by Rick Scar
After three weeks, both clan leaders were considering the idea of opening the location for the top-ten clans with the intent of charging them an entrance fee. A quite high one at that. And even if someone managed to complete the challenge, at least they would’ve made a profit.
But yesterday, when Son of Hercules and Gloomy Hangman were finalizing the contract, things went downhill.
“Boss! Boss! Here! There! I—!” one of the Messengers yelled, running into the mansion. He knew that Son of Hercules had closed his inbox for the duration of the meeting.
“Chris! Are you nuts?” He stared at the player. “I’ve told everyone not to disturb us.”
“Wait. Let’s hear him out.” Hangman raised his hand to show he wasn’t upset by this intrusion. “His eyes are about to pop out. What’s up?”
“The door! The door! It’s—”
“Chris,” Son of Hercules hissed, “get your shit together.”
“The door’s disappearing!” he finally blurted out. Seeing the look on his boss’s face, he took an instinctive step back.
***
If only Raven knew that he was interfering with someone’s quest. But he didn’t. So he continued to hit the door in his effort to rid the hallway of all of them.
As the players on another Floor were guessing the cause of the doors’ disappearance, Raven was doing what he believed could bring him closer to his goal. The lilac door made of flower petals crumbled under his hit, giving place to a door made of something that looked like soap bubbles. His sword and dagger, like industrial robots, did their job on this one as well.
Hours passed as he continued to destroy the doors. On the next day, he felt that the end was close. His wish to reach it as fast as possible was barely any help in his fight against boredom that had set in during these long days. Still, even in the moments when he was about to lose heart, when common sense began to insist on taking a break, he kept attacking out of pure stubbornness.
Attack. Attack. Attack.
All the new doors had slowly begun to merge into a single, indiscernible whole. Their color, shape, material, and smell had stopped mattering after the first two hours. He struck again and again, like a machine.
The last door.
Tired, he leaned against the opposite wall and stared at the door surrounded by the blinding whiteness. As he slid his gaze to the side, he could only see a blur. The distance no longer mattered. There was nothing but a sea of white as far as the eye could see, and a single door among it, inconspicuous but oh-so-familiar. A regular door like the kind you could see in any apartment block.
It was seven in the evening. Raven took a step toward the door and reached for its handle when a sudden voice came: “Stop the bastard!”
Before he knew what was going on, a crossbow bolt exploded right in front of him, destroying the door he had been reaching for.
“What the…?” He stopped with his arm in the air, staring at where the door had just been. “I… What the hell?!” He looked to the right, where the voice had come from, and saw a vaguely familiar figure accompanied by seven other. “Which of you fucking idiots shot it?”
As he turned to face the group, he activated Identification and read the players’ names with astonishment. One of them was the leader of the Faceless Army. As he tried to figure out how they had come to be here, a weird sound came from behind him – and stopped instantly.
Gloomy Hangman ignored his question, and took a step closer.
“I have no idea how you came here, Raven, but we lost a fortune because of you. Your death will be quick, but trust me: once we reach your Floor, you’ll be wanted by every member of my clan, every Messenger, and every bounty hunter.”
Raven took no interest in his threat. He wondered how these guys happened to be on his Floor. Hangman seemed unaware of just where they were.
What the hell?
“Fuck off, will you?” Raven waved, his face showing that he couldn’t care less about what Hangman had to say. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
They stared at each other in mutual confusion. Instead of wasting his breath on words, Hangman just glared at Raven, then shook his head, and, barely containing his fury, gave his teammates a sign to attack.
“Do whatever you like, but KILL THIS BASTARD! You’ll be handsomely rewarded!”
His teammates were all level eighty or higher. Raven knew better than to fight them right now. So, he just turned around and ran to where he had heard that weird sound from.
Lots of spells and projectiles were shot at him, but the distance was too large, and his speed advantage too great. As he retreated and considered the situation, he was surprised to see a door far ahead, right in the middle of the hall. It looked like he had to destroy all the doors to find the one he needed, and he had just barely avoided opening the wrong one.
I can’t believe I now owe these bastards. He smirked, and, Leap-ing up to the door, looked back.
The Nameless were doing their best. They had even summoned their pets, but the last thing they saw before the rogue disappeared was his taunting smile, and him tipping his non-existent hat as if though to say goodbye.
The door disappeared immediately after he passed through them, leaving his pursuers in an empty hallway, in which there was nothing except eternal blinding whiteness.
Attention! The Monarch’s Will quest has been updated.
You have located the door. Good luck, White Raven.
Raven saw a giant statue of a kneeling man with a sword in one hand, and a wide set of stairs spiraling for about three hundred feet up to his other. The stone stairs were smoothed out by time, cracked and broken in places. They led to something that he couldn’t see from below. When he took out the spyglass and looked at the statue’s open palm, he saw something that looked like a book. It seemed to be made of stone, just like the statue, and emit a faint glow.
The statue stood in the center of a giant area, surrounded by ruins. Its gear and clothes could only belong to a warrior: high boots, light armor, and an open helmet, leaving his face, carved with great skill by an unknown sculptor, to be admired.
Aside from the ruins, there was nothing but a wasteland for miles around. As Raven looked at the rough edges of the patch of land that he and the statue were standing on, he realized that he was on some sort of a floating island.
“Could things be simple just once?”
He slowly came up to the stairs, and tested the first one with his sword before stepping on it. Then he climbed step after step, as slow as a toddler learning to walk, expecting something to jump out at him. But time passed without any stairs collapsing, or deadly traps being activated.
That’s odd, he thought, lowering his spyglass. He stood atop the stairs, in front of the stone book, looking at the titan’s head. Its size was comparable to that of America’s largest stadiums, but what caught his attention was the fact that its eyes seemed to be hollow.
He gave a snort and turned to the book. About twelve feet tall, from up close it looked somewhat like a tablet. He made an attempt to save before touching it. Unsurprisingly, saving didn’t work, which was the game’s way of saying that he had one shot at completing the quest. He hated this system, but understood it. Precious items wouldn’t be precious if they were simply handed to you, would they now?
He collected his thoughts and, shaking off the fatigue and anxiety, came up to the book that was hovering three feet above the statue’s palm. His heart skipped a beat as he touched the stone pages. A message popped up instantly.
You have discovered ancient inscriptions left by an unknown individual. They have long lost their power. Now, these stone pages have but a barely perceptible trace of someone’s touch, fading away like starshine.
Cost: 0/400 Influence Points
Activate the inscriptions?
Yes/No
“Fucking hell. What if I had none?” he drawled before he spent the requested amount of Influence Points. Good thing I can afford this...
-400 Influence Points
The faint glow flared up, absorbing the new energy, and shot up a pulsing column of light. The bright flash hit the ruins, sending multiple waves over the deserted streets and dilapidated houses that restored them to their former glory, like a video played in reverse. Before Raven even knew it, the dead city had regained its past colors. Scowling, he shook his hand to retrieve his spyglass. Like he thought. It wasn’t just him in this world anymore. There were some creatures roaming below. Humanoid, they were living their life as if they hadn’t just been resurrected. They were walking their children, hurrying somewhere on business, working, or trading. There were even guards patrolling the streets, and casting vigilant looks at everyone around.
“So… What next?” Raven wondered aloud, still in the dark about what he had to do. He looked back and cast a suspicious glance at the statue’s hand, and then at the book.
It’s worth testing... He touched the book again – and got thrown aside by some force. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by quite a large group of strangers. Smiling, they looked at him. What was even stranger was that he had found himself in a big hall full of well-dressed guests. Maids were bustling about, carrying pitchers and plates, and making their way through the groups of people dancing to the tunes of rather pleasant music.
A girl belonging to some humanoid race handed him a goblet with some drink. “Hey, Wag! Drink with us! We did it. We should celebrate, yes?”
Raven took the goblet and looked down at his clothes. They were identical to those he had seen on the statue.
“Wagraf! Or should we now call you Lord Wagraf?” A young warrior clad in similar attire smirked at him and made a strange sign with his hand. Raven didn’t know the meaning of the gesture, but the name definitely rang a bell.
Wagraf? Where could I have heard it before...?
He remembered his past experience of getting transferred into someone else’s body. That time, he had been an inquisitor.
Okay, fine, whatever. But what should I do here? He was still at a loss about that; he had no leads. He had got transferred into someone’s body; that much was clear. But why? What was his goal?
As he pondered over it, one of the guests took a sip from his goblet and a piece of roast meat from the big plate, then raised a finger to draw his attention.
“I have an idea,” he said, having swallowed the piece of meat he had been chewing on. “Now that you’re the leader, may we pay a visit to one couple?” Seeing everyone’s confused glances, he clarified: “You know who I mean. I know that they have a lot of gold and expensive stuff. And their family has been looking down on us since the beginning! Now that you have the power, why don’t we use it?” He winked and rubbed his hands. “I’m telling you: they have lots of gold. Twenty grands at least.”
“I don’t mind it, to be honest,” a woman, also dressed in soldier gear, drawled. “The treasury has been emptied by your brothers and sisters. Many families have been half-starved by the war. We need money to buy food for them, and to rebuild their houses. To heal the sick. And we don’t have enough for all of that.” She looked at Raven. “Please, give it a thought. You’re the leader now. A lord, as some are calling you. It’s your duty to care about your people. You have the power to make the rich share with the rest.”
Raven slid his gaze over the people standing around him and, taking a sip from his goblet, activated Identification.
Name: Umura
Level: 237
Name: Otar
Level: 261
He then tried to open his character menu, but all the information it normally contained had been turned into question marks. He had no idea what that meant. He hadn’t seen anything like that before.
“What do you think, friend?” Dil, the man who had begun this conversation, asked. He waited for Raven’s response like everyone else.
No system messages. Nothing at all.
Raven tried to complete this puzzle with all the information he already had. First: he was in the body of the Monarch after whom this challenge had been named. Second: he was being offered a rather simple choice.
Wait a second. He opened the task menu and read the quest description again. You can only complete this challenge if you prove your worth, huh?
“How much do we need?” he asked Bailey, the warrior woman.
“A lot, Wag. A whole fucking lot.” She looked into his eyes. “We’ve come a long way, and gone to great lengths to make you our monarch. You’re the only member of the chief’s family who lived. You know what sort of things we’re dealing with. The rule of power. Outrageous taxes. Brutal treatment of the poor, of those who can’t feed their families. We’ve been through that. All of us, including you. You know that if we don’t challenge this order, they will continue to suffer.”
Raven listened carefully, learning more about the lore. The only thing he still lacked to make his decision was a voice from the other side. But the system finally stepped in, presenting him with a message.
Attention! You have a choice to make. Will you rob the rich of their gold, or leave them be and find another solution?
He hated that. It reminded him of the Corrupted Tomb of Three Deeds. The same black-and-white, good-and-evil thinking.
He didn’t know which answer was right but, when he opened his mouth to speak, the plate with the roast caught his eye. He looked around, paying more attention to his surroundings. The first thing that he noticed was an abundance of expensive food. Then he noticed even more details that contradicted what Bailey had told him.
He started to list them aloud – and the music stopped at once. With each word he spoke, the people and the world around him began to fade, vanishing into the dead silence like strokes of paint being removed from the canvas, giving place to a different location and different people.
He was pushed along a chain of events, forced to relive the memories of a stranger, edited and distorted in such a way as to puzzle him, to test him. What was the greater good? Who should come first: the king or the people? Should the vote belong to the ruler or to the crowd? Who should be sent to die: nobles or commoners? Should the king fight in the first lines of his army, or command from behind?
Make your choice!
Make your choice!
Make your choice!
His head was spinning. He had no way to be sure if he was doing any of this right. Once he made his choice, the location would change as quickly as a frame of a movie being played at high speed.
He witnessed the beginning of wars, and their end. He negotiated with tribe leaders and kings, brought them gifts of peace, or heads of their enemies. He declared war. He was a grown man, then a child, then an old man. He saw friends die, and children grow up. He sent others to death, and risked his own life. He trained his students and forgave those who betrayed him…
The life of the Monarch had been that of life-changing decisions. This experience affected Raven so deeply that, once it was all over, he collapsed to the ground next to the book, too exhausted to even breathe. What he had seen was far beyond his imagination. A born ruler who founded a thriving empire, as powerful as Ancient Rome had been. Could he become such a ruler? He was no longer sure. He needed so much more than what he currently had.
It wasn’t even his temper, but his lack of wisdom and experience. The only conclusion he had made from this adventure was that he had no intention of taking responsibility for another empire. He smirked at his past ambitions as he lurched to his feet and checked the time. Just as expected, the whole thing took only a couple of hours.
He didn’t accept defeat, but he realized that he wasn’t ready. He still had time to find a solution.
As he turned back to the book, he froze.
Hanging in the air over it was a small item. A ring.
His recent conclusion immediately seemed too hasty. He had completed the challenge, after all. This ring was proof of that. So… so did that mean that he was ready? He swallowed and took a step toward the ring, but stopped
mid-way and looked down at his trembling hands.
He went over the past events. As he looked up at the giant’s head looming over the book, it took him a few seconds to realize that his eyes were no longer empty. Filled with radiant light, they seemed to stare at him, and then… then he heard a voice. A deep and very familiar voice.
“Why have you stopped, messenger? The ring is right in front of you. Come and take it.”
Raven struggled to believe what he was about to say, but he always followed his beliefs. His main principle was trusting himself.
“After all I’ve seen…” He shook his head as though thinking aloud, not answering the heavenly voice. “A power like that… The one who lived this life was truly a great man. I’ve been through a lot of pain myself. I’ve suffered losses. I’ve achieved much, I’ve overcome many obstacles.” He paused. “Being great… No, becoming great… I’ve never really thought about it. I dreamed big, yes, but it was only for one person. I wanted to conquer the Floor to keep her safe, but I… Until now, I just didn’t understand what kind of a burden I was about to shoulder. How many lives. Even though they’re fictional.” Raven shook his head and looked up at the statue. “If I say I don’t want this ring, it’ll be a lie. But I…” He smiled a sad smile and scratched his head. “I’m unworthy of it. That’s the way it works, yes?”
The voice was silent for about a minute, but then it shook the heavens again.
“Take the ring, messenger. You will have enough time to become worthy. I have created this place in accordance with the will of my teacher, the Monarch. So be it.”
Attention!
Chapter 273. A Sign of Power
T he importance of any ongoing event had always been a difficult thing to evaluate. Be it a high-stakes job interview where your responses decided whether you’d begin your climb to new heights or fall to the bottom, or a turning point in a relationship where you’d take a step to spend the rest of your life with one person, or to forever part ways with them. If you believed that they were your soulmate, you were likely to feel devastated when they suddenly left you, making you feel like you’d never be able to smile again. But a month later, you probably wouldn’t even remember their name, having found someone else and entered a new blooming relationship.
