by Oliver Mayes
There was a section in the front reserved for people who wanted unrestricted internet browsing, a mix of screens and mini-projectors occupying each alcove in sets of desks with dividers put up between them. There was another section further back where the much larger pods sat in rows, crammed together in bunches to fit more of them in. It looked remarkably unsafe; if one fell over, they’d all go. Damien had no doubt it was in direct contravention of several CU regulations. Perfect.
“It’s a bit hot for that helmet, ain’t it?”
Damien hurriedly took the IMBA set off, wiping the sweat off on his jeans before looking at the counter. There was an old man standing behind it, swiping through an ancient touch-screen phone.
“Hi!” said Damien, carefully avoiding the question. “I’d like to use a pod, please.”
The phone gave off an electronic blip before it was set down. The man who’d been operating it brought his eyes into focus on Damien, staring at him appraisingly over a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles. He looked old enough to have seen the turn of the millennium.
“Sure thing, I’ll need to see some ID.”
Damien was crestfallen. He’d never used a pod hotel before and hadn’t realized he’d need his identity card. He couldn’t use it in his current situation, CU would know where he was immediately. This exercise was becoming harder all the time.
“I don’t have my ID on me. I didn’t realize I’d need it. Sorry, I’ll come back later.”
He turned around and was just putting his helmet back on when the millennial called out to him.
“Hey, little man, no need for that. This one’s on me.”
He held up his own ID card and waved it at him.
“Just bring yer own next time, ya’hear? Now, how long you stayin’ for?”
Damien beamed at him. He’d be crazy not to make the most of this.
“I want to stay the night, head out tomorrow at noon. Is that all right?”
“Wait, what? The whole night?”
Damien started to worry, but the old man laughed and he relaxed.
“You sure know how to enjoy yourself! Just slap your money on the counter and I’ll put you in for the day.”
Damien fished through his wallet, being careful to hold it against the counter to hide his ID as he removed Cassandra’s cash-card. He didn’t have enough on him to pay for a whole day’s stay and wanted to save what little he had for emergencies. He’d just have to pay his mom back later.
The card was read successfully and Damien punched in the pin.
“Awesome! Here’s your key card, good for any unoccupied pod until noon tomorrow. I’ll show you through.”
The old timer hobbled out from behind his desk, touch-screen phone still in hand, and led him past the divider desks. Damien caught sight of a couple of people playing games or watching videos, but the place was mostly empty. The pods were all unoccupied, each of them open and waiting. Despite everything that had happened, Damien was thrilled. He’d never used a pod before.
“Alrighty, there’s a compartment just here on the outside where you can put your bag, unlocks with the key card. Same card unlocks the shower round back. No towels, you just blast the air dryer when you’re done, but no more than fifteen minutes per visit, ya’hear? If you just need toilet stuff, that room over there will do the trick. Don’t think you’ll want to spend more than fifteen minutes in there, though.”
The man pointed at an open toilet stall across the way, whose missing door had been replaced with a makeshift curtain.
“You’ve got heat lamps in the pod too, just don’t turn’em on while you’re doing your fancy VR whachamaggigit or you’ll come out with a tan. The Wi-Fi password is on the inside of the door. Anything else you can’t figure out yourself, give me a holler. Oh, and my name’s Gian. Have yourself a good time!”
Damien gave him a grin and a thumbs up which Gian returned in kind before wandering back to his desk, his nose already buried in his phone again. Damien climbed into the pod and looked over the buttons. His host had been very helpful, but everything was clearly labeled. It wasn’t hard to figure out how to use it.
After a few seconds, Damien found the button he was looking for and the door closed with a hiss. He selected another and the entire pod swiveled to horizontal. Damien grabbed the charging cord out of his bag before sticking it into one of the sockets by his waist, plugging the helmet in and switching it on. He needed to check something. He used the IMBA set to browse the Wi-Fi instead of going into the game, navigating to Aetherius’s page with a series of blinks and subtle rolls of the head.
The front page of Aetherius’s online channel confirmed Damien’s worst fears. It was an image of him, his online face absurdly similar to the real thing, naked except for a loincloth and a big friendly grin. The video was entitled:
“Damien (aka Scorpius) gets a five-second boost. Let’s see how he does!”
With forced calmness, Damien hovered over the video and activated it. Sure enough, Aetherius hadn’t included the bit where Damien gushed out his fear of losing his mother and begged for help. Or how Aetherius had promised to make him famous. This is what the two-faced, lying, treacherous narcissist had meant. Damien was very famous now.
It didn’t have as many views as the “Damien vs Toutatis” fight had before, but this video had only been put up a few hours ago. Damien’s one big advantage had been people thinking he was cool for fighting Toutatis. Now that had been taken away. He was famous for being kicked down a hole, naked. Aetherius had turned him into a sideshow for his own benefit.
Damien clenched his fists. He was already committed to winning the competition to get the money; he didn’t have the means to pay for his mother’s operation any other way. But Aetherius had made this difficult. The only way he was going to win back people's respect and get votes would be to humiliate Aetherius in kind. Damien looked at the comments:
Shmushypoopookins: Welcome to the meat grinder, kiddo XD
ODLHODLHODLHODLH: Hole in the ground 1 : 0 Damien
L3g0la5s: Lots of people feeling pretty stupid for making characters called ‘Scorpius’ today, hurhurhur.
No sympathy whatsoever. Just one user after another waiting to take a cheap kick at Aetherius’s leftovers. Scavenger trolls. Still, at least Damien had one advantage going for him. Everyone thought he was dead. As long as they thought that, he could level up in private and start attacking Aetherius’s guild with a twenty-four-hour head start.
His character was still too weak now, but it wouldn’t be long. Once he got to level 10 he could start trying to pick off the weaker members. He had to get to level 10 as soon as possible.
Damien closed the page and loaded up Saga Online. It was time to get back to work.
12
No Rest for the Wicked
“Ah, Daemien! As expected, if slightly later than I’d hoped. So, did you vanquish your enemies?”
Damien blinked, waiting for his night vision to kick in. The entire dungeon was nearly pitch black. The dim light barely made it past the entrance, let alone reaching into Damien’s lair. After a few moments, Bartholomew’s aesthetically challenging face blurred into view. “No, but I’ve held them off for now. I should be all right for the next few hours. Is the Soul Well ready?”
Bartholomew dramatically stepped out of the way, flourishing his arms for effect. The structure he revealed was underwhelming to say the least: it was a hodgepodge pile of rocks. It had the appearance of an igloo that had been dropped from a great height. The layer of rocks on the ground were set firmly and squarely, but after that it looked like someone had simply stacked boulders on top until no more would fit.
Damien stared at Bartholomew angrily before deciding his wrath was better directed at something weaker than himself. He looked around for Noigel instead and found the imp dozing against the wall. He was lying on one side, his claws kicking feebly in the air. He was dreaming of doggy paddling…or maybe disemboweling rats. Damien knew where he’d have put his money
.
Too sensible to shout at Bartholomew and too kind to shout at his sleeping minion, Damien opted for sarcasm instead.
“Wow, I’m so glad I put my faith in you two. I’ve never seen such a pretty pile of rocks before.”
“No need to take that tone. All that’s required for its completion is soul energy. Go add the final ingredient to your structure and then tell me if your customary impudence was fitting.”
Damien obediently walked up to the ‘structure’ and placed his hand on it. A prompt appeared.
‘Embed one soul? Yes/No’
He nodded and silvery wisps flowed out of his open palm, pouring into the cracks in the rock. The cracks glowed and the rocks rearranged themselves in front of his eyes, twisting and grinding against each other until they fitted together as perfectly as the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The translucent blueprint faded as its dimensions were filled. The result was a rounded, sealed dome.
Damien could feel it thrumming against his hand as though the soul within were bouncing off the sides, struggling to free itself. It felt like the vibrations of an engine, or at least that’s how he imagined an engine might feel.
He removed his hand and inspected it, surprising himself when a Stat page came up in much the same manner as when he inspected Noigel.
Daemien’s Soul Well
Health: 250
Souls: 1/10
In addition to the brief summary, there was a red cross in the top right corner of the window. When Damien focused on it and nodded, it was quickly overlapped by a text notification:
‘Destroy the Soul Well? Yes/No’
“Ah. That brings back memories. I remember when I constructed my first Soul Well. You are so incredibly, remarkably weak.”
Damien declined the option to destroy what he’d just finished building and turned his attention to Noigel, grumbling in his throat. A notification came up stating that the ‘Soul Well That Ends Well’ quest was complete, although Bartholomew had spoiled it a little with his rudeness.
Damien hunkered down so he could address his stirring imp at eye level.
“Hello, Noigel. Did the mysterious voice come back while I was gone?”
Noigel narrowed his eyes before sullenly shaking his head.
“That’s good. Whatever it was must have moved on. If it comes back I’ll have to keep you here as a builder, for your protection. Let’s hope the voice doesn’t come back. Don’t you agree?”
Noigel stared at him, his big black eyes examining Damien’s expression as he tried to discern whether Damien was stupid enough to believe what he’d said or if he was being played. Damien kept his face quite blank. At last, Noigel replied with a single curt nod.
“Great! I’m glad we’re on the same page. You have a rest while I make the preparations for the next quest.”
He stood up and went into his quest list. The ‘Slither a Mile in My…. Shoes?’ quest was sitting at the top. So, he had a new summon to play with, as well as this spell ‘Possession’. He went into his Skills tab to examine them in detail.
Summon Wraith: Mana: 250, Souls: 3 – You point at the ground, searing it with runes to open a portal to the demon world. After channeling for 10 seconds, the portal is opened and a wraith arrives on the mortal plane. The wraith will serve you until it dies or is dismissed. Wraith stats improve every five levels.
Aside from the mana cost and soul cost increase, the text was identical to that of the ‘Summon Imp’ skill. This thing cost three souls, so judging from the description of Soul Harvest it should also take up three slots of his Soul Summon Limit. That was a lot more expensive than the imps. He hoped it would be worth it. He scrolled down and found the second of his new abilities.
Possession: Mana: 150 – You point at a summoned minion and take control of it, seeing through its eyes and acting in its place. Your body is left vacant for the duration of the spell. The spell will end when the minion is destroyed or you choose to cancel the possession, returning to your own body.
Whoa. That’s a cool ability right there. He wouldn’t have to put himself on the front line anymore; instead, he’d be able to assume control of one of his own demons.
Excitement gripped him and he checked his soul count. He had three souls exactly. Perfect. He pointed at the ground and eagerly thought ‘wraith’.
The customary red flares appeared under his watchful eye, but they were not tracing out a simple pentagram as they had done with the imps. This was something slightly more complicated, something Damien did not immediately recognize. It was only as the runes finished tracing that Damien made out the scythe etched within the circle’s confines. The lines glowed and a portal opened from above as it had before.
Where the imps had dropped through and landed on the ground with a low splat, the wraith demonstrated itself to be markedly different right from the start. It did not drop; it descended. A tail of shadows unfolded through the dimensional rift, latching to the ground on contact. The rest of the body followed. Long curved blades protruded from under each arm, both of which were crossed over an incorporeal, skeletal torso. Its head was lowered as if in prayer, yet Damien could not recall having ever seen a creature that would so offend God with its mere existence.
The portal closed as the summoning was completed, yet the wraith did not stir. Damien took the chance to inspect it.
Wraith
Stats:
Strength 5 - Agility 30 - Intelligence 5
Constitution 10 - Stamina 15 - Wisdom 5
Abilities: Shadow Beast, Impale, Slash.
The wraith had a hefty chunk of agility, but the rest of the stats were quite low. Not that it mattered; if what Bartholomew had told him was to be believed, this thing would be fulfilling the role of an assassin. It certainly looked the part. Even as Damien stared at it from a short distance away it was phasing in and out of his vision, the body blending with the dark background at the edges. It was at once insubstantial and fearsome.
Damien mustered up his courage and stood directly in front of it. This thing belonged to him. It shouldn’t be able to harm him.
“Hello, wraith. Can you hear me?”
The wraith’s head snapped upward, allowing Damien to look it over properly for the first time since it was summoned. The eyes were all black with no apparent pupils, just like Bartholomew’s and those of the imps. The rest of its face was all but featureless; where the mouth and nose should have been there was only empty shadow.
The imps were functional but had personality, silly though it may have been. This thing was a creature of actions rather than words. Not wasting any time, Damien pointed at it and thought ‘Possession’.
His vision swam and blackened. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at himself. Only they weren’t his eyes, and he was most definitely not himself.
As if in a bad dream, he watched his own body buckle and collapse, his eyes milky white and unseeing. Instinctively he dashed forward and caught it, surprising himself with his own speed. It was only as he stretched out his arms that he remembered what was going on. The curved blades extended from under each of his forearms and he hadn’t taken a single step to cover the ground between them. He’d simply glided. He was inside the wraith.
He looked himself over, glad not to have stabbed himself with the vicious arm-blades by mistake, and lowered his unconscious body to the ground.
That done, he started to check out his new form. It was a very strange sensation. The strangest part of it was that he had no legs. How was he supposed to move like this? He’d moved instinctively when he went to catch himself, but it seemed much more difficult when he had to think about it. Tentatively, he leaned backward. His body followed his movement and reversed gently. Ah, so all he had to do was lean in the direction he wanted to go. It was kind of like walking, just without having to catch yourself with your feet before you fell.
He spun his torso each way and found with delight that he could turn on the spot. A total range of movement. His tail twisted behind him as
he rotated, merging with the shadows and clinging to the floor to keep him balanced and upright.
The ‘Shadow Beast’ skill was probably a variant of his own ‘Shadow Walker’. That much was clear from the name and the wraith’s appearance. Since the tail could cling so tightly to the featureless stone floor, he had an inkling of another way in which it might be applied.
He came to a stop facing the cavern wall. An opportunity for fun had presented itself, and Damien was never one to miss an opportunity.
Damien tilted forward, not stopping before making contact with the wall itself. As he drew next to it, his lower body latched onto the wall and he found himself scaling the side, defying all sense of gravity.
Elated, he drifted all the way to the top of the domed ceiling, hovering upside down over his Soul Well. He spotted Noigel flipping him the finger and would have ordered the little cretin to drop and do fifty pushups were he not lacking a mouth and functioning throat in possessing the wraith. He compromised, flipping a finger back. Inability to speak aside, this demon had some unique advantages. Damien doubted its damage would be close to that of a true assassin, but no assassin could walk up walls so easily, so far as he knew at least.
Returning to ground level, Damien thought, ‘cancel Possession’.
He opened his eyes – his actual eyes.
His vision was entirely red. Noigel was squatting on his chest, jabbing him painfully with a clawed finger.
“What on earth is it?”
Noigel pointed at himself, then the wraith and finally at the ceiling. He concluded his bid with an attempt at puppy eyes that was far more grotesque than cute.
