by Rae Nantes
Broken machines that resembled robots or mechanical monsters. Four-legged manatech guards that looked more like scorpions with guns stuck to their arms. Yun noted the bullet casings in the dirt - magic rounds. This place was no joke.
A rumble hit us, and we felt it all around. Bits of dirt and dust fell from the ceiling and tapped the walkway. "We have to hurry," Willow said.
More steps that led to more hallways and again to more steps before we finally found them - almost a dozen full parties locked in combat with a mob of machines. They were in a massive room, fitting for an arena or a boss fight. One manatech creature rolled into a ball, through the crowd of players before springing back out to thrust an arm into a healer's gut. A nearby swordsman in high-level samurai gear sliced the mage free while a knight retook aggro. That was just one of many they were in combat with.
"Behind us!" one yelled.
We stood atop the stairs, feeling the piercing glances of nearly a hundred players who glanced back to see. Those who could maintain the gaze kept it for uncomfortably long, likely taking stock of us and who we were. "Halt!" I ordered. My voice echoed off the cavern walls and pierced the sounds of battle. "You're trespassing on the lands of—"
"Charlie squad!" a gruff voice interrupted. "Keep them busy!"
I would not be ignored by these pedestrian players, not without substantial losses on their end. "Fusillade!"
"Wall 3(ice)!"
Just as my muskets shot a barrage at them, a massive white wall sparked into view, dividing the room between us. The musket rounds puffed against the ice, planting cracks and splinters and powder. It was the highest level wall spell, rare enough that this was even the first I had heard of it. "Insight."
Simone rammed her sword into it and tapped it with her shield. The icy frost fell like steam. Low, muffled voices and noise bled through from the other side. There wasn't a way around.
"How much further are we?" I said in a hurry. This was a race to the bottom, and we were losing.
"I don't know," Willow said.
I furrowed my brow and felt the anxiety return. It gripped at my heart, pulled goosebumps from my skin, and shortened my breath. As soon as we took down this wall, they'd pull another up, and even if they didn't, we’d have to face off with an entire platoon of max level players with rare spells.
"Dude," Relce said. "I got an idea."
***
In the deepest section of the cavern, I sat on my throne lifted high atop the stairs, the dark hall lit by torches that lined the walls. Beside me, sat an ordinary wooden chest, stuffed with whatever random trash we thought to throw in - a few pocket knives, enough gold to buy a sandwich, and some hastily-written scrolls with whatever spells we could pull out of our asses. We opted to give them Yun's AoE root spell and an experimental one I had been working on - a spell that summoned a single sword to make a quick slash in front of the caster before disappearing. They're going to feel real silly running around yelling untitledSpell_2, but they'll get over it once they see how badass it looks.
A slam at the far hall, then another. The barricaded door erupted, ripping from its hinges, and sliding across the dirt to thunk on the other side. Knights who were formed up in a shield wall poured out, ready for another fight. They spotted me, a mysterious woman sitting with crossed legs on a throne, head rested lazily on her hand, staring at them as a final boss would.
"This is it, men!" the leader barked. He had the gnarled voice of a veteran raider, even with the Viking accent. "We defeat her, and the loot is ours!"
"Wait," a woman said. It was Willow. "I believe this one is the keeper of the dungeon, the dungeon core, the one who will bestow the treasures." She spoke with reason, and it reached out to them.
They nodded at her, whispering among themselves as for whether or not to trust these surprising additions to their party - fellow loot seekers who got spooked earlier, but now had come to join forces to purge the dungeon of its monsters. Beside her stood Simone and Yun, protecting her flanks against the unknown dangers of the cavern.
"Is it true?" the leader said. His voice was deep, and it trembled throughout. He spoke with authority, as a leader and a hero. "Are you the core?" he asked me.
I stood up and tossed off my cloak as dramatically as I could imagine. I spoke with the voice of a goddess. "I am, brave warriors." I marched down the steps to meet him on his approach. "You have done well. You have shown me your strength, and I will grant you the treasures of Rhoda."
I reached the bottom and saw him face to face. He was huge, true to his fake-Viking accent. He dropped his shield beside him - it thumped into the ground hard enough to rattle my feet. His sword clanked away on the other side. Then he knelt. I wanted to jolt back in surprise, burst out in laughter at the absurdity, but I couldn't drop the facade. Even on his bent knee, he was eye level with me.
"I am ready, woman of the dungeon," he said.
"Uh, yes," I said. I looked for the chest - the loot - and realized I left it back at the throne. I panicked internally. Running back up and back down carrying a big wooden chest would've looked stupid as hell, and even then, it was Relce who dragged the heavy thing up there. I felt a bead of sweat run down my back. Then, it floated. The chest eased up, down the stairs, and dropped between us. Dust swirled out from under it as it slammed on the concrete walkway.
I looked over at Willow to see her whispering to no one, then turning to mask her smile. Her shoulders were shaking, her eyes wide, her hands covering her mouth to force back down the laughs that struggled to come out.
"Behold!" I yelled. "The treasure!" My voice carried far and into the eager crowd of players.
The chest was just out of arm’s reach from him. He scooted closer and lifted it open with the eyes of a child on Christmas morning. He dug his hands in, almost elbow deep, and scooped out the scrolls. A quick glance, and he stood up, spun around, and held them high. "Victory!" he roared. His companions cheered and patted each other on the back.
He nodded one of his subordinates over. "Sort these by DKP," he whispered. The young woman nodded, grabbed the handful, and hurried back. The Viking turned back to the loot and dug out the sword. He studied it, the blade, its handle, the balance, and its edge.
"Ah," I let out, "the magical blade of... Rhodmagus the third. It isn't so much a weapon than it is a keepsake." It was really Simone's spare sword that she bought for about 30 gold, but it didn't matter. To him, it meant a symbol of victory, that he did it, that he took his party against all odds to an unknown PvE dungeon in a PvP game. He was the first, and possibly the only.
He aggressively nodded, rammed it back into its sheath, and stuck it in his waist. "Well?" He looked down at me with expectant eyes.
"Yep, that's the loot."
"It is customary," he said, "that we receive titles for such legendary deeds."
I groaned internally. How the hell was I going to pull this off? My mind raced for a solution, but I soon found it. I waved my hand across him, whispered the spells to draw the variable that held his name, then mentally crafted a spell to alter it. His name was Havardr, so I just needed to come up with something that would sound cool before it. "Worldbreaker," I whispered.
His eyes widened. A faint smile eased across his lips at the sound. I feared he might start salivating if I didn't apply it soon. I announced it again, projecting my voice across the cavern for full effect. "Worldbreaker Havardr!"
The cheers, the applause, the celebration. He knelt again as I spoke the words and now his name was true. Of course, this meant that I'd have to give literally everyone here the same title, so they needed to form a polite queue for me to hand them out like they were standing in line at the coffee shop. When Simone, Willow, and Yun took their turns, they each stared at me with pink faces, wide eyes, and stupid grins that they failed to suppress. By the time I was done, my mouth was dry from the constant casting.
"Lady of the dungeon," the Viking said. "Will there be more?"
"More what?"
&nb
sp; "More dungeons," he said with a growl.
"Perhaps," I said. "Continue your quests, and I'm certain the answer will reveal itself."
He eased into a bow. "Thank you, lady. Fare thee well."
With that, he and his players left. The quiet returned, a pebble fell from the ceiling and tapped the ground beside me. I sighed to breathe out the tension. Then, a snicker. It was Relce.
He shuffled out from behind the throne, his face red with stifled laughter before he let it all out. "Dude. Amazing."
I smiled. The entire plan worked perfectly. Relce had been studying stealth spells in his spare time, mostly to get closer to Trell's memory, and now it paid off. We were able to sneak by all the fighting and combat, away from the manatech guards, and here to the open cavern where we could prepare. The throne and chest vanished when I clicked off the spell.
Footsteps at the doorway. It was Worldbreaker Simone and friends. "I have a great idea," Yun said. He looked at Relce for confirmation. "What if - we made our own dungeons, like with the arena we have going. We'll make tons of money!"
"What if," Willow said. "We hurry up and get out of this creepy cave before I asphyxiate."
"But first," Simone said. She looked at me with victory in her eyes. "The real treasure."
I took a deep breath and smiled. "It's time," I said. We walked around the throne platform, behind it, and to the iron door. I clicked it open and stepped back, waiting for another machine guard to ambush us. Yet there was nothing but silence. I stuck my head around the corner to see.
It was a bedroom.
Chapter 44
Polyglot
I've been here before.
Faint, distant memories tugged at me, begging to uncover themselves, to rip off the veil within me, and leap in my mind. The scent of old linens, stagnant dust, well-kept parchment. Old rugs laid atop one another, making the floor uneven beneath me but soft on my feet. Glowstones acted as lamps in the corners, setting off a warm glow. A framed painting on the far wall - a scene of a blue and white sky.
Simone broke the silence. "What is this?"
"My room," I said. My voice felt far away from me. "That painting is my first memory in this world. The skyline of the shore."
The silence returned. My friends stayed by the entrance, hesitant to walk in this seemingly sacred place. I turned to them. "Give me a few minutes."
They nodded, then left.
I took a deep breath as I drank in the sight. This was home, this was the place I'd escape to for solitude and peace. To me, it was a sacred place.
I brushed my hand along the row of books on the shelf, fingers tapping at old tomes laden with dust. I slid one out and cracked it open. A diary.
I glossed over the writing and flipped through it. This was a detailed account of my time spent as a chef in a distant country, centuries prior. Recipes and sketches of people and places. Everything I had once known before and seeing it in front of me offered that tugging deja vu feeling. I snapped the book shut and pushed it back in its slot. There were dozens, no, hundreds of books on the shelves, likely all lives I had lived - and I regretted not having time to read them all.
Or perhaps that was the treasure. This was the entirety of my past, all written in objective detail. Yet still, the memories were incomplete. I pulled another, the life of a businessman, and read into it. The entire thing was dry, no account of how I felt, the emotions I experienced, the worries I suffered or the good times I enjoyed. It was as though the information came to me from a second hand, unwrapped from the flavor of life and left as raw output.
I could spend hours here, days, weeks, months. But I couldn't, not now. I had a war to fight, a war to win. The room continued around the corner, into a study. A lone desk sat at the end, a glowstone lamp illuminating a loose stack of papers. It was as though I had just been here hours before, leaving in the middle of some critical research. Pens were still open, papers spread out with diagrams and blueprints and lines of... code.
It was strange seeing it all written before me. IF statements, THEN statements, nested loops and function calls. I was drafting spells here, studying my trade like a scientist and an inventor of magic. I pulled out the chair and eased into it. Bits of dust drifted in the light and vanished in the darkness. My hand pulled the drawer open - entirely out of muscle memory. Inside, a lone leather-bound notebook. Not unlike the kind a merchant would keep in his sleeve or a student to scribble notes in. I felt a longing inside me, a sense of purpose.
This was it.
I opened it. The first third of the book had already been ripped out, edges of torn paper ruffled out at the spine, but I already knew the reason. A lone word was written neatly on the page: polyglot(). The same on the next page and the next - on every page the exact same word stared back at me. I studied the word, my eyes drifting along the straights and bends of each letter. Polyglot.
It was a spell, no doubt, but for what? Would it matter? This was something I had made, for no one else but myself. I didn't even know what the word meant. No. I did know what it was. A polyglot is one who speaks many languages. If this would teach me the language of magic, the language of fire and ice and lightning and earth - then maybe this was the magnum opus of my work.
I tore out a sheet and eased my hand over the spell. It flashed. The paper turned to ash and dust. Then I felt it.
The entire time I had spent here, I felt like a fish out of water. Unbelonging to the world, a stranger in a distant land, but now - now I was back in the sea. A wealth of knowledge erupted into me, seemingly infinite lines of code and functions, nested and clustered and strung along, all ripping off the veil in my mind's eye, presenting itself - presenting the world in all its wonder. I felt it all, I understood everything, the representations of the world and its laws and it became me.
And I became the world.
I could see it clearly now, the languages of magic. Code written as clear as day. It was, surprisingly poorly written, with dumbass variable names and commented sections that were filled with shopping lists and bug reports that had long been fixed. References to functions that were since renamed, variables long changed. It might've been a pain to read, but I could read it. There was no longer a language of magic that I didn't know.
Yet no memories. Part of me hoped this knowledge would awaken the past within me, saving me time from having to read a library of half-complete books, but that wasn't the case. I sighed, but I knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or could I?
I mentally ran over my list of spells and found what I was searching for - hindsight(). This was likely the skill that the priestess had, and the one Willow inherited. I invoked it within myself, no longer needing to speak the words beyond my inner voice.
Still, nothing.
I couldn't feel my past, nor see it or understand it, but I knew the reason. I gently set the leather-bound notebook back in its place and eased the drawer closed. After tidying the room up a bit - it was my room after all - I walked out to see my friends' expectant faces.
"Well?" Willow said. "Did you find anything?"
I didn't reply, I couldn't. I stared at her, into her, into her past and who she was and is and everything that she was long before. Lives upon lives lived raced into my mind in a flash, births and deaths and lifetimes lived as various people and places and things and sights and smells and entire worlds of living, and I drank it all in.
I gasped for air and came back to the present. I was so overwhelmed by the infinite knowledge found in every crevice and corner of the world that I forgot to breathe.
Willow looked at me with sly eyes and a smile. She nodded at Yun, who nodded back.
"Willow," I said. My voice felt like a distant echo. "What is the feminine version of a lord?"
She tilted her head. "Uh, lady, I believe."
"Then send word. That Lady Gaia has returned."
Chapter 45
The War for Independence
"I have news," the President said.
&
nbsp; "And?"
"Iskala just surrendered. With the help of our comrades in Vellen, we defeated the armies of Nisia and Weslen. Them and a few other small nations are out of the war now."
"I see."
The President turned to peer out of his window, his arms resting behind his back. He spoke with a sigh. "The Black Lions, however, still have not replied to our requests for peace." He took a deep breath. "They've defeated Muskvana and Freda - or France as you keep calling it - and annexed them both entirely."
This was not ideal. The objective was for Smith to ruin himself against his neighbors as they all distracted each other during the war. I did not expect him to actually win that completely. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
He turned to me. "The Black Lions own everything from the west coast to the deadlands. It is the largest, most powerful nation many times over, and now the remnant coalition armies are regrouping there." He paused. "Alex, are you sure this is a good idea?”
“What choice do we have?” I knew what his heart wanted to say. I knew that he wanted to ask, in the humblest and most respectful way, if we could just surrender ourselves and go back into our simple lives as video game cattle, that perhaps our lot in life was an acceptable one. I knew his pride prevented him asking, or maybe his fear of me, or maybe some other reason, yet I knew he would never come to ask.
Footsteps at the doorway - Willow. "It's not just the Black Lions," she said. "It's the balance council."
"What about them?" I asked. "They don't have an army to attack with, and we’re already fighting their coalition."
"No," she said. Her eyes looked past me, worry on her face. "The Balance Council is headquartered in Muskvana. Now that they have been annexed, the Black Lions control them."
