Devil's Waltz

by Dante Sakurai

  "Says the creep." Bitchy again.

  "I’ll be as creepy as I want." Rowan spanked Gabrielle once to show it.

  "Oh, master!" she yelped, playing along. "Please don’t get the shock-collar out again! I’m a good girl, I promise!" Hearing her say that in such a luscious way was desert for the ears even if she was just being coy.

  Ayla scoffed. "I thought you were lying about the—"

  "Juuust kidding!" Gabrielle sang. "The shock-collar stuff sure bothers ya, huh?"

  "It’s fucked-up. Makes me want to strangle him." Something about her tone was slightly off.

  Gabrielle’s face blanked for a moment. "Hmmmmm. Is that so…" she trailed off, lost in whatever quirky thought her unique mind conjured.

  Rowan let her muse and tried a last time: "So how about it? Another Witch Doctor would really help us out here. My World Boss stat multiplier makes me worth ten Necromancers."

  Ayla wouldn’t relent. Her head slowly shook. "Either Necro or Death Knight, and I’d prefer Necro."

  "Damn." This meant she would be taking a portion of future Necromancer drops. Not a good prospect at all. “I don’t really want to share—”

  “I’m a high-level Tailor. I can craft up to mythical rarity robes for any class, legendary if I have the recipes. I just need the materials.”

  Another rectangle appeared.

  Tailor: Level 209

  “How convenient.” It was as though everything he needed appeared on a squirrelly platter, almost too good to be true. If only she weren’t so bitchy, but she was calmer now. Rowan flicked Gabrielle a message while she was still lost in thought.

  Rowan Black (To Gabby LeMort): This sounds too good. Do you think she’s pulling something?

  A reply came after five seconds, and Ayla exhaled, irritated.

  Gabby LeMort: No.

  Rowan Black: How do you know?

  Gabby LeMort: My intuition is squeaking with delight! ^_^

  Unhelpful. Rowan asked, “What made you turn on them?”

  Ayla inhaled a long breath and shook her head. "I’ve had enough. The light players are suffocating to be around. Though they don’t admit it, they expect you to act in a certain way which aligns with their collective ideals and believe in their preachy, feel-good, selfless bullshit. For them, even in this game world, there is a right and wrong way to behave, and if you are in the wrong, they hypocritically and viciously attack you. It’s like an ever-persistent, self-enforced daycare prison. They say to just be yourself, but they really mean the opposite. Am I wrong?"

  "Nope! Not wrong." Gabrielle gave a thumbs-up. "They’re like monkeys, the lot of em!"

  The impassioned rant deeply resonated with Rowan. "Yeah. I get you."

  Ayla smirked for once. “And you should know they have a World Boss now. He’s not suited for the role at all. He’s more of a follower rather than a leader. You should’ve seen him back at the humans’ capital. I wanted to tell him to fuck off and jump off a castle, but you know how they would’ve reacted if I said that.”

  Not good news. If one had already gotten a Path of Tribulation… then dozens more probably had as well.

  Gabrielle said, a pinky raised, “What’s his name?”

  “Jonathan Bladestrider.”

  The first name clicked for Rowan. “The low-level, classless guy in the naval battle?”

  “The same. Dragon Initiate, hidden for some reason. He’s waiting for his bonded Dragon Stone to hatch. His levels and class was reset too. Something stupid about needing to be reborn and his burden to bare.”

  “Uhhh.” Gabrielle laughed awkwardly. “Kay. That makes sense.”

  It did not make any sense whatsoever. Rowan asked, “Got any proof of that?”

  Ayla met his gaze straight-on. “Only my word… but I can offer something else.” She reached into a dragonscale pouch at her hip, then pulled out a basket of gold objects. “Do any of you need these? It was in the guild storage. It’s yours if you agree to my terms.”

  Rowan examined, taking in their bizarre bird-like appearances. He swore he had seen something similar before.

  Gold Jungle Idol (8)

  A menacing idol molded from twenty-four-carat gold, radiating dark mana.

  Gabrielle perked straight, smiling brightly. "Yup! I need em for my Invulnerability Totems. Give me!"

  Ah, that was it. It had been a while. "Those would actually be really good," Rowan said, already making adjustments to the plan.

  "Do we have an agreement?" Ayla’s fiery eyebrow rose.

  "Yup." Gabrielle extended her needy hands.

  "Yeah," Rowan mumbled, not as outwardly trusting. "Betray us and I really will put a shocking collar on you." A grim smirk warped his lips. "Not Insane told me he wants a girlfriend."

  "Don’t try it, creep." Ayla handed over the basket.

  Gabrielle matched his smirk with a kinder smile. "Welcome to the family! You make number seven." She nudged Rowan’s ribs with her elbow. “My future guild’s growing.”

  Ayla snorted. "Fascinating. Should I leave Dorian’s guild—"

  Rowan asked, "Do they know you came here?"

  "No."

  "Then keep it as a surprise."

  She shrugged. "Alright. I like playing cloak and dagger."

  Gabrielle said, "A jolly surprise! But first things first, I need ya to help gather poison mushrooms. I need about a thousand of either the light-blue or fuzzy red ones."

  Rowan frowned. "I thought you said a hundred."

  "Oopsies. My bad." She patted his arm. "Better get on it."

  "Fine," Ayla said, and Rowan grumbled.

  The trio fanned out from the frozen section of the swamp, hastily grabbing them wherever they spawned, and due to the thick magic in the air and earth, they spawned often. Rowan camped out a lucky spot at the bend of a river in between three elder willows, mushrooms spawning in sprinkles of sparkling dark mana every twenty to forty seconds after each harvest. Interesting. The world’s ambient magic worked in a way to keep things in constant harmony.

  The chatbox shook when he was at number two-hundred-and-seventy-four.

  Gabby LeMort (To Rowan Black): I just figured out the perfect distraction.

  Rowan Black: Yeah?

  In a flurry of messages, Gabrielle told Rowan of the most diabolical distraction, a strategy only a darkie would think of deploying against those righteous fools. A plan that would perfectly tie up a few loose ends. The only hitch was that their underwater dungeon-diving trip would have to be canceled due to time constraints—and that he had to temporarily part ways from her.

  Damn. He had grown a bit too attached to her for his own good. Oh well. She was now his world whether he liked it or not.

  And Ayla was going to be a Death Knight instead whether she preferred it or not; she had apparently snagged a case of keystones as well. Tanks were need here as much as supports. Tanks and supports—always in demand in any online RPG.

  Chapter 28

  Delicious Peaches

  Rowan’s discussion with Gabrielle on the plan came to a close, every important detail hammered out. It was time to let Ayla know the role she was going to play. He did so with a short paragraph. Her replies dinged into the bottom of the chatbox.

  Ayla Frost (To Rowan Black and Gabby LeMort): Fine. I’ll be a Death Knight if you supply me with No-Pain Draughts.

  Ayla Frost: And are you sure? That plan is crazy.

  She was more cordial than he’d expected, a tad more restrained than her usual hot-headedness. Rowan had been ready for something stronger… and violent.

  Gabby LeMort: Yup.

  Ayla Frost: Would Synaptic take action for something like this?

  Gabby LeMort: Nope!

  Ayla Frost: How do you know?

  Gabby LeMort: It’s just a little lying ^_^

  There was an eleven-second pause.

  Ayla Frost: Fine. I don’t care if I get banned. I was close to quitting this game anyway.

  Gabby LeMort: Awww… dun’ be lik
e that…

  The chatbox silenced.

  So what if the squirrel jumps off a cliff, Rowan thought sourly. He picked shrooms and stared into the blazing skies streaked with indigo mana.

  It didn’t take much time, thirty minutes, to gather the remainder of the needed thousand—a mindless though strangely meditative task. He could see the appeal of the many crafting professions. Mindless repetitive but rewarding work. He then journeyed back toward the tied island with the girls, enduring Gabrielle’s silly chatter about some creepy Necromancer obsessing over her.

  And when she tired of that, she looked at Ayla with a ridiculous grin. "So do ya have a boy friend yet? It might cheer ya up!"

  A nose twitched.

  "I’m pretty sure Edward’s single… I think he mentioned way back he likes redheads."

  Lips pinched.

  "Want a cookie? They’re delicious…"

  The squirrel looked away, wouldn’t budge from her shitty high-branch, Gabrielle’s attempt at banter falling short. Maybe it was Ayla’s time of the month, Rowan wordlessly considered. Or maybe she still wanted an apology.

  Either way didn’t matter; Rowan only prayed to the gods that Gabrielle wasn’t as moody during her monthly bleed—

  He mentally flayed himself, his brain still stuck in the swamp. Combined with the heavy ambient dark mana, that place negatively stirred his own inner climate. Not even sinking into the gentle chill of his ever-trusty amulet at his heart helped.

  They stepped into the misty, two-thirds demolished town, brownish-gray dirt and gravel crunching under Rowan’s boots. While Ayla and the others exchanged… warm greetings, in front of the three-peak spire, four rows of meter-high cauldrons were bubbling with a spectrum of green and blue hues. Gabrielle dumped handfuls of mushrooms into each, her wand fluttering as she went. Worker Dolls helped her stir. A lovely sight.

  “Where’s Not Insane?” Ayla asked no one in particular. “And what’s all this poison for?”

  “You’ll see,” Rowan said. There was still a very real possibility that she was here as a spy or saboteur. She couldn’t be let in on all the details. Gabrielle was too trusting even if they had some previous history together. Maybe she had a contingency plan like always.

  The only Dark Human adult male, Gregory, said, “I believe he and Lord Black had a duel in his pocket dimension yesterday. His ulti—”

  Ayla’s fingers waved. “I know his skills. He won’t be back until his respawn timer’s up.”

  Gabrielle said, “Yup. Won’t be back for another in-game day.”

  Five hours in the real world. Rowan asked, “Which region is he from?”

  “Eastern Siberia,” Edward muttered.

  No wonder. The people there had a bit of an abrasive reputation according to Internet sleuths. “And you?”

  “East Asia. SoSo lives with me.”

  “I’m from western Europe,” Ayla said with a touch of surliness.

  Ambiguous muttered, “And I’m from North America like Rowan and Gabby.”

  A good split. The twins—and Not Insane as long if he was planning to cooperate—could take the night shift while Ayla would slip in sometime between. If only one of them were also a World Boss… but that’d be moot after Zaine’s rebirthing.

  Gregory’s wife, named Amelia revealed by an Examine dialogue, stepped forward. “What are you talking about?” The children and two teens nodded along, murmured similar questions.

  “They’re locations in the divine realm,” Ayla said. “It’s a very big place.”

  “I see.” Amelia was smart to not push additional queries. It’d be a tiresome conversation, and they knew.

  Rowan cleared his throat. “How long till the poison is done?”

  “An hour,” Gabrielle called from the back row of cauldrons, puffing from one to the next.

  “Then we don’t have long. Get ready for battle. You know your roles.” They gave a round of varying affirmations, then departed into Ambiguous’ pocket dimension for market access; including the Dark Humans. They needed some gear for the trip.

  Rowan looked at Ayla, holding her back with a hand on her elbow. “I need a mythical robe top and bottom. Can you make hats too?”

  She nodded. “All three will cost you five hundred and ninety credits or the equivalent gold.”

  "Is that price right?" he asked the others.

  Ambiguous glanced at him. “More or less.” Her eyes glowed indigo, and her body warped through a space-time wormhole.

  The price was nothing he couldn’t afford with his leftover four-thousand credits. “That’s fair. I’ll pay.” He offered Ayla a trade. The window opened, and he presented the credits, then hit cancel without accepting. “You’ll get the credits after.”

  Ayla’s brows rose, surprised. “Fine.” She sure liked that word as well. With comical speed and cartoonish graphical effects, she unloaded a fancy workstation from her pouch, the thing enlarging. Silver bells and whistles twinkled with gray mana. Rolls of fabric and gem containers followed. “At least you’re not broke. I bet Gabby gets presents in the mail all the time.”

  “Maybe.” Little did she know he was broke as any other highschool graduate. Rowan had to bite on both cheeks to not grin like a dummy, watching the dexterous girl work with genuine interest.

  Over time, Ayla’s chants grew increasingly complex, the fabric cutting and stitching itself. The outline of a robe top took shape.

  Fiery waist-length hair fluttered in the gentle breeze, and Rowan caught a whiff of her weak perfume. Delicious Peach. He could breathe her scent all night. Her squirrel face was, in fact, highly attractive when there wasn’t a constant bitchy weight pulling it down. Her sheer resolve was admirable too—very brave. Perhaps in another life he would’ve grown to pine over her, but he’d already given himself to Gabrielle. He was irrevocably hers for a long, long time to come.

  Gabrielle who was sneakingly keeping an eye on him from the cauldrons. A territorial one she was.

  A beep.

  Gabby LeMort (To Rowan Black): I remember when ya looked at me like that back at the Dark Temple… :(

  His reply was long ready.

  Rowan Black: She’s pretty and hot-headed, but she’s not the girl I love. You are.

  Nearly dropping mushrooms, she froze like a deer and stared at him intensely. Her recovery was slow to set in, mushrooms plopping into the cauldrons once more. Another beep.

  Gabby LeMort: Do you or your genitals love me?

  An interesting question.

  Rowan Black: I guess both.

  Gabby LeMort: Hehehe… Ya might be right, if ya fear losing me above all. We’ll see if the grouch really did fall for his fucktoy.

  Her reciprocate declaration never came. An unfounded ache dug into Rowan’s chest, but it wasn’t a pain worth fussing over. He wandered off into the mist and just breathed. In and out. Through the nose. He was no mouth breather. In and out. His boots left footprints on the damp ground.

  To pass time, he settled on drawing up some more-creative minion designs. That pigeon’s use was up. How it had lasted so long was unbeknown to him.

  Minutes leaked by, and his Rime Blinks had apparently taken him to the jail—where the Draconian king was held in deep slumber.

  Cecelia, the female Nihil, lounging on the front steps and reading a book, looked up and said, “Do you need something?”

  Do I?

  Rowan shrugged. “Nothing.” He kept wandering, focusing on the rotating hologram in front of his eyes.

  So what if she didn’t say it back. And if she never does, there was plenty of time to show exactly how much his genitals loved her.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, Rowan hit the finalize button, saving a last design into the minion library. He had built up an unstoppable momentum and pieced together design after design, each sporting a bone and ice variant.

  Selecting the best of the lot, Rowan tossed a bone marshmallow high into the air, pointed with Anton’s wand, and invoked Constr
uct Minion without a word; the skill didn’t ask for an incantation at tier five. The bone detonated with ice and mist. Two pairs of wings and a four-yard long insectoid body zipped forth and circled Rowan once at the speed of Gabrielle’s broom, buzzing not too loudly. The Dragonfly’s wings and light body allowed for far greater speed and maneuverability at the cost of health and mana. Like many other skills, T7 Winged Flight had many hidden mechanics and intricacies.