Evolution

by Travis Bagwell

  “Let’s just hope my Bone Crafting skill is high enough,” he murmured to himself as he dug into his pack. He pulled out the small satchel of fire crystals and his eyes turned to his drones.

  With a quick mental command, the miniature skeletons were lifted in the air, forming neat rows in front of Jason. He started with a single drone, placing the fire crystal under its torso and attaching it with small tendrils of dark mana. When the crystal stayed put, he moved on to the next minion, working his way quickly down each row.

  He had decided that he needed to place the crystals on each creature’s stomach. Cecil’s little demonstration in the Twilight Throne had made it clear that the fire crystals would ignite when they were broken. He hoped that the drones could latch onto the Packrat and then clamp down with their spindly legs to crush the crystals.

  At least, that was the plan.

  Several minutes later, Jason had completed his ministrations and settled his drones back on the floor. His minions now glowed an ominous red and orange, the only sign that an explosive payload was now strapped to their stomachs.

  Jason’s gaze shifted back to Frank and the Packrat, who were still engaged in their slow-motion dance. A knot twisted in his stomach as he watched the way the monstrous creature crashed through the room and the way its tail whipped through the air. He might have created new explosive minions, but how the hell was he going to get them close enough to do any damage? His drones were rather fragile.

  Two ivory discs still spun around Jason – a relic from a previous battle in the Hippie’s maze. The shields might offer a delivery system…

  Before he could stop himself, Jason cast a frantic glance at Alfred where he stood watching the battle impassively nearby. “That restriction on using the bone shields as stairs doesn’t apply to other stuff, right?”

  The AI stared back at him for a long moment as the battle raged in front of them. Then he responded languidly, “I haven’t placed any other restrictions on the shields. Whether your plan will work is another question entirely. The probability of success is quite low.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jason muttered.

  His gaze shifted back to the battle unfolding in the room. Dark mana was already collecting along Riley’s arrow as she readied her attack, tendrils of red energy leeching through the dark miasma and signaling that she was channeling her own health into the missile. There wasn’t time to second-guess himself. He was just going to have to gamble. Again.

  God, I hope this works.

  Closing his eyes, Jason slammed his palm down on the summoning console. The spell abruptly ended, but he was already giving mental commands to both his drones and his bone shields. The discs immediately lowered themselves to the ground, and his minions began piling onto the two shields – which were now acting as makeshift platforms.

  There was only one problem with his plan. The range on his bone discs was somewhat limited. He would need to get in close – really close.

  Jason suddenly opened his eyes, his irises glowing with unholy energy. Mana surged through his veins in a frigid river and tattoos of black energy peeled away from his skin and lashed at the air around him as he considered what he was about to do next. Maybe Frank was right. Maybe he really was crazy.

  Then Jason darted forward, the bone discs hovering near him. The Packrat immediately saw him coming, and it lashed its tail through the air toward Jason. Frank noticed Jason’s headlong charge, his eyes widening in surprise. With a howl and a surge of energy, the barbarian launched himself forward on his wolf-like legs, the blades of his axes barely intercepting the Packrat’s tail and throwing off a shower of sparks.

  Jason rolled underneath the tail, sending a frantic order to his bone shields to move out of the path of the attack. One shield moved too slowly, and the Packrat’s tail glanced against the platform. The blow immediately crushed some of the drones onboard and created a chain explosion. A massive blast of orange flames rocked the room, and the creature’s tail was blown apart, shrapnel spraying in every direction.

  A piece of scrap metal promptly embedded itself in Jason’s shoulder, throwing him off course. He landed on the stone floor with a grunt, his vision swimming and blood streaming down his armor. Notifications appeared in his peripheral vision – likely informing him that his already low health was redlining. Yet he ignored the notices and forced himself back to his feet, continuing toward the creature at a ragged jog.

  The Packrat’s body towered over him, its malevolent black eyes focused on Jason’s haggard, beaten form. With its tail destroyed and already beginning to slowly repair itself, the creature moved to lunge forward and finish Jason with its razor-sharp teeth.

  Jason couldn’t help but smile as he watched the creature’s maw widen and the massive foot-long fangs racing toward him. “Fuck you,” he whispered as blood bubbled on his lips.

  Then he gave a final mental order.

  His remaining disc was already hovering next to the Packrat’s torso, and his drones skittered off the platform, taking up positions along the side of its chest. At Jason’s order, the tiny undead minions simultaneously clenched their legs, slamming their torsos against the Packrat’s metallic, undulating body.

  With a roar of sound and a whirlwind of flame, the fire crystals fractured and erupted. Jason was thrown across the room by the blast, his back slamming against a stone wall. He groaned in pain and managed to look up one last time. The explosion had torn a massive hole in the side of the Packrat’s body, the boiling mass of scrap metal already trying to spread to close the wound. Yet Jason could make out a single floating crystal shining brightly with a mixture of sapphire and obsidian energy in the center of the cavity.

  Riley chose that moment to release her arrow. A massive ball of energy ripped through the room, sucking in the eerie blue light cast by the torches along the walls like a miniature black hole. The Fury had channeled so much of her own health into her Void Arrow that tendrils of energy lanced away from the bolt, ripping and tearing at the ground and walls around it and throwing up fragments of stone and dust.

  As Jason’s vision began to waver and darken, the ball of energy struck the crystal embedded in the Packrat dead center. Obsidian energy rippled out from the impact in an expanding wave, obliterating the creature’s body and disintegrating the piles of metallic junk. As the Packrat was torn apart, it released a final, piercing cry that shook the room and reverberated off the walls.

  Jason’s health finally reached zero.

  System Message

  You have died.

  Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

  Chapter 22 - Revelatory

  “Sir,” Caerus said to get Alexion’s attention. “The Confessors are ready. Are you prepared to launch the attack?” Alexion recognized that the noble looked uneasy. The muscles around his eyes were tense, and his hand rested on the sword sheathed at his waist.

  “Of course, he’s ready,” Gracien grumbled from nearby. “We’ve been standing in this gods-forsaken forest for over an hour waiting on your ‘preparations.’ Just attack the damn town already!”

  Caerus ignored the fire guild master’s grumbling, turning an inquiring gaze back to Alexion. Say what you want about the game’s NPCs, but Alexion had found them to be infinitely more reliable and loyal to his cause than the players. “I believe we’re ready,” Alexion said quietly. “Begin the attack.” At that order, Caerus jogged off to alert the Confessors hidden along the tree line south of the town.

  Alexion and Gracien stood on a hilltop overlooking Sibald. A pall of darkness hung over them, evidence that they were standing within the radius of the Twilight Throne’s influence. All of their troops were now afflicted with a debuff that lowered their damage, but Alexion suspected it would make little difference. Unarmed townspeople would put up little resistance against his flame-wielding zealots.

  “I don’t understand the need for all this planning,” Gracien grumbled, his eyes on the town below them. “Why don’t we just torch t
he damn thing from a distance and take a few undead corpses?”

  Alexion tamped down on his irritation. Gracien was a brute, but he was also useful. “We do not want to alert Jason to our presence, and we do not want anyone to tie the destruction of the village to the remainder of our plans,” he explained as patiently as he could. “If we aren’t careful, a few witnesses could escape.”

  Gracien moved to respond, but Alexion gestured at the village. “A moment. The battle is about to commence.”

  Even as Alexion spoke, he could make out the line of white-robed figures sprinting toward the village. He knew that a similar force was stationed on the roads leading out of town and along the northern tree line. They couldn’t afford to let anyone escape or reveal who had participated in the attack.

  As the first of the Confessors reached the edge of town, flames erupted along their hands. Fire spewed forth, casting the area in a bright orange glow, and quickly consuming the wood and thatch buildings that made up Sibald. A moment later, shouts erupted from the center of town signaling that the townsfolk were aware of the fires.

  The Confessors continued to dart forth, their flames purifying the heathens that lived in this small village. Screams of fear and desperation filled the night air.

  Alexion’s brow furrowed as he caught sight of bolts of obsidian energy that slammed against the forms of his Confessors. The dark mana ate through their clothing and flesh, their regeneration abilities barely able to keep pace with the malignant energy.

  Caerus came racing back up the hill at a sprint. “A contingent of undead from the Twilight Throne appears to be stationed in town. This was not caught during our scouting expeditions. What do you want us to do?”

  Alexion suppressed his rage as best he could. He would demand a pound of flesh for this mistake later, but, for now, he needed to act quickly. Several of his Confessors were already on the ground, their bodies broken and bloodied. They might eventually overwhelm Jason’s troops, but the casualties would be unacceptable.

  “Order the nephilim to reinforce the Confessors,” Alexion commanded. “The plan is the same. We burn the town to the ground, and we leave no survivors.”

  “Yes, sir,” Caerus nodded, then began shouting to the men and women hidden in the trees. Immediately the nephilim, spears held at the ready, dropped to the ground with a gust of wind and a spray of dust before racing toward the village.

  “Finally, a little fighting,” Gracien barked with a laugh. He stretched the muscles of his back and shoulders while channeling his fire mana. His eyes glowed a brilliant crimson and flames curled around his staff. “I may as well have some fun,” he murmured.

  “Just leave enough bodies intact for the next stage of our plan,” Alexion cautioned, watching the fire mage nervously as flames began to whip and spin around his body.

  A manic grin curled Gracien’s lips. “I know the goal… but we don’t need all of them.”

  With that statement, a barrage of flames erupted from the fire mage’s staff and raced into the air above the town. An enormous molten ball of energy swiftly began to form, illuminating the town and the battle that raged along the streets. As it reached the size of a house, the ball of mana suddenly expanded, and a rain of fire cascaded down upon the town.

  As the screams of the townsfolk and undead rang through the air, Alexion noticed the gleam in Gracien’s eyes. Perhaps he had underestimated the mage. He could be incredibly useful.

  ***

  Motes of blue energy rained down around Jason like ethereal snowflakes. With a groan, he realized he was standing inside the game’s deathscape. The recent battle was playing out again in front of him, but this time the crash of metal sounded muted and surreal.

  Jason looked on impassively as he watched himself walk through the same familiar steps of the fight. Frank’s burly form was hurled into a wall. Riley barely dodged the Packrat’s tail whip. Eliza’s healing mist drifted through the room. Then Jason began his fateful sprint toward the creature, his bone shields loaded with glowing, crimson Drones. Even now, as he watched the battle unfold calmly, he wasn’t certain how he could have improved on his harebrained plan.

  Or what the hell I’m going to do next, he thought with a grimace.

  He was now completely out of minions, and he hadn’t exactly designed his class to fare well in combat. Sure, he had let Riley drain his health before his last mad dash toward the Packrat, but that last battle had still driven home that he was only able to survive for a grand total of ten seconds in a straight fight. Maybe fifteen seconds with full health…

  How were they going to handle the next boss? Or the next group of creatures? Of course, those questions assumed he could even get back through the Hippie’s irritating maze of rooms and regroup with his teammates.

  At that thought, Jason felt a hollow weight settle in his stomach. He abruptly stood and began pacing the room, the occasional crash and scrape of metal from the battle causing him to flinch. All of the events over the last few days felt like they were pressing down on him. The sensation was smothering – like he was drowning in the weight of his own problems.

  As though on cue, the game world suddenly began to stutter and jerk erratically. “Oh, fucking fantastic…” Jason muttered as the room disappeared and another vision claimed him.

  He was suddenly standing in the courtyard outside of the temple. The clan of lizardmen was nowhere to be seen, and the temple’s stones were in much better repair – previously crumbling blocks now solid and detailed scrollwork tracing their surface. Bright sunlight shone down on the rough-hewn rock that riddled the ground.

  Jason’s body limped forward of its own volition, controlled by another person. As he trailed behind Noah, his hand clutched at his stomach where the former dull ache had now blossomed into a piercing pain. He forced himself to keep shuffling along with awkward, pain-filled steps. He knew he didn’t have much time left. He just hoped it would be long enough to fulfill his duty.

  As though reading his mind, Noah chose that moment to turn back to him. “Finally! We are nearly there, Father. We just…” His son trailed off as he took in what Jason could only assume was his haggard appearance.

  Jason tried his best to stand up straighter, and he snatched his hand from beneath his cloak. He wasn’t quick enough.

  “Are you okay?” Noah asked in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Before Jason could stop him, Noah had stepped back to him and thrown aside his cloak, revealing the gash in his side. Black blood still trickled from the wound, staining his shirt and pants. “Oh, gods,” Noah muttered, his expression warring between terror and anger. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?”

  “Would that have changed our course at this point?” Jason asked, his voice sounding aged and dry to his own ears. “We don’t have much time left, and we need to keep moving.”

  “At least let me help you,” his son replied, visibly swallowing his anger and fear before draping Jason’s arm over his shoulder. Jason leaned gratefully against Noah, putting some of his weight on his son.

  With Noah’s help, the pair made better progress and managed to make it to the temple’s entrance in just a few minutes. In contrast to the wreckage that Jason had witnessed before, debris no longer obscured the temple’s entrance, and stairs descended down into the gloom.

  “There they are!” a voice cried from behind them.

  The pair whirled, and Jason lost his balance for a moment, stumbling and leaning heavily against the stone wall as his son drew his sword and readied himself for an attack. Nearly a dozen humans robed in polished leather armor suddenly teleported into the courtyard, moving in erratic patterns and creating small flashes of light as they used some sort of short-ranged teleport. They would be upon Jason and Noah within minutes.

  “Skywardens,” Noah muttered. “The humans must have sent them as advance scouts.”

  Jason managed a nod. “I will handle this,” he said to his son. “Prepare to cave in the entrance. That will buy us so
me time and force them to circle the island to enter through the grotto.”

  “Are you sure…?” his son began.

  “Move. Now,” Jason said more forcefully.

  His son’s expression was still conflicted, but he gave a curt nod and sheathed his blade before reaching into his pack and pulling out a metal stylus. He began drawing a complicated pattern of runes along the side of the stairwell, the images glowing an angry red where the instrument touched the stone wall.

  Jason stepped forward so that his son was behind him in the stairwell. Then he began to channel his dark mana. The sensation that swept over Jason was unlike anything he had experienced before. When the Keeper called to the Dark One, the god responded with a flood of power. Mana raced through his veins in a tidal wave of energy. Jason felt rejuvenated, the pain in his stomach retreating. A globe of obsidian mana appeared around him, solid tendrils branching off from the sphere and lashing at the approaching humans hungrily.

  “Miasma,” Jason murmured. Even his whisper echoed with power.

  The globe suddenly expanded, a wall of dark energy sweeping through the courtyard. The Skywardens’ eyes widened in surprise as they caught sight of the wave of destruction approaching. The lead human was too slow to teleport away, the dark energy enveloping him before he could react. His flesh began to boil and slough off his body in waves, his face twisting in anguish but no sound managing to escape his lips.

  The other scouts tried desperately to dodge or teleport up to the wall ringing the courtyard. The swell of dark energy, however, was like a living thing, and it followed them, tentacles of darkness emerging from the crest of the wave. A tendril wrapped around one man’s foot, pulling the screaming human into the depths of the tidal wave. Yet several of the scouts still managed to make it to the wall, the group now in full retreat.