by Cosimo Yap
All right, I will rest, just let me finish this quest, Alan sent.
He reached out to embrace the princess. A message appeared:
Adult content costs an additional 5,000 credits! Pay now and experience your every desire.
With a sigh, Alan shook his head and exited the Arcade. There were millions of games to play and experiences to be had, but most included a price tag. He had thought that the RPG was better, but it seemed as though the fees were simply lying in wait.
Alan could easily see himself getting addicted to a game in the Arcade, or one of the movie-like experiences which you could dictate and change to your liking, but the nagging feeling that nothing was actually happening and nothing was really being accomplished stuck with him. He’d stick to the main Game for now.
***
Waking up, Alan saw that his reconstruction timer was finished. There were eighty-five days left. As soon as he exited the capsule, emerging from Cerberus’s Training Ground in Ænigma, he was barraged with messages from Sidestep and Aurora. You couldn’t receive or send in-game messages while you were respawning.
Aurora: Where are you?
Sidestep: Are you coming? Aurora is starting to pace, never a good sign.
Aurora: Where are you?
Aurora: Word of your assassination reached me. Sorry, but we’ll be replacing you on the team. I’ll update you with any information. The Tyrant is searching the town for whoever broke the peace, but they haven’t turned up anything.
Sidestep: Got 3rd in the tourney. Doubt you could have done anything, we were defeated by a freaking Predecessor in the semifinals; didn’t even realize they went to the Academy, but apparently there’s one in every other class. My speed and Aurora’s ice did nothing—our third, Apollo, did less than you, and you were dead.
Aurora: Kitana achieved fourth with Ace and Thiago, she said you’re familiar with them. The unlikely duo of S and Luna got second—I swear they teamed up just to spite me. The Predecessor, Seeker, won the tournament. I hear that the same assassin that killed you took a shot at S after the tourney, but S managed to evade it; everyone in the assassin’s game was on high alert after you died.
Alan: Thanks for the update. I didn’t notice a Predecessor among our classmates, when did they arrive? And who’s Apollo?
A few minutes later, Aurora replied.
Aurora: They were in one of the previous classes. A new term starts every thirty to thirty-five days; there are generally three batches of combat students in the Academy system at once. If you’re studying at the Institute you’re here for however long your program lasts, but you can’t visit Volta unless you’ve managed some monumental accomplishment. Apollo’s a cousin of mine that was on a randomized team, no one worth remembering.
Alan went to the capsule room on Ænigma, and transported to the Administrative Center on the warrior planet. A guard approached him.
“The Tyrant demands your presence, Alan.”
Following the guard, Alan found the Tyrant standing in the center of the Coliseum, holding a goblet of dark, red liquid the size of Alan’s head. A handful of attendants surrounded the Predecessor, guards holding an assortment of weapons. The Coliseum environment was currently set to a dirt pit.
The Tyrant turned to look down at Alan, and he had to stop himself from taking half a step back. He tried to meet the Predecessor’s gaze as calmly as he could.
“I must apologize for the transgression, I thought my realm safe,” the Tyrant said. “Find whoever besmirched my name and killed you; bring them to justice.”
A quest appeared:
Justice is Served:
Find and kill your assassin. The Tyrant gives you permission to kill the assassin while near the Coliseum; permission to perform violence while in other areas must be sought from the area’s leader.
Partial Reward (for finding the assassin): 1 Warrior Commendation.
Full Reward (for killing the assassin): 3 Warrior Commendations. 3 platinum marks.
“I was under your protection?” Alan asked.
“Yes. This is my domain, my tournament. It is I who required your presence here, but failed to keep you safe. I apologize for this mistake. Here is your armor, fully repaired. The assassin was not so brazen as to strip your corpse. You are free to question anyone here to uncover the identity of your killer.”
“Um, thank you,” Alan said. An assistant brought out his armor that had dropped on death. Alan put it on. The armor made him feel safe and snug.
“You have also missed out on the benefits of the tournament, losing time and levels. How might I be of aid?” the Tyrant asked.
“Actually, is there a sniper trainer that might train me? They could also be helpful in tracking down my killer, especially if there are a limited number of trainers,” Alan said.
“Yes, there is a single sniper trainer, a so-called warrior by the name of Killshot; he may provide a fruitful lead. But I find that ranged weapons are inferior objects, perfect for women and cowards. You should not waste your time studying such drivel. Come, I will train you in true weaponry.” The Tyrant drained the rest of its goblet, tossed it aside, and began looking over the weapons the guards were holding.
“Um, thank you, but that really isn’t necessary,” Alan began. The Tyrant silenced him with a raise of its hand.
“Here, these should do nicely.” Twin laser swords were tossed to Alan, who caught them with Eve’s help. He examined the weapons:
Crimson Blades (Rank B+):
Standard short swords of the Crimson Guard. When activated, the powerful crimson laser field that is the Crimson Guard’s namesake is capable of decimating any shield. With these weapons, the Haxlard elite are a force to be reckoned with, a single unit capable of breaking through any shielded defense. The technology that powers these weapons is a secret to all but the most revered Ultihaxlard craftsmen.
Regular Damage: 150-200. Laser damage: 1,500-2,000.
500 Energy. 5 Energy/sec used while laser is activated, 25 Energy/min regen.
(Bonus Ability: Shield Destruction. Deals 10% of a shield’s total energy in damage no matter how powerful the shield. Only usable when all weapon’s recommended abilities have been met. 250 energy cost.)
200/200 Durability. Energy Melee Weapons (Basic) and Sword Fighting (Basic) required.
Energy Melee Weapons (Intermediate), Energy Efficiency (Intermediate), Enhanced Control (Intermediate), Enhanced Movements (Intermediate), Sword Fighting (Advanced), Crimson Guard Reputation: Friendly recommended.
Damn, Alan sent Eve, Two swings of these swords would kill me. The Revenant Scout Power Armor only has 2,000 energy.
Yes, the armor’s lack of defense is likely what got us one-shot by the sniper. But the stealth capabilities more than make up for it. We should, however, remain stealthed at all times from now on; I originally did not wish to offend anyone’s sensibilities, and thought we would have been able to evade an attack in time.
Alan looked up at the Tyrant. “Thank you for these swords, but I don’t have the abilities to wield them.”
The Tyrant smiled. “And who said I was giving them to you?” It walked over to Alan, towering over him. “All weapons must be earned.”
A massive black two-handed long sword the size of Alan appeared in the Tyrant’s hand, immediately absorbing the surrounding light and red glow of the Crimson Blades. It had a guard with two small spikes jutting out of it, and parrying hooks like a Zweihander sword. It was a soulsteel blade, worth as much as a small fleet of starships.
Alan activated hypercognition.
With a mad gleam in its eye the Tyrant swung at Alan, who narrowly dodged the blow. The sword sliced through the air, and then through the ground of the Coliseum. Alan knew the Predecessor was holding back, or he’d never have been able to react to the blow in time. He weaved through the next series of attacks, trying to back up and get as far away from the Predecessor as he could.
It was hopeless. Each time he took a step back the Predecessor
appeared beside him, swinging its massive sword. The Tyrant roared, “What are you doing? Are you a dog or a warrior? Fight me. Your reach is far less than mine, close the gap.”
Alan swung a blade at the Predecessor. He barely scratched the surface of the Tyrant’s skin.
“Hah! That tickles. When you strike you have to mean it, want it. Where is your ferocity?” The Tyrant raised its sword above its head, telegraphing an obvious overhead swing. Alan darted to the side. The sword swung downward with a massive arc, splitting the earth itself, causing Alan to stumble to the side.
Using hypercognition to plan out his next steps, Alan regained his balance, activated the laser fields of the Crimson Blades, and stabbed forward with all his might, letting out a guttural yell as he did so.
The blades thrust forward, stabbing through the Predecessor, and then stopped about a centimeter later. It felt like hitting a wall. With a backhand swing the Tyrant knocked Alan to the floor, snapping him out of hypercognition mode.
“Eh, good enough.”
Two messages appeared:
Managing to go head-to-head with a fearsome Predecessor, demonstrating sword mastery, you have gained two new abilities, Energy Melee Weapons (Basic) and Sword Fighting (basic).
+10 Agility +25 Strength
I demonstrated sword mastery? Alan thought to himself.
The moves I provided were quite masterful, Eve replied.
“Why am I even here again? I can leave when I want,” a voice called out near the entrance of the arena. Alan looked up to see another Predecessor, taller than him, but only by about a foot and a half. It wore a black suit, a mesh of dark fabric.
The Tyrant looked at it. “Seeker, you and all the other children that come here rely too heavily on your natural gifts. Your performance in the tournament was embarrassing—to be of my blood and so weak…you nearly lost in the semifinals to a group of Ælven.”
“I was playing with them, like you and your games. None of them could have hurt me; it’s not like anyone has a blade of soulsteel lying around.”
Except I do, Alan thought to himself, wondering who this was.
It is one of the Tyrant’s clansmen, of its blood, Eve replied.
Why it, not he or she? How do you know that? Alan asked.
From the Academy’s database, I have learned Predecessors are gender fluid. I gained this information from their conversation—you should pay more attention to people’s words.
They change genders over time?
Yes and no, Eve sent. At the time of mating, the stronger Predecessor is deemed ‘male’ and the weaker ‘female,’ but any Predecessor may play either role. It simply depends on who overpowers whom. They have evolved so that the physical traits of the ‘male’ are more likely to be passed down to the child, while the ‘female’ gives birth and passes down other traits. Predecessors do not think of parents in the traditional sense you do, and instead have blood relatives, traced through a lineage of ‘males.’
Wait, what? No, on second thought, I don’t want to know any more, Alan sent.
“This is not the time to be fooling around, Seeker, I sense a great war brewing,” the Tyrant said.
“Ooooh, look at me, I’m the Tyrant, the great war hero, help me find the scumbag that defiled my sacred ground, the same ground that I can’t leave for another thousand years. There’s always another war; it doesn’t mean you have to fight in them,” Seeker said.
The Tyrant shook its head. “This one is different— I fear that the nature of the Game itself may change.”
Seeker glanced over at Alan. “And this is why you called me here?”
“No, no. I called you here to fight.” The Tyrant smiled.
“Who? Him?” Seeker pointed at Alan. “I doubt that it would be much of a battle.”
“Yes, well, Alan here was supposed to have been part of the Ælven team that almost defeated you. I think they may have even beaten you with his help.”
“What? A human? They’re even weaker than the Ælves, though their comedy is mildly entertaining. You should watch the stunts they play, almost dying, risking actual death for a few credits. They’re heretics, one and all.” Seeker stared at Alan, who stared back. “He does have a certain presence. It’s faint, but there.”
“Yes, if I’m not mistaken, he is now of an ancient blood I have not felt in many years. Don’t worry though, Alan, I won’t pick your brain apart. Yet.”
“Instead, let us play a game. Seeker, if you can disarm Alan before he slices you with either of his blades, I will give you a sliver of soulsteel. Alan, if you manage to even nick Seeker before they disarm you, I will allow you to keep the Crimson Blades.”
Seeker lunged at Alan, almost reaching him before he managed to activate hypercognition. Alan barely managed to turn the blade in Seeker’s direction. Seeker grabbed Alan’s arm before the blade hit him.
Seeker began putting pulling on Alan’s arm when the Tyrant said, “Stop. You have lost.”
“What?” Seeker exclaimed. Seeker looked down and saw a tiny tear in its suit. Alan had activated the laser field and tossed his other blade forward, enough to cause the small tear.
“If you had simply snatched the blades out of his hand instead of trying to literally disarm him, you would have succeeded,” the Tyrant said. “No matter, I would have given you a miniscule sliver of soulsteel.”
Seeker rolled its eyes. “I’ll be in the Arcade.”
“No, you require greater training, discipline!” the Tyrant said.
Seeker exited the arena.
The Tyrant sighed, looking at Alan. “Teenagers, what can you do? You’d think years of genetic enhancement would fix that, but no, it’s an important part of the developmental process…On to other matters—whose presence do I detect?”
Does the Academy have anything on what Predecessors are able to detect? Is this a test, or a simple probe? Should I tell the truth? Alan asked Eve.
I am unsure of the answer to all these questions; I do not know the standing of the Lord of the Abyss. They were imprisoned, but it seems as though the Tyrant is also a prisoner of some sort.
Well you’re of surprisingly little help, Alan sent.
I was not designed for social communication, Eve fired back.
“What do you know of the Abyss Labyrinth?” Alan finally asked. The Tyrant had been helpful enough, and would likely be able to detect any lie he told.
“That would explain it,” the Tyrant said. “It seems I owe you yet another debt—this is a useful piece of information. It is about that time.”
“About what time?” Alan asked.
“Nothing, nothing. It is of little concern to you, this is but one small piece of the puzzle, of the war that is to come. You may play a larger role than I thought. Is there something else I might help you with?”
Alan thought for a second, then said, “Can you teach me how to hide my presence?”
“Ah, now that is quite the demand. I, however, might not be the best teacher. Return to me after you have found your assassin, or a month has passed, and I will have arranged for a proper tutor. Now go, another tournament is about to start.”
Alan left the arena, determined to hunt his killer down.
Chapter 9
All of the Tyrant’s leads were dead ends. The guards had seen nothing, the site of attack had nothing, and the instructor knew nothing. Frustrated, Alan flicked through his quest log.
There are two events which require our immediate attention, Eve sent.
And they are?
Returning to Null Point Station—we are three days overdue on fixing the flight simulators—and contacting Celeste. She likely is one of the primary information gatherers within the Academy and she may have information about our assassin or may also be able to train us in areas we are lacking.
Right, the virus clearing quest. I almost forgot about that, Alan sent.
He hurried over to the nearest Administrative Center and transported to Null Point Station, using his seco
nd teleportation of the day. He’d only be given one more.
“Halt. State your business,” the waiting guard said as Alan arrived. He was wearing the same lightweight power armor and jetpack.
“I’m here to fix a glitch in the flight simulators.”
The guard paused, looking over a message log that appeared before him.
“You are Alan?” the guard asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“You are three days overdue. Due to your negligence, the virus spread and outside help was sought. You are hereby banned from Null Point Station for a period of 30 days. Please depart immediately,” the guard said.
“Wait, what? I know I was late, but there were circumstances beyond my control. I had to go get the upgrades needed to deal with the problem, which took a week in and of itself, and then I was assassinated by another player!” Alan said.
“You agreed to a contract and failed to abide by it.” The guard paused, reading a message that he had received. “Cobalt-1-7 says that it is only out of his respect for Cerberus that you have not been permanently banned from the station; you should have sent word when you realized there were complications. Now, I am asking you to leave.” The guard raised his weapon, pointing it at Alan.
“Okay, take it easy,” Alan said. He teleported to the Institute and went to Celeste’s classroom, determined to make a good impression.
He paused in front of the door, hearing nothing within. The door’s window was gone. He knocked.
“Come in,” Celeste said. The room’s setup was changed, now an office instead of a classroom. Celeste was sitting behind an ornate, wooden desk. Various trinkets, paintings, and sculptures filled the room, representing some cultural significance Alan knew nothing about.
