Battle For The Nine Realms

by Ramy Vance

  He was going to ask her out.

  Then he thought about it. Do people even do that anymore? Ask someone out? How would you even go about doing that? Ask her to go steady? Too archaic. Maybe ask her to be his girlfriend? Too grade school.

  Shit, he thought as he looked up, meeting her eyes. She had stopped and was staring at him.

  “Yeah?” Beth asked.

  Suzuki froze. His words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. The words he’d rehearsed time and again failed him.

  But now seemed as good a time as any to ask. The veil had been pulled back and they were both here, walking through a field, off on an adventure neither of them fully understood, nor had ever imagined possible.

  And if Suzuki had learned anything from the books, now was the time to say something. Still, his jaw was locked shut, refusing to budge.

  Beth chuckled. “You know, I still have that ring you gave me.” She pulled up a keychain with an old-school Tamagotchi. On it hung a Lord of the Rings replica ring that Suzuki had won in a gaming competition. When he had shown it to Beth, she had remarked on how pretty it was, so Suzuki, being the sap he was, had sent it to her.

  “Are you fucking serious?” Suzuki blushed. He had sent her that ring years ago, and she still had it. “I thought you weren’t into nostalgic shit like that.”

  Beth slipped the ring off of her keychain. It was small, barely wide enough for any of her fingers. Still, she managed to slip it onto her pinky finger and held it up for all to see.

  “Hey, douche nozzles,” Beth called to Sandy and Stew. “Did you guys ever see the ring Suzuki got me?”

  Stew looked back and rolled his eyes. “Looks cheap.”

  Sandy pushed Stew, nearly knocking him over. “It’s the thought, you idiot.”

  Suzuki blushed again and focused on moving the grass out of his way.

  “I thought it was a nice gesture,” Beth whispered as she leaned closer to Suzuki. “Even if it’s something an old man would do.”

  “Maybe, but then again, you kept it, and I’m pretty sure that’s something only an old broad would do.”

  Beth chuckled, starting to walk again. “You’re probably right. Still, I liked it. I kept it on me for, you know, good luck and shit like that.”

  “Yeah, sure. Good luck,” he muttered. His chance to say something slipped away with every step they took.

  The groups followed Myrddin and Grimpston over a large hill and began their descent into the valley, which stretched for miles. They could see multiple structures—barracks of a sort with tracks for sprinting or jogging.

  People were moving about the larger structures. Some of them looked to be human-sized, while others were shorter. Dwarves and gnomes were doing heavy labor. A large, glowing blue orb with spikes that fractured and reformed was in the middle of it.

  It reminded Suzuki of a bootcamp.

  Once they reached the barracks, Grimpston found a large stump to stand on. Myrddin had disappeared, leaving him alone with the recruits.

  Grimpston stroked his beard and cleared his throat. “Welcome to the Pain Field,” he shouted, his voice magically echoing through the valley. “Years ago, we used to hold a sort of fitness routine for a few months to make sure our cadets were capable of withstanding combat. However, thanks to the ingenious creation of Mr. Emrys, we are quite certain of your combat abilities. Think of this more as a physical. We know what you are capable of, but now we need to know if your bodies can withstand the strain of Middang3ard—the true pain of success.”

  “Did he just say pain?” Stew looked worried. He was such a big guy, but he didn’t seem to be into pain of any kind. “Nothing in Middang3ard hurt before. I mean, not really. The suit would poke you, but you could always change the pain settings if it got too much and—”

  “Shit wasn’t real before,” Beth shot out. “Besides, how’d you get those muscles without a little bit of pain?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  Grimpston went to open the doors of the barracks just as they swung open on their own. A trio of dwarves came out carrying pots and pans, grumbling as they walked. The dwarves’ beards were impressive, nearly touching the ground, which wasn’t really saying all that much since they barely stood over four feet.

  Still, their bodies were magnificent. One of the women pushed past Suzuki, stopping for a second before sniffing loudly and spitting at Suzuki’s feet.

  “Fucking humans,” she snarled as she shuffled past.

  Grimpston clapped his hands. “Please excuse them. Nerves are tight around here right now, especially among the dwarves. They lost much in this war, and it doesn’t help that today a platoon of their soldiers disappeared in the Flats of Jer-Suay. But that is why you are here: to help. Now come with me. It’s time to get you fitted.”

  Grimpston led the cadets behind the barracks. There were racks of weapons, including longswords, bows, shields.

  Along with the weapons, there was a human mage dressed in what appeared to be a military-issue robe. It fit him perfectly, yet still flowed. A red stripe ran down the front of his robe.

  The mage motioned for the cadets to come closer. “Time to get you outfitted,” he cackled as Grimpston pulled one of the cadets forward, a teenager no older than seventeen. Looking the teenager over, he announced, “This one’s not even old enough to drink.” His voice came out old and brittle, like a clichéd wizard in some 1980s movie.

  “Shut up,” Grimpston snapped. “Most of the newest batch is this young. Or impressively old.” The professor pointed at two elderly men who looked like they were having the time of their very, very long lives.

  The mage shrugged and walked around the teenager. He nodded as he took measurements with a thin measuring tape. Then he raised his hands, drew them together, and spread them apart.

  Runes floated in the air between his hands. They looked like small icicles or snowflakes with a glowing nexus, then they suddenly burst with a loud pop. Bits of the runes swirled around the cadet and attached to his body.

  They started to glow and spread. The cadet’s clothes turned bright blue, then began melding together. They morphed into a sleek suit of armor consisting of thin, basic plate mail on top, with fine black chainmail underneath, all with the consistency and elasticity almost of nylon.

  The helmet was a tight fit, and there were electric nodes on the side. The visor was a dull blue.

  Five more mages walked out of the barracks and motioned for the cadets to come forward.

  They broke into queues, lining up behind anyone with whom they felt remotely comfortable. The Mundanes stuck together as they approached one of the mages, an old man with a battle-worn face marked with scars.

  The sheer unbelievability of the situation was making itself evident to Suzuki. Everything was getting more and more surreal. Gnomes. Dwarves. Battle armor?

  It was Suzuki’s turn to stand before the mage, who looked him over once and nodded. He cast the runes, and Suzuki felt his clothes dissolving and then hardening. His vision went black for a second as a helmet materialized over his head, and then his vision returned. There was a brief crack of energy, and Suzuki’s HUD came online.

  He sighed. Here was something he was at least comfortable with. He’d spent enough time in the game world of Middang3ard to feel as if he were slipping on a second skin.

  His HP was displayed in the top right-hand corner, rate of success on the left, and at the bottom were slots for inventory and skills. But there were also variances from the original HUD he had come to love and trust.

  On the left-hand side was a list of attributes: Strength, Intelligence, Dexterity, Endurance, and Etheric Potential. These had all been taken care of in the game’s leveling system.

  All of these attributes were out of twenty, and in the game, his strength was 16, well above average. Now his strength read 10—in other words, average for a human.

  Just like him.

  These attributes weren’t some idealistic level. The HUD was literally reading the r
ecruits and giving them real scores based on their true abilities.

  The only number that read higher in real life than in the game was intelligence. In life, Suzuki was a solid 18. In the game, his warrior-mage was only a 16.

  Smarter than I look, Suzuki mused.

  Finally, at the bottom of the HUD was something that Suzuki had never seen before: the lower left-hand corner showed a question mark icon.

  Suzuki tried to select the icon for more information. When none was forthcoming, he queried the mage. “What’s the question mark for? And how come I can’t get more info?”

  The mage ignored his question, and Grimpston motioned for Suzuki to get out of the way and join up with the other cadets who had been outfitted. “Come on, boy. Hurry it up.”

  Most of the cadets with uniforms were already grabbing at the weapons they preferred. Suzuki noticed that there were minor variations for different kinds of cadets and he assumed they were based on the different classes the cadets had played during the in-game version of Middang3ard.

  Warrior characters tended to have bulkier armor, with the addition of chest and shoulder plates. Most of the dagger-wielders and archers had lighter leather armor, with a selection of pouches and straps.

  The mages were the only characters who stood out. They had militarized robes similar to the mages who were equipping everyone. The robes fit tighter than anything in Middang3ard, though, somewhat giving the impression of a Catholic priest.

  As Suzuki looked over the different weapons on the rack, the rest of the Mundanes joined him. Stew was fiddling with his chest piece. “It’s too big,” he grumbled after finally giving up and grabbing an ax.

  “I’m assuming that’s because it’s meant to protect you,” Suzuki pointed out.

  Beth took a couple practice swings with her sword to gauge its weight. “Yeah, I don’t care how big you think your muscles are, they’re not going to stop a sword. Besides, things are so much lighter here for some reason.”

  Stew flexed. “Not sure about my muscles not deflecting blows. I’m pretty hard.”

  “Hard head,” Beth said. “The rest of you is stab-able for sure.”

  “We won’t know that for sure until we try it out.”

  Sandy tugged at the hem of her robes. “Don’t joke like that. They all seem so serious about everything.”

  Beth sheathed her sword. “It’s because it’s fucking serious. The email, the CNN announcement—all of it was real. You guys get that, right?”

  They all nodded, their initial enthusiasm dampened.

  “Myrddin said that the gnome world already fell,” Beth reminded them, her voice excited and hurried. “As in, the gnome world doesn’t exist anymore. As in, the Dark One fucking genocided an entire race, a whole fucking planet.”

  There was intensity in the way she spoke, and although Suzuki couldn’t see Beth’s face behind her helmet, he could hear what was cracking her voice.

  Fear. And that fear was going to spread to everyone.

  “Yeah, that’s true.” Suzuki stepped up beside Beth. “But that stops here. With us. We rose to the top of the ranks before. If we had been playing on the gnomish world, we would’ve kept that from happening. And we’re going to keep it from happening here. Got it?”

  Suzuki pressed the node on the side of his helmet. The HUD flashed, and he could breathe fresh air again.

  Beth and the rest of the Mundanes did the same. Sandy touched her ear as well, even though there was no helmet. She nodded in solidarity.

  “So let’s get ready to show the Dark One what the Mundanes fucking bring, all right?” Suzuki shouted. “For Honor!”

  “For glory,” they shouted.

  “For XP!”

  After the cheer, Stew looked at the group and scratched his head. “You know guys, there isn’t actually any XP in the game. Hasn’t been since the early tabletop RPG versions. And now that this is real and not VR, there really, really isn’t any XP. Maybe we should change our cheer.”

  “To what?” Suzuki asked.

  “I don’t know. Something like—”

  There was a loud gong, breaking Stew’s train of thought, and the chattering between the cadets stopped.

  Grimpston was standing on top of his tree stump again. His face was long, and his eyes were wet. The dwarves surrounding the tree stump looked haggard as well. It was as if they couldn’t see the beautiful valley they were standing in, the sun beaming down from above.

  They were all someplace else.

  “Let us begin our first round of training,” Grimpston said. “You will split into your default parties, and each party will meet with a mage. The mage will place you in a magical simulation of a combat scenario. Your goal is to survive. Remember, this is not a game. You will feel the consequences of your actions, and a dead cadet is no use to our world or yours. Now get going.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Mundanes marched over to the closest mage, a young human with bright, clear eyes. He nodded to acknowledge them before raising his hands and tracing a sigil in the air.

  A bright green light flashed, and the now-familiar tugging sensation of transportation engulfed them as the green world melted around them. It was replaced with something vaguely familiar.

  They were in an alley filled with trash. It was dark, and the walls of the buildings surrounding them were covered in what looked like blood. Steam rose from the sewer in front of them.

  “All right,” Suzuki whispered, “HUDs up.”

  Suzuki touched his ear, and the helmet materialized over his head. His HUD popped up before his eyes.

  It was slightly different from what he had seen earlier. His health was still displayed in the top right corner, alongside with his mana, which read twenty percent, far lower than it would have read in the game.

  Class restrictions? Suzuki wasn’t sure why he was so hobbled, not that it mattered here. A hundred, twenty, or zero percent, they were going to win the day.

  The lower right-hand corner was inventory, spells (of which there were none), and equipped weapons: a longsword, a shield, and a pistol.

  Suzuki felt his waist, and there was indeed a pistol. He made a mental note to check it out later. The upper left-hand corner was an approximated map, on which the Mundanes appeared as tiny blue dots huddled together. Up ahead, there was a jumble of red dots.

  “Sandy, do you have any mana?”

  “Yeah, a hundred percent.”

  “Hmm. Guess our HUD loadouts are specific to each player. Er…cadet, I mean.”

  “I’ll fucking say,” Stew growled as he pulled a short sword from his back. “At least this says barbarian. I can’t believe they gave me a dinky longsword. Might as well just have handed me a limp dick. No offense, Beth.”

  “Not all of us need to overcompensate, douchenozzle.”

  Suzuki put up a hand. “Seriously, guys, cut the shit. We can joke after we prove we’re supposed to be here.”

  As soon as those words left his lips, he realized that was exactly what he wanted to do: prove he belonged.

  There was the small voice in the back of his head, the one he was almost too embarrassed to even acknowledge was his. He’d been training his whole life for this. Every tabletop game. Every book. It felt as if they had been placed in front of him for a reason. Now was the chance to prove it to himself.

  To prove it to the Mundanes.

  To prove it to the world.

  To prove it to Beth.

  “People need us,” Suzuki continued. “No one’s needed the Mundanes before, not really. Now they do.”

  A voice piped through their HUDs’ communications. “Welcome to your first mission. The objective will be simple, but success will not. Remember, up until now, the only experience you’ve had was in your VR suits. That was a poor substitute for the real thing. And make no mistake…this is the real thing. Here, pain is very real. Here, death is very real. Prepare yourselves.”

  “You heard the man,” Suzuki said as his HUD flashed with the obj
ective DEFEAT ENEMIES.

  That sounded easy enough.

  The Mundanes stepped out of the alley and into an open street intersection. It was empty, except for a little old lady pushing a mop and bucket. She smiled sweetly at the Mundanes and slowly made her way across the street as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Behind her was an old derelict building with a glint of blue light emanating from one of its windows.

  Stew pointed at the old woman, then back at the building. “Who the fuck is she? The janitor? Where are we, Detroit?”

  “Get down,” Beth shouted as she lunged and knocked Stew over just as a glowing blue arrow whizzed past them both, landing in the ground. It flashed brightly, as if it had a pulse.

  “Book it,” Suzuki shouted, and the Mundanes scrambled.

  The arrow exploded, sending the Mundanes and chunks of concrete flying. Suzuki skidded across the concrete and leapt to his feet.

  “Sandy,” he shouted, “I want you airborne now! I need to see what we’re up against.”

  Suzuki couldn’t believe this. He was in a real, honest-to-God fight. This wasn’t a game, not anymore. This was real and all the game elements—shit like stats and avatar skins, classes, and anything else that you could log out of—didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was winning the fight.

  Somehow, Suzuki felt confident. He didn’t know why. This was his first real fight, but he felt strong. Capable. Ready.

  “Got it.” Sandy rose, covering herself in a magical aura. The smile on her face was nearly as wide as a truck. “This feels so fucking awesome,” she cried as she floated into the sky.

  From up in the building, dozens of arrows rained down on the street corner. The old woman continued slowly crossing the street, ignoring the cacophony of explosions and bright lights. Beth, Suzuki, and Stew took cover behind a semi.

  “What have we got?” Suzuki spoke in his HUD comm, which was eerily similar to the VR simulator’s.

  “Goblin archers in the windows,” Sandy’s voice piped. “Magic arrows, obviously.”