Rise of the Grandmaster

by Bradford Bates

  A grin stretched across his lips as the inn came into view. It might not look like much, but Ernie was ok, and Gaston was growing on him. Replace the door, give the building a fresh coat of paint, and the place wouldn’t actually be half bad.

  Tim started walking up the steps but paused when a voice called from the shadows, “Excuse me, sir.” A man stepped out of the murky night, dripping wet from the rain. “Are you the healer they call Tim?”

  He’d almost made it inside, but in a flash like lightning, his hopes for dinner and sleep had been thwarted. “I am.”

  “I hate to bother you, sir.” The man looked at the ground, wringing his hands with nervous energy. “But it’s my mother…she’s too sick to walk down here.”

  The man looked up, his expression stuck somewhere between anguish and hope. “Do you think… I mean, would you consider…coming to our home?”

  There was no way Tim could make a habit out of this, but if he was truly interested in healing these people and building this neighborhood up, he’d have to make the occasional house call. Plus, the man had a point. The sickest among them, or the most grievously injured, wouldn’t be able to make it to his healing shed.

  “What’s your name?” Tim asked, reaching out and clasping the man’s shoulder.

  “Marvin, Marvin Tanner, sir.”

  Tim smiled at the man, hoping to ease his nerves. “I’m going to come with you, Marvin, but I want you to keep this between us for now.” He held the man’s gaze. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes, of course. Whatever you need.” He looked around as if maybe Tim were playing some kind of joke on him. “Are you really coming?” He waited, mouth hanging open, eyes almost frantic.

  “Lead the way.”

  Marvin let out a whoop of joy. “Thank you so much. This means the world to me.”

  Tim smiled at the man’s back as he started walking down one of the side streets. “I’m more than happy to help.” He thought briefly about what he’d said to the man moments before and decided to clarify. “Marvin, if someone really needs my help, it’s okay to tell them to find me at the inn.”

  “Just tell whoever you send to take it easy on me. I’m new to the area and still trying to find my footing.” It wasn’t going to take much longer for him to relax. This side of town and The Blue Dagger Inn were already starting to feel like home.

  Marvin glanced over his shoulder, his eyes filled with sadness. “Aren’t we all?” He kept trudging down the muddy road. “Trying to find our footing, that is.”

  It was funny if Tim really thought about it. He’d felt the exact same way in the real world, always wondering what was coming next. Your whole young life was set up that way. You had to get to high school so you could get to college so you could get a job so you could buy more stuff. There was never any secure footing. In the real world, you were always racing to the next thing.

  Despite only being in the game for a few days, things felt different here. Tim thought he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted to accomplish. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get there, but he had time to figure it all out. Maybe his half-elven princess would have an idea or two about how he should proceed.

  He’d been so busy today he hadn’t even thought about checking his messages. How could he not have looked to see if Sierra had messaged him? She was the reason he was here, or at least, one of the reasons. Tim pulled up his user interface as he followed Marvin down the street.

  No new messages were waiting for him, so he typed up a quick message to his girl.

  This game’s intense, huh? With work and the early quests, it’s easy to lose track of time. Let’s catch a drink sometime this week.

  It wasn’t his best work, and it definitely wasn’t poetry, but the message didn’t come off as sounding needy, which was a bonus. He wanted to be with Sierra, but he didn’t want to smother her. They were both going to be searching for their own ways to conquer the game for a bit, but when they got together, the world better watch out.

  With the message sent, all Tim could do was wait for a reply. He shut down his user interface and continued to follow Marvin deeper into the slums. Maybe his next purchase should be some kind of waterproof cloak. It only seemed to rain in the slums, but this is where he lived, so buying a cloak seemed like a prudent investment.

  The streets grew even darker as the torches along the sides of the road grew farther and farther apart. There were more shadows than light on the street. Tim hadn’t expected that the city could get much worse, but he’d been wrong. The people down here were living in what amounted to thatched huts.

  Marvin stopped in front of a dilapidated one-story house. He opened the door and paused in the entryway to light a candle. Motioning for Tim to follow him inside, Marvin moved out of the doorway. “Mom’s in the bedroom.”

  Water dripped from his damp hair, and Marvin’s smile almost seemed like more of a leer in the flickering candlelight. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

  Tim smiled as he closed the door behind him. “It’s no problem. I’m happy to help.”

  Turning away from Tim, Marvin led them deeper into the house. There was a closed door ahead, and candlelight flickered underneath the threshold. Marvin moved toward the door and knocked gently.

  “Mother, we’re here.”

  Tim couldn’t make out the response, but Marvin must have heard something because he slowly opened the door. Moving into the room, he filled a glass of water by the bedside table, then made his way to the other side of the bed so Tim would have room to work.

  This isn’t going to take long, and then I can finally get some food and a nap before work.

  “Ma’am, I’m just going to pull the blanket back. It helps if I can see the wound.” Tim inched toward the bed and wrapped his fingers delicately around the blanket.

  Tim pulled the blanket away, noticing a flash of orange before the pain blossomed in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. What in the fuck was happening? Looking down, Tim was surprised to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his chest like he was starring in a horror movie.

  But this wasn’t a movie.

  Tim stumbled away from the bed, trying to cast healing orb.

  Marvin grabbed his arms from behind. “We can’t have any of that.” He laughed.

  The man with an orange sash around his waist climbed from the bed, his bald, sweaty head shimmering in the light. Tim’s eyes moved toward his sparkling golden earring as the man leaned over him.

  Baldy placed one hand on Tim’s chest and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the grip of the dagger. Tim wanted to scream, he wanted to cry out, but all he could manage was a weak trickle of bloody spit.

  “Fuck you!” Tim felt his lips moving, but no sound came out. He was too weak to stop what was about to happen. How could it end like this? He was just getting started!

  “Not so smart now, are you, boy?” the man with the orange sash gloated. “Death comes for us all, some sooner than others.” He pulled the dagger free with a wet, sucking sound.

  The man wiped the blade off on his robe before tucking it behind his back. Marvin let his arms go, and Tim collapsed to the floor. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move. The world started growing dimmer around him, then everything went black.

  So this is what it feels like to die…

  Chapter Twenty

  “Please take a number and find an open seat,” a female voice cooed from the overhead speakers.

  Speakers?

  Where the hell was he?

  Tim had just been in a house trying to help a sick woman. Tim’s hands shot to his chest, patting every inch of it as he looked down to confirm what he was feeling. His chest was fine. There wasn’t even any blood on his t-shirt.

  But the man with the orange sash? It had seemed so real.

  The Etheric Coast is a game, he reminded himself, and yet he couldn’t stop looking down at his chest. Fuck it. He wouldn’t feel right until he checked. Tim lifted his shirt and looked
down at his bare chest. No ragged hole where a dagger used to be, so everything was fine.

  Moving toward the little red dispenser, Tim took a number and found an empty seat against the wall. The entire room was empty. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long. If he was going to lose two full days’ worth of experience, he needed to get back into the game as quickly as possible. The ticket in his hand informed him that he was number one hundred and seventy-three.

  A chime sounded, and the same female voice spoke. “Now calling number one.”

  Tim looked around the empty lobby. This is going to take forever, and there isn’t even anyone else here. He started scanning the tables for a magazine, or anything that would help him occupy the time.

  A door opened somewhere to his right, and a woman stepped out. She was wearing a black business suit, cut to fit her like she knew the tailor personally. “Just screwing with you.”

  She held out her hand. “I’m Barbara, your NPC Corp caseworker. If you’re here,” she opened her arms to encompass the entire lobby, “it means you have a little problem with dying.”

  Barbara turned away from him, opening the door behind her. “Why don’t we head to my office and chat about it.”

  Tim started to follow her, then stopped. “Wait, are we still in the game?”

  Barbara looked over her shoulder. “You’re still plugged in if that’s what you mean.” She stopped at the third door on the left. “This is where players come when they die, or every now and then for a psychological checkup.”

  She lowered her voice. “Gotta make sure you don’t crack.”

  After his recent brush with death, Tim knew exactly what she meant. It wasn’t just that dying in the game could make you crack. It was that the whole experience felt so real. It would be easy to lose yourself in the game. Imagine building a fortune and watching it crumble; people killed themselves over things like that. Was it wrong that he felt better knowing the company was keeping an eye out for them?

  Even if it was just to save their own asses.

  Barbara stepped into the office, her voice drifting behind her. “You’ll get used to your little visits here, although I’ve heard it can be quite a shock after being in the game for a while.”

  Tim entered her office and closed the door behind him. He took a seat on the opposite side of the desk from Barbara, feeling almost like he was back in Lady Briarthorn’s study. Looking up, Tim met her eyes. “So, what do we do now?”

  Barbara’s fingers tapped the desk as she watched Tim. “This is where I prepare you to roll a new character.”

  Tim flinched as if he’d been slapped. He had known it was a possibility, but it seemed so unfair. He didn’t die in combat, so maybe there was some wiggle room. “Are there any other possibilities?”

  “Humm, they told me to expect this, but they didn’t say you’d be so darn cute when you asked about it.” Barbara turned to her laptop and started typing. She tapped her finger on the screen. “It seems like it’s your lucky day.”

  Tim’s heart rate started to climb. This had to be good news, but he’d fallen victim to more than one game developer’s broken promises. “I like the sound of that.” He leaned forward in his chair, hoping for the best.

  “Because you’re under level five,” Barbara snorted, clearly not impressed by how Tim had been spending his time in the game, “I can offer you the chance to be resurrected whole.”

  Tim started to grin as he leaned back in the chair. Being resurrected with all of his skills and items was more than he could have hoped for. “Can I ask you a question, Barbara?”

  “You just did.” She sat back in her seat, trying to suppress a giggle. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It was something one of my old teachers used to say.”

  She tapped the screen of her laptop a few times and turned back to Tim. “You can ask me anything you want. I’m your caseworker, after all. If you can’t ask me questions, who else can you talk to?”

  Turning away from her screen, Barbara refocused her attention on Tim. “What’s on your mind?”

  “When I die, normally I’d lose all my stuff, right?”

  Barbara looked bored. “Yes.”

  “And this is the same for every player?” Tim’s mind was already starting to ponder a way he could make money off the problem before she answered.

  “Yes, unless they’ve reached level ten and become an adventurer.” Barbara watched him with an appraising eye. “Or they manage to die before level five, like you.”

  Maybe there was a way he could start a bank using passwords so people working for NPC Corp could retain some of their wealth if they died. Tim was coming to the realization that it was pretty easy to bite the big one in The Etheric Coast. All he had done was deliver a few letters, and the NPCs had taken the time to lure him into an ambush and kill him.

  Tim would have to be much more careful in the future. He’d also have to reexamine his philosophy on in-home visits, at least until he could protect himself, or hire someone else to do the protecting. Until then, all healing would have to take place in his shed. If you couldn’t walk there, you couldn’t be saved.

  Not a very classy motto, but one he’d have to live by for now.

  Tim would also have to deal with the men who had killed him. There was no way he could let that slide. The man in the orange sash and Marvin had to be dealt with, but he needed a few more skills before he could think about putting them in the ground.

  Still, Tim wouldn’t feel safe until the two men had been dealt with. There was no way he could go to work every day and come home to heal people at night, knowing those two men were out there.

  And how could he revitalize the slums if he couldn’t even keep himself safe?

  He’d find a way. This defeat was exactly what he needed to push himself harder.

  Barbara was looking at him with an expression that told him she’d been talking for some time, and she knew he’d been completely tuning her out while his imagination ran wild.

  Tim looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, can you say that again?”

  “I asked if you are ready to head back into the game now.” Barbara looked at him expectantly, as if hoping for more than the slack-jawed expression she’d been greeted with last time she’d asked the same question.

  Tim felt antsy; there was so much to do back in the game. Barbara shouldn’t have had to ask him more than once. “I’m ready.”

  Barbara tapped a button on her desk, and the door to her office opened. “Try not to die again. As pleasant as this meeting was, I don’t want to do it again soon.”

  Tim stood up and looked at the doorway. A black vortex of energy pulsed and thrummed where the hallway used to be. What’s with this game and doors? He paused in the entrance to look down at his uninjured body. What he should have asked Barbara was if his resurrection was going to hurt.

  “Only one way to find out,” he whispered.

  Tim locked eyes with the woman and jumped backward into the portal. “Geronimo!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The cobbles under Tim’s felt like a bouncy castle.

  The sensation faded quickly, but now he knew why the other guy had thrown up. Five more seconds of that, and he would have been down on his knees, dry-heaving in the courtyard. Shit, he’d never die again, just to avoid the sensation of coming back.

  Sure, it was cool jumping from Barbara’s office right back into The Etheric Coast, but the hangover wasn’t worth it. Tim remembered his first day in the game and decided to take his first steps slowly. He wobbled on shaky legs like a newborn calf, but then found solid footing.

  Maybe this will help. Tim quickly cast cleanse on himself, followed by healing orb. Surprisingly, the cleanse took away the worst of his symptoms. If cleanse worked as well on real hangovers as it did on digital ones, he could probably make a fortune at the more popular drinking establishments.

  Tim thought about the sales pitch for his new wonder cure. Imagine being able to get drunk and rowdy with
the boys, only to walk outside and become instantly sober, so the old lady would be none the wiser. Or maybe your man didn’t like it when you took a little nip when he was at work? No problem, Tim had a cure for that. Have a dungeon to take down, but spent too many of the wee hours trying to outdrink a centaur?

  “Tim’s got a cure for that too!” He chanted like a late-night car salesman on local tv.

  A smile spread across his face as he pulled up his user interface. He was still level four, and all of his skills were intact. Even his coins were there. He wondered if the game just took his loot back from the NPCs. Tim’s smile turned into a grin as he imagined the man in the orange sash trying to pay for a drink and realizing all his money was gone.

  “It’s like it never happened.”

  Tim closed his user interface and started walking out of the New Player Courtyard. He paused in the archway to watch the street for a moment, soaking in the warmth of the sun’s rays. A woman walking by stopped across from him and stared at him with wide eyes like he was taking a dump on the street. It looked as if she was torn between running away and calling for help.

  Tim spun around looking behind him, expecting the man in the orange sash to come for him again, dagger in hand, but there was no one there. Looking down, he realized the front of his robe was covered in blood. It must have looked like he’d just been stabbed, or worse yet, that he’d murdered someone else.

  The guards on this side of town might be more inclined to take an interest in my bloody clothes.

  Tim quickly replaced the robes with the shirt and pants in his inventory. He wondered if the stains would come out of his robes if he re-equipped them, but now wasn’t the right time to find out. Hopefully, the inventory swap would also get rid of the hole over his heart. Otherwise, he was going to need a new set of robes, regardless of whether the blood came out.

  Screw it; he could afford a basic robe if he needed one. Tim walked out of the starting area and began making his way to the slums when his alarm went off. What the fuck? Wait, it was sunny out, but that alarm couldn’t mean what he thought it did. A quick check of his user interface confirmed the worst.