by John Gold
“Did you get your quest?”
“Yep.”
Femida doesn’t want to tell me what she’s afraid of, and Isaac decides not to say anything after a glance at her, too. But they’re both experiencing the same emotion: light fear and disgust.
“Apparently, we need to talk. Let’s start with why you’re afraid of me—and I don’t want to hear any excuses. I can sense exactly what you’re feeling, so faking it won’t work.”
Femida sighs, quickly climbs into her armor, and jumps right in.
“I saw the battle, I saw you cut in half, and I saw one half of your body fall right in front of the inn. I saw something vile crawling down the wood, and then it started sacrificing people. Later, you became some kind of undead cockroach. I’ve seen a lot, and I have pretty strong nerves, mostly thanks to traveling the world with you, but you weren’t anything even close to what I’d call normal.”
“Sure, I’m abnormal. I know that. Isaac is abnormal, too, and he’s just as aware. He’s even really good at hiding it. We’re both abnormal psychologically, though you, Femida, aren’t so normal yourself. I can say with confidence that your intellectual capabilities go beyond what normal humans have. You were just fourteen when you were invited to the trial with the Hunters; fifteen when you became one; sixteen when you fought a god with me. You call me your chosen one, and now I can tell that you mean much more in saying that than a normal person would. You’re incredibly driven, you’d do anything to achieve your goal, and that goal has something to do with me. If I’m psycho, so is Isaac. But then you’re psycho, too, given the fact that you put up with us. I want to know right here and right now if you’re going with me to the end or if we’re parting ways.”
After she takes a second to think, a new message pops up in the group chat.
Yes… You’re my chosen one.
End of Part One
Part Two
The Riddle
Dear Sagie, LJ, Ribonz Almark, Angie Ganet, Bak Kvan,
If you’re reading these lines, something unexpected occurred, and I lost my memory again. Perhaps, my brain couldn’t handle the stress and went crazy. It could have been another stroke robbing me of my identity. Tomorrow is an important day, and I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. If something does happen, the location of the spot, where this letter was hidden, will be sent to you and Femida. One of you will definitely find it, and that’s enough. It includes a complete description of my life, beginning from when Project Chrysalis was released and ending with the present. The information here will help you restore your memory—hopefully, it’ll be all you need. There will also be a blood chain ring in the hiding place that you can use to find me. I’m leaving you this letter in the hope that you won’t forget what’s most important: bring father, Mama, and Rosie back. They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us. I hope you understand that.
Sagie
After our visit to Kurg, we continued our journey along the eastern part of the continent. My memories of that time aren’t any worse or any better than others, so there’s no point going into them, Sagie. Let me just tell you one important thing. During the ritual that expanded the area covered by the altar to the nameless god, I received a new ability. Nothing else that happened really had any major impact on my fate.
Ability received: Friend of the forest
The greatest reward the ruling spirits of the forest can bestow is the ability to fuse with trees.
The dryads only give this ability to a chosen few who demonstrate their devotion to the forest.
Effect: Lets you fuse with the trees and plants you grow yourself.
Merges your health attributes.
Femida wraps herself up tightly in her hunting cloak and adjusts the robe Isaac is wearing. My redhead wig with the long braids barely covers the gray locks I have. In fact, I’m forced to pull out the braids, smear dirt in my hair, and pull it up under the wig. The soiled sackcloth dress, my bare feet, and the red hair, all filthy dirty, have everyone walking by looking at me sideways.
It’s snowing, it’s slushy underfoot, and it smells like the fresh food on offer at the roadside stalls. The flow of people moves slowly, edging its way into Kkhor through the eastern gate.
This all started with a patrol. There were guards on horseback keeping an eye out for Femida and me on the road from Kurg to Kkhor, though we ignored them and continued setting a straight course for the later. After what happened in Kurg, we knew Leon had everyone out hunting for us.
The ambush by the tree meant that he’d already made the connection between LJ and Sagie, and that told me there would probably be another trap set at the Academy of Magic.
But we kept pushing onward toward Kkhor despite the danger. In fact, we’d already arrived at the gate when we realized that the guards were searching all pairs matching our description, forcing them to reveal their names. That let them identify people entering the city. The rest were let through without any problem, and that gave us an idea—we were going to change our appearance as much as possible.
We stuck a robe on Isaac, leaving him looking like some kind of giant Bedouin. Femida bought a set of archer armor from a wandering trader, not to mention the dirtiest dress he had for me. Besides the dress, I also picked up a wig. Dirt took the place of makeup.
In our new garb, we mixed with a crowd of locals and filtered into the city unnoticed. One of the guards thought I was a beggar and gave me a cuff that practically knocked my wig off, but Femida got involved, the guard took her for a man, and I got an apology.
Slender has really been getting on my nerves. I can sense how annoyed he is by the battle at the tree—he’s tied to that shapeshifter somehow, and now he’s trying to think up a way to cause trouble for me.
He slips from shadow to shadow, never giving me the chance to relax. Sometimes, I hear the shouts of people he purposefully scares. It’s possible that he feeds on the fear he elicits.
That idea struck me when I drew a parallel between him and Isaac, as the latter draws his strength from the person wearing him.
The main problem is that I don’t know how to get rid of Slender. He’s faster than me and can hide in any shadow, and my teleportation and ability to jump into the astral don’t pose a problem for him at all. He needs no air, food, or water. Really, he’s the ideal spy and a very unpleasant enemy.
The first place we go is the market square. Snow is falling, we’re trudging through dirt, and there’s another hour to go before sunrise. The local sellers are already putting fresh produce out on their counters.
It’s here, in the poorest district, that I feel most at home. The childhood Project Chrysalis gave me took place in a village where taking a trip to the market was an adventure in itself, back when I still hadn’t given any thought to luxuries like leveling-up.
In fact, everything you could call my normal childhood fit into just three weeks. My favorite memories are breakfasts with my parents, or maybe the lunches when father brought fish and mama praised him.
The local market, flush with the aroma of fresh village food, awakens those good memories for me. That’s why I come here instead of going to a trader’s shop.
After picking up enough food to last us five days, we head over to see the blacksmith about Femida’s sword.
The city is slowly waking up, the shops are starting to open, and players looking to sell their loot are beginning to gather on the streets. By the time we get to the blacksmith’s shop, the workday is already underway. Metal clangs, the familiar old lady voices her warning, and the smell of hot iron fills the area. Nothing has changed.
Femida’s stride changes as we get close, the chat filling with all kinds of choice language. Isaac has taken control, and he’s rushing toward the barrier above the smithy ahead of me. How do you describe a person possessed by a single idea? Isaac walks without paying the least bit of attention to other people. Cuffs to the back of the head, cursing at him in the chat, and warning after warn
ing do nothing to stop him. To my great surprise, in fact, the barrier doesn’t do him any damage. The bonuses from the living armor are enough to withstand the aura from the accursed metal.
When we walk into the shop, the blacksmith looks up at us and does something I never would have expected. He just nods gravely and respectfully at the living armor.
“Greetings, great master.”
Isaac nods back without replying.
The blacksmith remembers our agreement and the reward he promised, though he asks Isaac to help him instead of me. Actually, it’s like I’m not even there. My mental resistance is no longer worthy of interest or respect.
Lots of people have heard about what happens when two past masters meet, but there are far fewer who have seen what they can create when they put their minds together. The pair starts forging one order after another, one taking the lead, and the other following. There are no words. Instead, the room is filled with the ringing of hammers and the heat from the red-hot metal. Poor Femida is forced to suffer through the slave-like labor in order to get her new sword.
The first break happens eighteen hours of forging later. Femida tells us we’re all crazy and heads off to sleep, the inveterate blacksmith goes off to get something to eat, and Isaac stands quietly by the barrier, waiting for the blacksmith to return so they can get back to work. It’s only then that I realize he doesn’t get tired mentally or physically when he’s forging. I’ve only ever seen that in people who really love their work.
While I have time, I head over to the auction and send Ekron a bottle of the best wine I can find, creating a contract in his name with a note for him.
Congratulations on a very nice debut as a god-killer.
Bloody Sagie
When I get back to the blacksmith, I climb into the living armor and start working with the accursed metal. The sense of being wrapped up in the work is a familiar one for me—it’s the way I felt both in the desert and in Hell, when I was forging the key to my success. Every item I made was awash in the blood of hundreds of victims, and each one made me a little crazier. I wonder how far gone Isaac is. How engrossed is he in doing what he loves? The armor tells me a lot, though it doesn’t tell me everything.
Three days later, the blacksmith collapses right next to the anvil. When I start healing him, I notice a dozen exhaustion debuffs, though I’m able to get the rosy cheeks back. Femida, sitting by the barrier, whines about how hard we’re pushing the old man. Not enough bodies for you? she asks in the chat.
After I get rid of the debuffs, Isaac and I carry the blacksmith into the house and lay him down on his bed. And it’s when we’re walking out of the room that I realize my own legs are wobbly—I’m about to collapse from exhaustion myself. It’s been three days since I last slept. The remains of my strength take me to where Femida is, and I throw myself down next to her. The living armor sits nearby as if looking over at his victim. He’s as happy as a child with a new toy, emotions from joy and superiority to satisfaction and enjoyment radiating from him. LJ takes up his post as I fade away into dream land.
Isaac crouches, whirling a knife around in his hand, as he studies me falling asleep. The knife in his hand freezes, and a message appears in the chat.
I told you…what insanity is…
***
A few construction brigades belonging to the Golden Hand showed up in Kurg. The emperor held Leon and his underlings guilty for the damage that had occurred, and the young god was too afraid of losing believers to push back. He decided to beg the mercy of the emperor and get to work.
At least, that’s what lots of people would have done, but not Leon.
After the altar to the nameless god was destroyed, the area that should have been subject to the power of the tree was renamed the Targ Spirit Forest after the mountain range the city butted up against. It lost its status as an altar, though its special features remained. Animals still brought their gifts to the half-dead tree. Players were still able to resurrect their pets, though the resurrection ritual was a bit different.
The interface window talking about how the gift needed to be equal in value disappeared. Instead, players just buried gifts at random and asked the nameless god to resurrect their pets. If that didn’t happen, they knew their gifts hadn’t been enough.
Half the city fell under the Spirit Forest’s sphere of influence, and spirits poured out of the ground for days in a row to rise up into the sky. The air glistened silver constantly. Even though the place of strength had lost its power, it had become a unique area belonging to the spirits of nature.
The tree that had served as the altar to the nameless god hadn’t died despite the damage it had taken. The unknown mage had been able to split it in half from tip to root with just one attack. One of those halves had died along with Sagie’s lich, petrifying after the battle and losing all its leaves. It even featured ten contorted bodies also made out of petrified wood. But the second half had survived, covering its part of the field with shade from its leaves. A meter-wide gap separated the two halves, and the wood on both sides was charred.
The Golden Hand offered to buy the homes of everyone living in the area so they could move somewhere else. Everyone who took them up on their offer was given double the value of their destroyed homes, so there wasn’t much hesitation. The locals were all more than happy—only Leon had his eye on the future.
The legendary Forest of Spirits, the location of Bloody Sagie’s latest battle, the nameless altar… just two days later, the infonet was flooded with articles about the spot. That meant that it was about to become a cash cow, and even Merlen broke into a smile when he heard the plan. Leon was a master of generating income no matter what the situation. Having lost the battle, his focus was on winning the war.
Most importantly, he didn’t want Sagie to have anywhere to come back to.
Yes, it was a war, and Leon was prepared to do anything he had to do to win. Even Femida would receive a fabulous reward if she helped him catch Sagie, though the girl just laughed at him.
In the real world, they started going back through everyone they suspected of being Sagie. One tiny message, an easily-missed request sent to a psychologist about a dead boy, grabbed Leon’s attention.
***
I’m awakened by Femida yelling at Slender. He got it into his mind to jab the sleeping blacksmith with a stick, and the wild shrieks tell me he got what he was looking for.
Isaac is watching from around the corner, practically breathing down Femida’s neck. Slender disappears before the blacksmith can grab his hammer.
Once all our problems are solved, we finally get down to work on Femida’s sword. The process takes about nine hours, as we add layer after layer of metal. Flatten, combine, form, flatten, combine, a thousand times over. Isaac has nerves of steel, never saying a word the whole time. Femida only falls silent when the blacksmiths focus on her sword.
Day turns to evening; evening turns to night. The hours stretch long, though the work is almost done. We can finally see the outline of the sword we’ve made entirely out of palirin. The guard, hilt, and blade are all made out of the same piece of metal. It’s an enormous longsword with an extended hilt that almost makes it look like a flambard. But no, the center of gravity and balance are designed for use as a longsword.
The old master puts away his hammer, leaving the finishing touches to Isaac. Immediately understanding what needs to be done, the latter starts to mold the hilt to match the shape of his gauntlet. The sword still looks rough, though its lines gradually take on more definition and symmetry. When the time comes to sharpen it, Isaac steps into the utility room and leaves the blacksmith to close and stand guard at the door. It’s a simple, clear sign that nobody is supposed to go in until the job is done. An hour later, Isaac walks out with a razor-sharp sword.
Valkyrie sword
Two grand masters of the smithing art poured all their skill into this sword. Many years ago, it was used by a Valkyrie who always knew which side to take i
n order to emerge victorious. Nobody remembered her name, though they all remembered her sword.
Effect: 10000-18000 damage
Requirement: Unique item
Durability 500000/500000
Not enchanted
Femida has a hard time picking the monster up. In fact, it is only when she gets into the living armor and uses her amplification that she is able to work through a combination move with it.
The weapon is as long as Femida is tall, and it does incredible damage. Just to see what it can do, I ask her to use it on a tree that grew up where I slept. It’s a sprawling oak that’s already spreading its branches over the two neighboring houses. The trunk is so thick that two grown men couldn’t wrap their arms around it.
The girl puts all the anger building up in her behind the blow. The sword buries itself up to the hilt in the trunk, splitting the tree in half, ending up full-length in the ground between Femida’s legs.
“What was that for? I asked you to try out your sword, not chop the poor thing in half!”
“Oh, shut up, I didn’t even put all my force behind it. I basically just let the sword fall on its own.”
Damn, Isaac, what did you make? She could chop us all up into salad, and the tin can over there is excited about it. She’s going to open your shell up first!
When we leave the blacksmith, Isaac bows to the old master. There’s nothing but gratitude in the gesture. Memories, experience, happiness, and strong emotions—I can understand everything Isaac is trying to say. The blacksmith nods back, in turn, with deep respect. Isaac is a favorite apprentice, far more than just a random wanderer. That moment sticks with me, as does the surprising range of emotions, as it’s like the meeting between a grown son and his elderly father. It’s now that I understand how deeply Isaac yearns for the love of his parents.