by Oliver Mayes
He had no healing spells, no health potions, no sustainability.
Escape was the only option.
His previous combats had been carefully orchestrated, allowing him to engage only when he saw fit. This was pandemonium, and his troops suffered for it.
His second front-line imp was pinned down and savaged by a leaping ghoul before it could rally with his group. This was painful. Imps were the foundation of his Demon Gate and Implosion abilities. Without them his chances of escape would be severely limited, but he couldn’t risk standing still for ten seconds to summon more in the middle of combat. He pressed on, sending his hounds ahead, gathering the surviving four imps around him.
Most of the ghouls were setting their sights on the entrance, where the roar of combat was at its peak. Damien couldn’t avoid combat entirely, though. A ghoul leapt from the wall at one of his hounds. It responded in kind, meeting with it in mid-air before the two of them landed heavily on the floor.
They exchanged hits, the hound sinking teeth into its neck as the ghoul flailed on top of it with extraordinary strength, its claws tearing through the natural armor plating like wrapping paper. A lightning bolt screamed through them both from the center of the room, ending the combat as abruptly and violently as it had started.
Damien stuck his back against a vacated tomb and peered over the edge. The mage was flying straight toward them, his staff projecting another arc of lightning. It missed Damien by inches, instead vaporizing an imp that had failed to find cover.
Panting in fear, Damien considered himself out of options. He was about to send his succubus to try and buy them time when the mage crashed into the wall above them, a ghoul straddling his chest. He’d drawn too much attention to himself.
The ghoul was quickly paralyzed by the lightning aura and the two of them fell to the ground at Damien’s feet. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He and two hounds finished the pair off.
But even as Damien whooped in triumph, he saw the three paladins were once again advancing down the lanes on his position.
He had two hounds, three imps and a succubus remaining. Even at full force, fighting three paladins head-on would be suicide. Behind them, more ghouls were leaping from their tombs. Going back was not an option. He’d have to go through.
Now the mage was dead, the air was that much clearer. Damien sent the succubus and all three imps up, instructing them to fly straight for the far right-hand corner ahead of them.
They flew over the advancing paladin and had almost made it unharmed when an arrow strummed into his succubus’s side from the opposite corner of the room. The ranger had found a target worth breaking stealth for. The armor allowed her to survive the hit, but only just. She shrieked and crash-landed on the ground behind the last tomb, Noigel rushing to remove the arrow from her side.
Damien couldn’t worry about that now. One of the paladins was bearing down on him, pausing a few feet away with his buckler and mace raised against the snarling hounds. To the side, a cluster of rampaging ghouls was keeping the other two paladins occupied. This one guy was just here to hold him in place.
Damien couldn’t turn his back, but the howling of the ghouls was drawing ever nearer behind him. He waited as long as he dared before pointing at an imp who’d escaped the carnage and casting Demon Gate. Now he was at the front of the crypt.
The paladin stared at the imp dumbfounded, then turned to find Damien half the room away. Taking his eyes off the hounds was a mistake. Each of them grabbed him by one of his ankles, holding him in position as five elite ghouls set upon the lot of them indiscriminately. The imp and the hounds were quickly wiped out, then the ghouls turned their attention to the paladin. The other two paladins arrived too late to save him, and then they too found themselves locked in combat.
The hardest part was yet to come. Nothing Damien did mattered if he couldn’t find a way around the tanks. And he only had two imps and a dying succubus left to do it with. Rising Tide’s tanks were holding their position against three ghouls, which quickly became two when the gunslinger blasted one in the face from the stairs. Behind him, the two paladins were wounded but winning. Only two of the five ghouls remained.
By now the graves were empty. This was Damien's last chance.
He stared at Noigel and focused on what he wanted to happen, the scenario playing out in his head for the imp to actualize. Noigel’s eyes widened, the freakish grin Bloodlust had bestowed on him faltering.
For a moment, Damien thought Noigel was going to refuse. Then he yelled a slew of demonic commands and rose into the air, the other imp heading straight for the stairs. The succubus leaned out of cover and cast Circle of Hell directly over the foot of the staircase.
The floor his enemies stood on became as black as the void. Then flames erupted, not from the ground, but from their own bodies. The health of the ghouls was dropping, slowly but surely, yet their attacks were no less ferocious. The tanks had high health and suffered little from the damage over time, but their armor had been reduced by 50%. Which meant they were suddenly only half as good at not dying.
Previously, the ghouls had been inflicting only scrapes and dents on their shields; now they were tearing through them like putty. The priests’ hands were constantly bursting into light as they tried to keep up. Damien’s succubus began charging her Chaotic Bolt next to him. In a few moments, the cooldown on Damien’s Demon Gate would reset. They wouldn’t have much longer than that.
The imps shot toward the bottom of the staircase, just as the gunslinger let loose another pair of high velocity rounds, putting another ghoul back to rest.
It was now or never.
Noigel pelted over the enflamed tanks while the remaining imp took its place a few feet back from the ghoul. In perfect unison, the succubus released her Chaotic Bolt at the foot of the stairs and Damien drew his daggers, casting Demon Gate on the only imp he could see.
The Chaotic Bolt was fast, but Demon Gate was instant. There was Damien, stood front and center for all to see. Not half a second later, the Chaotic Bolt screamed into the ghoul’s flank. It had already been whittled down by Circle of Hell and the sustained pokes from the tanks, but this brought it right to the edge of death. Damien darted forward while it was still staggering and drove his daggers into either side of its head, receiving XP for a killing blow.
And then Rift Walker activated.
Damien could use Demon Gate again, and he was in the perfect position to see Noigel flying up the stairs as fast as his wings and the succubus’s Bloodlust could carry him. It was also the perfect position to die horribly if he didn’t move fast. The gunslinger had reloaded and was already raising his hand-cannons, the faintest look of confusion settling into his eyes as his body continued to burn and the hands of the healers flashed on either side of him. Damien pointed past him and cast Demon Gate on Noigel, stumbling onto his hands as he picked up where his imp had left off. In two seconds he’d gone from being trapped behind a wall of tanks and healers to halfway up the stairs to safety.
He turned to find the gunslinger swiveling round, training his guns up the stairs. Noigel was still in view. Damien Imploded him. The rogue fired his rounds into the ceiling as he was swept away, straight into the middle of the circle. Damien didn’t stop to admire the maneuver. He kept running. It was only as he neared the top that he realized an armored outline was silhouetted against the exit.
Damien had nothing left. There was no way around this. No more tricks up his sleeves. All the fight drained out of him and he slowed to a crawl. He’d come so far, only to fail at the final hurdle.
It was yet another paladin.
What a bad joke.
They started running down the stairs toward him, clearly intending to use the bottle-neck to their advantage. Damien drew his daggers and screamed in defiance as he used the last of his stamina to rush them head-on. He was totally outmatched against a paladin in hand-to-hand combat, but he would go down fighting. Or so he thought.
> As he swung his blades, running at full tilt, the paladin effortlessly sidestepped him and caught him by the scruff of his neck, using his momentum to fling him up the stairs where he landed heavily on his front.
Damien staggered quickly to his feet, expecting to be struck down at any moment. The paladin was still facing down the stairs, away from him. Now the half light was at his back, he could see who his opponent was. He’d seen that armor before. He’d seen that inhuman strength before as well. It was Lillian.
There was a hiss and a ting as an arrow that had been intended for him ricocheted off her shield instead.
“What are you doing? Get out of here!”
Damien couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He could scarcely have been more surprised to be saved by Aetherius himself. Lillian was not impressed. She ran up the stairs and grabbed him again, forcibly dragging him out into the cold light.
“There, you’re out, congratulations! Do your teleport thing or whatever and get lost! I can’t hold them off forever!”
Damien hadn’t thought this far ahead, but she was right. Now he was both out of the dungeon and out of combat, he’d be able to use his portal spell.
As the portal started to form, Lillian braced herself at the dungeon’s entrance with her shield planted firmly in front of her. He watched her to make sure there was still time, but there was no one better suited to protecting people in the entire game.
She’d really saved him. He had so many questions, but they would have to wait until he was sa—
The dagger was driven with perfect precision, piercing straight through his back and coming out through his chest. His portal spell died and a heavy hand on his shoulder forced him to his knees. It had been a sneak critical, his favorite kind of hit. The hand moved to his forehead, forcing it back to expose his neck. The same blade that had run him through was now pressed against his throat.
Lillian heard his gasp and turned, running with all her might to save him. It was too late. The player behind him lowered his face and whispered into Damien’s ear.
“This is for posting my death online and taking my dagger, bitch.”
The dagger was drawn across his neck, another critical hit. The last thing he saw was the rage in Lillian’s eyes as she ran toward him. Then everything went dark.
A message popped up on his screen, the only thing he could see.
You have been killed by ‘Shankyou’. Your experience has been reset to the start of your current level and your body may be looted, at which point a random item of equipped gear will be forfeit.
Remember, it’s only a game!
Death cooldown – 23 hours, 59 minutes and 54 seconds.
Thank you for playing Saga Online.
27
Bad Endings
Damien stared at the timer, his breathing coming in short, sharp heaves. He could feel the bed underneath him, the plastic sheet clammy against the bare skin of his forearms. He clutched at his chest, then at his throat. Both were intact. He was out. The sensory nodes of the IMBA set had disengaged, easing him back into reality so he was provided with only visual input. It was an important feature.
Without ending the immersion gently, players were liable to go into shock. The measured release wasn’t very helpful to Damien. His trauma wasn’t limited to the physical.
He stared at the message that was being thrust so rudely into his face. An unequivocal, uncompromising, insensitive testimony to his failure. One sentence in particular he read over and over, the lightheartedness that should have been comforting serving only to unbalance him further: ‘Remember, it’s only a game!’
Only it wasn’t just a game. His failure was going to have very real consequences.
At last, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled the headset off and dropped it on the bed without sitting up. The shock was still spilling over him, but it hadn’t crested yet. It was only a matter of time.
For the moment, he was thirsty. He was hungry. He sat up and extended a shaking hand toward the canister of sludge Freja had given him, his vision blurry as his pupils trembled against his will.
He forced himself to stare at the rim of the canister as he raised it to his lips, struggling to hold it steady. As he tried to tip it back, his throat sealed itself closed, forcing the liquid back out as he retched all over himself like a newborn child. While he’d been out on his ill-fated trip, his only food had gone rancid. Nutrient juice was usually bad, but there was a big difference between ‘bad’ and ‘expired’. So now he had no food either.
He lashed out before he could even stop himself, throwing the canister into the side table. It spun upside down, the putrid dregs decorating his only safe space in a spiral of green bile.
He’d found a way to make a bad situation worse. The nutrient juice was a far cry from food, but the mess he’d made reminded him of a similar situation from not so long ago.
He picked up the pillow and held it over his face as he howled into it.
Eventually, he ran out of energy and his rage began to ebb away. Damien discarded the pillow and threw himself on the bed, not wanting to sleep but with no desire to do anything else either. It was only when his eyes settled on the wall that his shame provoked him to action.
Freja was one of the only people who had shown him any kindness since he left his home. This was no way to repay it. He only had tissues to clean up with, but at least there was hot water to help it along. The plastic cover on the bed had prevented most of the damage and was easy enough to deal with, but the stains on the ceiling gave him plenty of time to assess his situation.
He had three days left until the competition drew to an end, and now one of them was completely lost.
The retaliation had come far faster than he'd believed possible. And he’d called his channel ‘Damien’s Not Dead Yet’. That had aged about as well as the nutrient juice. The video of him being slaughtered was probably already doing the rounds online.
He’d look a fool. He was a fool.
In his short time playing as an occultist, his arrogance had got the better of him. He should have played it safe. He should have listened to Lillian.
He was still berating himself as he finished cleaning up his latest mess. The plastic sheets had been no problem, but no amount of rubbing would remove the faint green stain on the walls.
Maybe it was just his negativity taking over, but the faint scent of rotting plant matter seemed to be filling the space.
He’d only be able to start playing again in twenty-three and a half hours' time. And he didn’t have the money to stay here more than a single extra day, even if he got a normal rate.
Grudgingly, he put the visor back on and confronted the irritating message.
“Menu.”
The usual options were there, albeit with the inventory tab grayed out. He’d have to wait until he logged back in to find out what had been taken. Maybe he could ask Lillian? Assuming she hadn’t died as well. Somehow, he found that unlikely.
Damien went to the Friends tab to see about adding her when he saw a name there he’d all but forgotten. Kevin. His name was grayed out, but the chat box was highlighted in blue. He opened it and found that Kevin had left him a message last night.
‘Hello Damien, how’s it going? I’m looking for some feedback on the headset, please call me when you can. K.’
Hmm. What was he supposed to do with this? He decided to keep it brief. He could do without Kevin grilling him about the headset. That was just about the least of his concerns at the moment.
‘Hi Kevin. Sorry, busy week. Headset works great. I’ve been recording, so you’ll see for yourself in a few days. Little busy at the moment. Talk soon.’
Damien had no idea if that was true or not. It probably was. Either CU would catch him and the headset would find its way back, or… well, there wasn’t really a second option. His capture was just about guaranteed, sooner or later. The real question was whether it would happen before or after the competition ended. Not a question he
felt like contemplating right now.
There was enough on his mind. His death was a hideous setback, without a doubt, but there had to be something useful he could do. What was he doing before he saw the message? Right. Adding Lillian.
He found the contacts request list and had started sounding out her name when the whole screen faded and a familiar window pressed itself into the forefront of his vision.
Voice Chat Invitation: Mobius46, Gamer I.D 000046, A/D
Seriously, Kevin? Right now?
Damien let it ring for a while. He couldn’t decline without letting Kevin know he was there and had decided not to talk to him. Yet he really, really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He’d just have to wait until Kevin gave up.
Only Kevin didn’t give up. The call remained there for well over a minute as Damien resolutely stared it down, determined to be left in peace so he could try and salvage something from his ruined plans. Still it rang.
His eye started to twitch.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had no choice but to answer the call.
“What?”
“Hey, Damien… how’s it going?”
Damien’s lip twitched. That innocuous question, casual yet so insincere, could not have come at a more inappropriate time.
“I’m actually busy at the moment, I’ll call you back when—”
“Hey! Don’t be like that! We haven’t spoken since you got the headset! Surely you’ve got a few minutes for me?”
“Fine. What do you want?”
Kevin enthusiastically plowed ahead, the coldness of Damien’s replies apparently going completely unnoticed.
“That’s the spirit! You can tell me how the controls are, does the interface feel more responsive than before… oh, I know! When you were in the character creation page, how was the customization process? Did the facial scanners help? Yeah, let’s start with that!”
