by Deck Davis
“We need a place to experience farm. Get our levels up, choose our skills. We need somewhere where there’s unlikely to be other fighters, but at the same time, there’s enough low-level critters for us to kill. Over to you, Glora.”
She gave a little smile and straightened her posture. This was where Glora would be in her element. She’d spent hours on the mainnet in Perlshaw studying up on NPC monsters. The beauty of VBR was that, special additions aside, most maps chose from a default catalog of beasts. Added to that, most monsters were placed in a specific terrain. You always found scud-crabs near water. Scuttlers lived in the jungle. Sand-dogs loved deserts.
She put her index finger on her chin and bit her bottom lip. She always did this when she was making a show about thinking something through. “Let’s see. We need medium-exp, low-risk critters. Somewhere where they’ll be plentiful, but somewhere remote. Hmmm...Let me use my Field of Vision Rune. It’ll let me see where NPCs are on the map.”
She touched the circular rune on her wrist. Then, she started moving her eyes left to right, as though she was reading something. She must have had her map open, I guessed. Before long, she settled her gaze on me.
“Got it. Get your maps open, boys.”
I opened my map. As soon as I did, something caught my attention.
Time until the first wave: 29:23
Okay, less than thirty minutes before the overseers initiated the first wave, shrinking the map. Between now and then, we needed to level up a little, and then make sure we were close to the middle gridline so that we can get to wherever the safe zone was. The first wave wasn’t likely to shrink the map too much, so we should be okay.
“My map’s open, baby,” said Eddie. “Ready when you are.”
“Less of the ‘baby,’ ginger-nut. Remember what happened last time you called me that?”
Eddie instinctively put his hand to his cheek and rubbed it as though he’d been slapped.
“Okay,” said Glora. “See the north coastline where the jungle thins? Lots of crabs around there. Tons of ‘em, probably. But they’re low level. As soon as we hit level two, they’ll be useless. We need something with a bit of bite. So, we could move inland a little. See where the jungle crosses to the dunes? There’s a long plain, probably full of dried up grass that leads onto the sand. We’re bound to find something tasty there.”
“So, it’s coast versus country,” said Rynk. “Reminds me of a program my stepdad used to watch. Where they’d show a couple around houses on the coast and in the country, and make them choose one to buy.”
“Great, except we’re not shopping for houses, we’re looking for monsters,” I said.
“I vote inland,” offered Eddie. “Stay ahead of the curve. At some point, the overseers are going to shrink this bad boy, and I don’t want to be on the beach when it happens. If we’re close to the wave, we can wait on the edge and catch anyone who’s panicking about getting caught in the wave.”
“Wave surfing’s stupid,” said Rynk.
“How so, axe-hoarder?” asked Eddie.
“Because you spend all your time messing around on the edge of the wave when you could be leveling or looting.”
I looked at Glora. “What’s your vote?”
“Coast,” she said.
So, Eddie was inland, Glora was coast, and Rynk didn’t care. As captain, it was my decision. It was one of many that I’d have to make, some of which would be successful, others would be failures. Over the course of the battle, even the smallest decisions would add up to victory or disaster. I’d was just a matter of making the right choice each time, which was much easier said than done.
Not only did we need to farm experience by killing monsters, but we also needed to be able to loot. I didn’t think there’d be many looting opportunities in the coast north of the jungle. “Let’s head inland,” I said. “Glora, could you please do the honors?”
Glora pinned a purple marker on her map. We left the temple and set out northeast, walking through the jungle as a unit. Every so often, we heard the distant calls of other fighters. We heard yells of pain and shouts of rage. When we did, I held up my right arm and clenched my fist, which meant ‘stop.’ When the coast looked clear, I unclenched and lowered my arm. It was a system Bill had taught me when we were kids and used to play army. It wasn’t the most complicated system, really.
Despite the lack of combat around us, it seemed that the map was seeing some action. I didn’t know if it was in the dunes or the tundra, but people were fighting. Every so often, I’d get a notification.
113 Teams Remaining
112 Teams Remaining
I smiled at each one because it meant our odds had improved. This was a marathon, and we were getting to the finish line, yard by yard.
Eventually, we reached the plains that Glora had marked. This was a section of terrain that was between the jungle and sand dune quadrants. As such, it was neither one nor the other. The ground was strewn with vegetation, but rather than being the lush green of the jungle, it was instead a knot of brown and yellow weeds and other plants that had adapted to a harsh environment. Hard-shelled insects scuttled along the ground while what sounded like coyotes cat-called each other in the distance. There were a few buildings lying empty, and, thankfully, there was no sign of other players looting them. The map was so big right now that it was entirely possible we were the first ones to come here.
“Let’s level up a little, then loot,” I told the team.
“Roger that,” said Eddie.
We prowled the dried plains and looked for anything worth taking on. We soon found that the coyote-like creatures were the ripest fruit. They were called rustfurs. The fact they called such a dried-up terrain home meant that they were toughened to survive in extreme environments. As such, it seemed they had plenty of resistances and buffs. For one, anything fire-related had little effect on them. As well as that, I guessed that you had to be quick on a hunt if you wanted to eat, and so the rustfurs had frustratingly high dodge stats.
We split into two teams. Rynk and I went west, Glora and Eddie east, though we didn’t stray too far from each other. As a blade savant, Rynk had spent his first skill point on Blade Float, which let him wield his blades without touching them. While he stood in the background and sliced up the rustfurs from a safe distance, I had to resort to hacking and slashing my way through their numbers.
I fought until my stamina drained, then I’d retreat and let Rynk take the hot seat. When my bar refilled, I’d rinse and repeat. Together, we got through eight of the beasts.
Level up to level 2!
- HP increased to 150
- Stamina increased to 132
- Mana increased to 218
[Choose a new skill or upgrade existing]
- Armorer 1/5
- Terrain Drain 0/5
- Abmeleon 0/5
- Skill Steal 0/5
Armorer level two would have freed up the skill again so that I could steal another proficiency from someone. The problem with that was that, as the battle went on, people would be tougher. They’d be more alert. If I was going to have any chance of stealing a proficiency, I had to be ready to fight straight afterward.
For the same reason, I decided against Skill Steal. This left Terrain Drain and Abmeleon. Terrain Drain was a defensive skill, whereas Abmeleon relied on stealth. That made it easy to choose. The sneakier I was, the better chance I had of stealing skills without getting into a fight straight afterward. Now, all I needed to do was find armor and rings that made me stealthier.
Abmeleon skill unlocked!
Level 1/5
With my new skill in place, I decided I’d give Rynk a show. Like most people, I doubted he’d even heard of abermorph before. Rynk was staring away from me, to his right. He wasn’t moving, and I guessed he was choosing a new skill since he’d also leveled up. With a thought, I activated my skill.
Abmeleon activated!
Particles of dust rose from the ground. At first a fe
w of them, barely even noticeable, but they quickly multiplied until it seemed like I was in the middle of a storm. They began as translucent, only visible when the sunlight hit them. One by one they began to change color, becoming the same yellow and brown as the cracked ground around us. With a whoosh, the particles flew at me and coated me.
I stretched my arm out in front of me. The Abmeleon effect was so good that even I could barely see it, except when I stared intently. At a far enough distance, I’d be invisible. Anyone looking at me would just see whatever terrain I’d blended into. I knew that as I put points into Abmeleon, the camouflage distance would shorten until I could stand next to someone without them realizing.
With my new effect, though, came a cost. I checked my stats and watched as my mana began to drain.
215/218
214/218
213/218
I was going to have to be thrifty with it, it seemed, unless I could find something that boosted mana. Deciding against playing an invisibility trick on Rynk, I deactivated abermorph. Eddie was always telling me I needed to lighten up a little, and maybe he was right, but I needed a clear head today. The particles disintegrated from me, leaving me completely visible again.
When the others joined us again, I checked their character menus. Rynk had added Wall Walk to his repertoire, which was the skill he’d used when we’d first thought, back in Bernli. It allowed him to cling to walls and ceilings using arcane energy, which would be useful if we needed to storm a building from different angles. While Eddie, Glora and I charged the doors, Rynk could crawl up the walls and onto the roof like a spider. Eddie chose a passive skill called Evasion, which gave him a chance to avoid magic and melee attacks. He had also unlocked Snuffer. Snuffer was a handy ability that would allow Eddie to nullify an enemy’s magic abilities for a time equivalent to how much mana he was prepared to spend using it.
Finally, Glora had acquired the Hexnado and Traps skills. Hexnado, when used, unleashed swirls of mana-charged damage, with the distance and power of each swirl increasing the more times she leveled the skill. Traps, an ability that I sensed would become useful later, let her set mana snares on the ground.
Feeling stronger, we moved inward across the plains and entered the Sand Dune quadrant on the map. As soon as we set foot on the first patch of sand, the change in temperature was startling. Where the jungle heat had such a humidity to it that it made my skin damp, the sand dunes were a drier heat. The air was so hot that it felt like it was warming my lungs with each breath. It was like breathing in the vapors from a fire.
You have entered the Sand Dune Quadrant.
Considering Dad had a sand-dune-themed training map in his studio, you’d think I would have been at home here. Not so. The Eden VBR version of sand dunes was an altogether harsher one.
“What the hell is that?” said Eddie. “Just over there?”
“Damned if I know,” said Rynk.
In the distance, spread across the dunes like furry little balls of snow, were thousands upon thousands of what looked like rabbits. They were lined up in neat rows and seemed to be sleeping.
“It looks like rabbits,” I said.
“That’s some level-up fodder if ever I saw any,” said Rynk.
I shook my head. I wasn’t so sure that this would be as straightforward as it looked.
Chapter Eight – Overseer Lucas
It was humorous to see him shake when I entered the room. People tended to do that quite a lot, but not because I was scary. I’d always had a slight frame, and I wasn’t the type to kid myself. What scared them wasn’t me, but my title and my name. My ‘overseer’ title demanded respect, while my ‘Helm’ surname promised repercussions for those who didn’t give a sufficient amount of it.
The man knew it was me who had entered the room without even needing to turn around and check. The gel-screen he was coding on didn’t show reflections, so the poor man would have had to rely on sound. He’d hear the sweep of my overseer gown and the jingle of jewels that even a year of his pathetic salary couldn’t buy, and he’d know it was me.
‘Don’t be so cruel, Lucas,’ I said to myself. I was always correcting myself, in my head. I had to. When you became a New Eden overseer, not many other people dared correct you out loud. All the ass-kissing grew tiresome after a while. Not even Grand Overseer Sternbuck had a bad word to say to me, though the way the skin around his mouth wrinkled when he saw me indicated what he thought. Well, either have the balls to say it, or hide your damn wrinkles, old man.
I crossed the room. The gel-screens adorning every inch of wall space warmed my face, and I would have loved to take off my overseer robes and just sit in jeans and a T-shirt, but it wouldn’t be possible. The men here, and the spectators out there, expected an overseer to look a certain kind of way. I didn’t always like the pomposity of it, but it came with the job.
Three of the four gel-screens showed the Eden map. One was an overall view of what was a pretty beautifully designed map, if I did say so myself, though, of course, I only designed it in broad strokes. The men in this room filled in the details, to give them credit. And another man, one not in this room, had a hell of a lot to do with it, rest his soul.
The other two map-bearing screens showed zoomed-in areas of the battle royale map, whereas a fourth screen streamed line upon line of letters and numbers, broadcast in such a complex code that it would have given the enigma machine a coughing fit. I caught snatches of it here and there; 6i60X12 meant car, for instance. I’d never tried to learn the VBR code, but, just like with chess in school, I found that my brain latched onto things without warning.
I approached the coder and asked why was working on a close-up display of the sand quadrant. When the jingles of my jewelry were loud enough, he turned in his chair to face me. He leaped to his feet, gave a half-bow, straightened up and then gave a full bow. This was the silly custom when an overseer entered the room. It made me want to stick my head down a toilet.
“None of that, Douggie,” I said.
Douggie beamed as if it were a miracle that I’d even remembered his name. Pah. Learn thirty complex chess game plans every week for four years, and you soon develop mnemonic skills, even without those fancy chips that fools buy. Learning a man’s name was nothing, but I did it because I knew it meant a lot to them. Remember a man’s name, and he’ll like you. That was something I’d learned. Since people didn’t seem to respond to me naturally, I had to use these little tricks. I even took the techs for lunch when my schedule allowed it, knowing that lunch with an overseer like me would highlight an otherwise boring week for them.
“Sir, what are you doing out of the-”
I waved my hand. “Don’t worry yourself, Douggie. It’s only a short break. I’ll return soon.”
“I made the changes you asked for,” said Douggie, nodding at the sand dune quadrant.
“They’re almost there, aren’t they?”
He nodded. He was balding on top, and it seemed like all the absent hair had gone to his face to thicken his bulging beard. “Sure as Manchester rain,” he said, in an annoying turn of phrase that I heard from him at least three times a day.
“Douggie, what did we say about the Manchester rain phrase?”
“Don’t say it or you’ll have me sent to Sootstein to shovel snow.”
“And would you say that what you just did was ‘not saying it’. Or was it the opposite? I’m just an overseer, so maybe I’m silly, but it sounded to me like you actually said the phrase that I hate so much.”
“Sorry, Overseer.”
“That’s quite alright. We’re friends here, Douggie. What do you have for me?”
Douggie nodded at the map. “Just Team Perlshaw. No others around, so nobody getting caught in the crossfire.”
I sighed. “Ah well. I do so love crossfire, and the innocent teams getting caught up in it. Not to worry. As long as it gives Harry and his men a hell of a surprise, I’m happy.”
‘Harry’ and ‘happy’: two w
ords I didn’t think I’d ever be saying in the same sentence, and it was only thoughts of his demise that made the union of two such opposite words possible. As much as even saying his name made hatred churn in my stomach, the idea that I was leading him into misery made me feel light and sprightly. I could almost have broken into song, perhaps one from the recent musical I had seen in Eden Apollo Theatre, titled ‘The Ballads of Old Trump.’
Douggie scratched his beard. I tried not to look at the remnant crumbs from his lunch that fell onto his gel-keyboard on the desk. “Can I ask you something, Overseer?” he said.
“I told you, call me Lucas.”
“Okay, Lucas.”
“No…not just Lucas,” I corrected. “Overseer Lucas.”
“Ye-yes, Overseer Lucas. Can I… May I ask you something?”
I nodded. “Sure as Manchester rain,” I said.
