“I’m not that close. I’m not touching you.” He sidled even closer, and Laria moved her hand away from her upper arms lightning fast.
She had a small pair of scissors in her left hand. Not overly sharp, but they didn’t need to be. She aimed them not far away from his crotch because his movements toward her had carried her much further than she was willing to accept.
“Yeah. No restraining order, but considering I’ve already hit the panic button, I’m well within my rights to defend myself. And I will. I’ll hurt the fuck out of you, because your motives are pure shit. Not only in here, but in there too. You want to use people as guinea pigs? Well, I won’t let you. Starting with myself and my daughter.” She leaned forward slightly, pressing the tip of the scissors closer to him. “Just. Try. Me. Fucker.”
He actually blanched and moved a step back. His smirk was tinged with uncertainty. And then Laria’s door swung open to reveal Rana, one of the night guards. Rana was one of the strongest women Laria had ever met. She worked out, and she was a long-time black belt in whatever martial art she did. Fit and deadly.
Rana raised an eyebrow at James. “This guy bothering you, Ms. Laria?”
Her voice held threats and bodily harm, and Laria watched the former assistant gulp as he watched them both.
“He was just leaving. Weren’t you, James?”
James nodded and inclined his head. “Until next time, Laria.”
She didn’t dignify it with a response.
The corridor veered abruptly to the right. Murmur was only too glad to leave the smell and sight behind them. After a good thirty feet the corridor began to slope downward.
Trial of Combat is about to begin. In order to defeat this, you must first look inside yourself. Only then will you truly be victorious.
The words flickered across the path before them, golden and wispy.
“Fantastic. It’s got a little bit of wisdom for us.” Beastial groaned.
“It’s got a point. Philosophical perhaps, but still a valid point. Can’t fight your best if you’re always second guessing yourself.” Dansyn sounded contemplative, like there was something about it he hadn’t thought of before, and now it was plaguing him.
“Okay. Hi there, deeply-in-thought bard. Can we get some strength songs up, or healing, or something that might help us deal with whatever is beyond here?” Merlin elbowed him and wiggled his eyebrows.
But through the whole thing, Murmur watched and waited.
She was weighing up the pros and cons of going through with this. The slimes had almost tipped her into forty-six. She didn’t think the bard songs were going to make or break anything from the way the wise message was phrased. Still, she refreshed everyone’s buffs inside of half a minute and cleared her throat.
“We just need to keep going,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Get through this, figure out a way to get to the end dungeons, and hopefully in the meantime, my mom can fix the virus that’s plaguing all of the world and get it adjusted before we need to blow stuff up.”
“That’s a very specific just need to keep going,” Devlish teased her, and she glared at him.
“I’m not trying to be specific. We don’t have anything definite to go off. Only what we see and what we know. What I know is that my mom is trying to create an antivirus so that we can all still play the game. And by all, I mean Telvar and Emilarth and every NPC we’ve met. They can continue to live here and
don’t need to float away.” Murmur stopped, a little taken aback by her own emotional outburst. Perhaps she was just tired.
“No need to lecture us, Mur.” Veranol sounded offended, and Mur cringed, not having meant to upset anyone.
“Sorry.” She let the genuine emotion ring through to the others, with a slight push to make sure they knew she meant it. Her powers were easily becoming an extension of her thoughts. “I didn’t mean to imply you all didn’t care. I’m just a bit worried.”
“We get it, Mur.” Sinister took her hand and squeezed it before leaning in for a hug. “It’s okay. It’s still a bit of a part of you. It always will be. Let’s just get through this dungeon first.”
Murmur nodded, but she was scared. They accepted that apology so easily, and no one seemed upset anymore, including Ver. Was that what the push of her feelings had done? Was that an okay thing?
As they continued to file through the corridor, it grew wider, allowing them to fan out. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best course of action considering that as soon as they did so, partitions shot up between them.
They could still see each other, but it was like through a milky film, like dirty glass with years’ worth of rain stains on it. Murmur glanced down, relieved to see that Snowy had been roped into hers with her. At least that was a small mercy since her offensive capabilities weren’t the best.
She didn’t have much time to think about the others and how they might fare.
Her cube suddenly disappeared into blackness like it had been dropped into an abyss.
She glanced around, her hand on Snowy’s neck, half to calm down his growling, and half to reassure herself. The air felt thick, and the voices in her head began to magnify, pushing at the boundaries she’d created around them. Her head felt slick with sweat, something she’d noticed the locus didn’t usually do.
