As he lay on the ground bleeding, Eli had one thing to be proud of, as a message notifying him of Grogg’s death rushed into his mind. He had no idea what the effect of the orb would be, only that Stabbins had been terrified of it. Smiling, as his health dropped below five percent, he had a thought. At least I killed that smug looking Ogre. Good luck with the blight, you son of a bitch. Eli knew he would most likely bleed out from his wound. He could barely move his body. Then a sudden realization hit him. He had healing potions. Without wasting another second, he summoned a vial of red liquid to his hand, forcing himself to move as he poured it down his throat.
Eli’s health bar flickered as stacks of bleeding faded, but his bar did not refill. It was like something was preventing the potion from doing its job. The image of the bolt in his chest flashed into his mind. The position wouldn’t work unless he removed the projectile. Summoning his strength and gritting his teeth, he pulled the large bolt from his chest. Excruciating pain, followed a sickening slurping sound, as he yanked the missile from his chest. As it came loose, Eli dropped it to the floor before his world went black.
For the briefest moment, Eli found himself in the void, the world flickering in and out of focus around him. One second he could see the battle unfold as Don dodged and parried the Strigs rapier. The Turta was bleeding from what looked like a thousand tiny holes. He wouldn’t last much longer. The next moment the world was black, as Eli floated weightlessly. While in the void, he thought he saw eleven glowing orbs around him, each a different color. It was like they were watching the battle, like Eli and his friends were gladiators. A moment later, a slightly feminine cry of pain brought him back to reality. Michelle's status bar flashed, then turned grey.
Forcing himself to sit up, his health bar holding steady at ten percent, he scanned the room. The first thing he saw was the altar. Its barrier was down, but the Elf had not claimed it yet. His expression was that of an angry child who got socks as a gift. Following the staggered sounds of combat, he turned to see Don and the nameless Strig trading blows. Next to them was Michelle’s lifeless body. Green liquid was slowly pooling around her from several locations, none of which seemed fatal. Then he looked closer at her head. A river of blood streamed from what was once her left eye. The Strig had shot her in the face, turning her brain to paste.
“You son of a bitch,” The Elf screamed in the background, Shattering Eli’s concentration.
Turning to see what the man was yelling about, he found Grogg standing. Wasn’t he dead, Eli thought to himself?
“Look closely and get up off the ground.” Feminine words called out, floating in Eli’s groggy mind.
As Eli stood, listening to the advice, he peered closely at the Ogre. His enemy’s skin had turned black, small, leathery wings had sprouted from his back, and large obsidian horns had grown from his head. While his new appearance was terrifying, it wasn’t all that had changed. The name above his head now read, Grogg - LVL 12 Plague Demon.
Thick, toxic-looking foam spilled from the creature's mouth as it slammed a massive axe into a hastily created magical shield. Whatever Eli had done to the player had changed him. It had stripped him of control. As Eli’s senses returned to normal, the scent of brimstone, bile, and rotting flesh assaulted him. Attack after attack assaulted the mage, the man's former companion attacking the first living creature it saw. Arcane missiles flew at the vile creature, as small explosions of puss and seared meat filled the area near the Altar.
With the two battling each other, and Don occupying the Strig, Eli had a chance to activate the altar. With his stamina nearly emptied, he forced himself to move. The small green bar below his name drained with every step. Slowly, he inched his way to the center of the room, when he heard a meaty thud, followed by a second and third. The plague demon had wrapped his massive clawed hand around the Elf and started smashing him against the ground, blood, and other bodily fluids spraying across the room. As Eli reached his destination, a nearly lifeless wizard slammed into him, dropping his health by five percent.
If not for the Altar itself, taking most of the impact, Eli would be dead. To catch himself, he reached out his hand, latching onto something cold and solid. As he did, the same barrier that had protected the Altar, shot to life, and Eli’s mana drained. Meaty thuds pounded on the shield as the Grogg demon attempted to smash his way towards a new victim. As one of the massive hands bounced off of the shimmering light, a notification forced its way into Eli’s vision.
*Congratulations, you have found one of the Twelve Altars! By being the first to touch the Altar of The Wilds, you have gained temporary control over the Temple of Aeryntorr. The God of the Feyrealm has offered you a boon.
Choose from the following options:
Take the temple of Aeryntorr as a stronghold.
One minor wish.
Receive the Mythic Class, Aspect of Aeryntorr, and become his champion.
Receive one permanent blessing, increasing one attribute by 25. Increases attribute maximum to 125 and does not count towards your attribute threshold.
Eli screamed, “I want the wish! Cure Don Nutello and me of the blight and remove all blighted creatures from this temple!”
What he expected to happen was a magical light-show and to be healed. What actually happened was nothing. Then the shield above him cracked. A moment later, small holes formed in his vision, as if reality was burning. As the holes grew wider, an earth-shattering sound filled his mind; a siren sounding off inside his skull. After what seemed like an eternity, a tidal wave of flickering messages blocked his vision.
*ERROR_FILE_NOT_FOUND
2 (0x2)
The system cannot find the file specified.
*ERROR_INVALID_FUNCTION
1 (0x1)
Incorrect function.
*ERROR_BAD_COMMAND
22 (0x16)
The device does not recognize the command.
*ERROR_INVALID_ACCESS
12 (0xC)
The access code is invalid.
*ERROR_ACCESS_DENIED
5 (0x5)
Access Denied.
The current of messages seemed never to end, as reality shifted and burned around him. Eli’s head swam as waves of pain brought him to his knees, one hand clutching at his head, the other slowly melting into the altar. The world around him stopped. Just before the thin layer of protection around the Altar failed, the giant beast’s fist paused mid-swing. Unable to see or think, Eli collapsed, his world-shattering into thousands of tiny shards.
“Well, this is odd,” A soothing, monotonous voice sounded off around Eli as if coming from every direction.
“This isn’t right at all.” A second followed, more tempestuous and agitated, as his world a kaleidoscope of interconnected realities.
“What are we going to do about this? He’s neither a player nor NPC. Is he some sort of hybrid? More alive than an NPC, yet not connected like a Player.” Yet another voice sprang forth, booming and gravelly as if it were coming forth from the earth itself.
“He is both,” A light feminine voice added. “His consciousness is not originally from our world, yet his avatar is. As if he was transplanted here, locked in a prison of his own making.”
At the woman's words, Eli’s vision became a memory. As if she had played back every moment of his life. In a second, everything flashed before him. They paused at the moment of his death when he was stabbed.
“Pause it here,” A man said, carrying with it a threat of violence.
“Good choice, Pantheon. This is where he dies,” A woman responded, her voice breathless and hollow.
“Look closely,” The serious tone continued. “That blade. It is unusual.”
“It’s a string of code. He’s been altered by another player. Someone with access to the strings that created our reality. It is what changed him.” A new voice, one shifting from masculine to feminine, somehow young and old simultaneously.
“Hesiod, if you know something.” The voice belonging
to the one called Pantheon bellowed.
“Calm down, Panth. You’re always looking for a fight.” He paused, “We need to figure out how he got here. Rewind it further. To the beginning.” Hesiod replied.
Time stopped yet again. Eli watched, unable to do anything as his past flashed before him until there was nothing but blackness. A time before he existed. A few moments later, an image appeared. It was him, hooking a strange device to his head, and lowering himself into a large metal egg filled with gel. He was crying, clutching a picture. There was something similar to a magitech pistol in his hand. The same photo he had seen earlier, on a bridge in front of a waterfall; at that moment, he knew who he was.
He was this man, Elliot Miller. From Portland, Oregon. Creator of the Nurolink and Etarra Online. He had created the first fully immersive, massive, multi-player, online role-playing game. And his family, his real family, was dead. The image of a terrorist attack on a sky-highway flashed into his mind. A terrorist, opposing the United World Government and Full Immersion Virtual Reality, had killed his family. His father, his wife, their two children, all dead. The people he called his family in-game were backups of their minds. He had made them into NPCs and locked himself inside the game. He planned to live forever, existing in whatever reality they could be together. Yet again, they were taken from him. He had failed them twice. Or had he? As his mind processed what information he could gather, the voices started talking.
“I see. Is there a way to see if his body is still alive? Can we force him out?” The soothing feminine voice asked.
The strange, ever-shifting voice let out a sigh, “It’s too late for that. The system has already begun locking every account. Soon, none of the players will be able to log out, and this blight will spread. Unfortunately, the best we can do is try to correct his code, turn him into an actual player, and put him back. It should, theoretically, fix him. Maybe?”
“Make it so. Keres and the System have already attempted to erase me. He is the only one close enough to stop them. If that infected creature takes hold of my altar, it may doom us all.” A bestial voice was the last thing Eli heard before everything faded to black.
The last thing Eli heard was a quiet, ambiguous voice, fading out of existence. “There’s little I can do for his memory. The only thing we can do is continue to guide him.”
An eternity passed before Eli’s vision returned to normal. They had returned him to the temple, with his hand still connected to the altar, but time at a standstill.
“Well, that was close,” Aida said, her voice fearful. “No time to explain, Don’s bleeding to death, the Strig ran away, and there’s a giant plague demon who’s infected with blight about to crush your skull and take over the temple. You have about three seconds until the world starts moving again. Got it?”
“Got it,” Eli responded.
“Good.”
With two seconds left to act, Eli moved to the other side of the altar and screamed, “I want my wish!”
“Nope,” The bestial voice from his reality-altering fugue state responded.
“What do you mean, nope?”
“You’ll see.”
A moment later, the world moved, starting with a loud crash and a roar of disappointment. The monster had broken through the barrier and smashed his clawed fists into the ground where Eli had just been. Staring at the crater left behind, Eli appreciated his extra time. If he had not moved, he would be nothing more than a pink mist. As the creature spotted him, a new notification icon flashed in his vision.
“Congratulations! You’re now the proud owner of a Stronghold.” Aida called out as notifications appeared, this time blocking his vision.
*Would you like to activate your Stronghold’s defenses: Yes / No?
Eli screamed, “Fuck, please do something. Yes!”
*Congratulations! Aeryntorr, the god of nature and beasts, has given you a gift. Your stronghold’s defenses have been temporarily upgraded to level 10 / 10. Watch this.*
*Would you like to summon a temple guardian: Yes / No?
For fuck’s sake, Eli thought, Again, yes!
As he completed his selection, a massive roar echoed in the Altar room. The sound was so loud that Eli’s ears bled, and the ground shook, causing the plague demon to stumble. A moment later, a gargantuan three-headed beast appeared behind the bewildered creature. With his body refusing to move, Eli stared. As he looked at what he had just summoned, he prayed to Aeryntorr for protection. A thirty-foot three-headed dog with brindle markings peered down at the now small looking plague monster. Liquid fire poured from the mouth of its central head, like napalm saliva. Above it sat a brightly glowing green nametag, Rufio - Guardian of the Feyrealm - level 100. Its health bar read 50,000 / 50,000.
As Eli coward in terror, the demon stepped forward, slashing his massive axe at the beast heads. Noticing several flashes coming from his HUD, Eli looked to his status. His mana and stamina bars had drained to one percent as the shield around the altar sprang back to life. In the next moment, the massive canine had shattered the demon's axe with one head, as the other two filled the world with flame. Feeling something grip his foot and squeeze, Eli panicked. His enemy was bleeding out at his feet, but still alive. Then the realization hit him, where’s Don?
Chapter 35
Eli’s heart sank, his vision obscured by flame with no signs of his friend. As he thought of Don turning into an abomination like Grogg, he screamed and pulled his dagger from his boot. If his friend was caught in the giant dog's attack, he was surely dead. Nothing could survive that. Nearly blind from the light of the fire, Eli searched the ground for the still breathing elf. He needed to make sure he was dead, and he wanted to kill something. Eli’s hand met flesh, feeling a nose and mouth. The wizard's breath was warm and wet, his nose shattered, and his skull leaked thick liquid. Forcing himself to move, Eli grabbed the man by the head and dragged him near the Altar.
Still unable to see, his world surrounded by firelight, put his dagger to the man’s throat. Knowing that the elf had little time left, Eli whispered, “Koldun. No. Chris. I want you to know that I’m coming for you. Every time you come back to life, I’ll be waiting.” As he slid the blade into flesh, his words grew louder, “This is for turning me into a player.” The blade sank deeper. “This is for Eric,” He continued, using the jagged edges of the rusted blade to saw through the man’s neck. “This is for Savannah.” Blood spilled from the wound as Eli’s words grew louder, becoming screams. “This is for Kata, and all the pain you’ve caused. For me, for Don, for Wayland and for everyone you’ve pulled into your twisted game. I’m coming for you!”
As Chris’ eyes rolled into the back of his head, he formed two words, “I didn’t,” before his body went slack.
Unsure of what to do, Eli looked to his status bar. Under it, he saw a still glowing health bar under Don’s name. His friend was alive and close. Focusing on his party sense, he found the Healer's presence. Listening for screams or cries of pain was useless, as the only sound he heard was the conflagration enveloping the room in white noise.
Each moment felt like an eternity as Eli focused on his friend's health bar, watching it slowly drain, while he crawled on the floor searching. His hand met cold, motionless flesh, a hand, and his heart pounded. Shaking it, sensing no life, he dragged the body towards him, hoping to help his friend. As he pulled, he felt thin arms, and a notification appeared.
Would you like to quick loot the corpse of Koldun?: Yes / No.
With a sigh, Eli selected yes. He was happy to loot the dead adventure's gear, but his friend was out there, most likely being burned alive. As the loot vanished, leaving behind a nearly nude corpse, a flicker of blue light appeared from the corner of his eye. Eli stared at it as it moved across the floor. Then Don’s health bar increased, while bleeding and injury debuffs began to fade away. A few moments later, Don’s rough green hand crossed the threshold of the barrier, landing on Eli’s.
With every ounce of strength he had
, Eli pulled his friend into the protective dome, “What happened,” he screamed as the flames died down around them.
“The Strig, he killed Michelle,” Don replied, visible as fire illuminated him with dancing light. “Shot her in the head. Then he toyed with me, turned me into a pincushion.”
“How are you still alive, the flames?” Eli asked puzzled.
Don, who was still bleeding, extremely injured, and nearly out of mana and stamina, looked out over the room before responding, “I don’t know. They didn’t hurt.”
Their conversation was cut short, as the barking of a dog replaced the sounds of flames. A moment later, the barrier fell, leaving them unprotected. Eli turned, expecting to see the massive creature chewing on the remains of a charged plague demon. What he saw was different, unexpected. Before him was the charred corpse of Grogg, the Adventurer turned monstrosity. Next to it was a normal-sized dog, with a single head, barking at the corpse in victory.
Eli stared at the beast in confusion. It was the same beautiful brown, grey, and black brindle color as the godlike creature that saved them. Somehow it had shrunk, standing below Eli’s waist. The calm looking animal that watched over them was nearly indistinguishable from any other breed of a large dog, and she was cute. As if the animal knew Eli had a fondness for dogs, she opened her mouth, letting spittle of molten lava fall to the floor.
“While you’re safe, for now, I think you’re forgetting something,” Aida spoke, startling Eli.
What is it now? We killed their leader and took over the temple. We did it; we did a thing, and we won. Eli responded, exhausted, and wanting a break. And we still have a few days left to figure out how to cure ourselves.
Ascension Page 44