by N H Paxton
“Is for own good.” I smirked a bit, thinking about drinking them all under the table. I was Russian, after all. I could easily hold more liquor than they could, combined.
“Oh, is that a smile? Is Lord Vlad thinking about it?” Eberand raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to me. “Eh? Eh?” He rolled his eyebrows in a strange, caterpillar-like way, and I broke.
“Okay, fine, will go. Only one drink, though. Vlad must have clear thoughts for morning.” I sighed as heavily and dramatically as I could when I finished the sentence.
We found the tavern without too much trouble. The building was constructed on the outside in the traditional Murk Elf way—trees, stones, and thatch. We stepped through the door and were assaulted by the sounds of revelry, confusion, and a lot of chaos. A huge number of people had decided to come here to celebrate, it seemed.
The tavern was very heavily influenced by modern, if you could call it that, designs. The tables were all fine wood polished to a heady luster, high-backed chairs were filled with patrons, and more than a dozen elegant oil lamps hung from the ceiling in appropriate places to provide ample lighting.
“Yes! This place is awesome!” Garret threw his arms in the air and immediately made his way to the bar in the back. Eberand let out a chuckle as he followed, weaving his large frame between unbalanced chairs and tipsy patrons.
“Dude, I am so stoked! Let’s get hammered!” Ken walked in a strange, staggered way as he followed after the others. Anya and I stayed at the door for just a moment longer before looking at one another and shrugging.
We found a place to sit that would accommodate all of us, a small round table in the back corner, next to the bar itself. Anya and I sat down next to one another as the others came to the table, carrying mugs of drinks. Eberand plopped down a large flagon in front of me, then another in front of Anya. The top rim threatened to overflow with a foamy beverage. I peeked into the flagon and was rewarded with a hoppy scent and a golden glow to the liquid.
“Cheers, mates!” Garret raised his mug, and we all did the same, tapping them together at the middle of the table. There was some spilling of ale, but it was well received.
The time went by quite quickly, and before I knew it, we had amassed quite the pile of flagons at the table. I had downed seven on my own, putting the other men of the group to shame. Ken had passed out at the table after his third and was snoring loudly, his face squished against the wood grain of the tabletop. I noticed a debuff in the corner of my vision and focused on it, which was hard, because the alcohol was starting to affect my faculties.
<<<>>>
Debuff Added
Inebriated: You’ve had sufficient alcohol to set your mind to spinning and your body to wobbling. Your ability to focus and maintain inhibitions is reduced by 15%; duration, 10 minutes.
<<<>>>
Well, there it was—I was drunk. I looked over at Anya, who had grown quite quiet after her second flagon. Her cheeks and nose were red, and her face was in a bit of a pout. She seemed the kind to be quiet when drunk, which was fine. Eberand and Garret were making enough noise for all of us.
“Hey guys!” A familiar, yet unrecognizable voice floated toward our table from the crowd of bodies.
“Zeno!” Garret practically jumped over the table trying to get to him. He tripped over Ken’s chair in the process, spilling himself on the floor. The clank of his armor smacking the ground drew a loud laugh from a few nearby tables.
“Man, it’s good to be back to life.” I turned to see Zeno smoothing his robes out. He looked none the worse for wear, aside from having bags under his eyes, which really just made him look tired. “Got room for me?”
“Bro, we’ve always got room for you!” Eberand snagged an empty chair from a nearby table and spun it skillfully on the floor under his palm, then popped it next to his own. “Boom, chair. Lemme get you a drink!” Eberand turned quickly and nearly fell in doing so. He laughed it off and headed to the bar.
“Is good to see you living.” I nodded at Zeno as he sat down.
He gave me a soft smile, then looked around the table.
“It’s good to be back. Everyone seems to be having a good time. Did we win?” He smiled wide, like his question wasn’t even really a question, but more of a statement or a foregone conclusion.
“Yeah, of course we did. We stomped those Imperial shits into the dirt!” Garret had managed to pick himself back up and was leaning heavily on the table, his arm the only thing keeping his swaying head from falling over and smacking the table.
“Good, good. So, Ebenguard, eh? That’s cool. Am I still in the group?” His smile faded as he searched our faces. He was clearly concerned that he wouldn’t be accepted.
“Yes, must be part. No choice.” I raised a stiff eyebrow as high as I could, then couldn’t keep up my stoic facade and cracked, laughing. “No, no, is fine. You are part of Ebenguard, always.” I put my hand out, expecting him to shake it, but instead he slapped my palm with his.
“Great, that’s really great. Sorry I died.” He shook his head, but I could see a small smile under his concern.
“Drink, make merry, is good night.” I raised my mostly empty flagon at him, then downed the rest of it.
“So, anyone know what happened to Jack?” Anya’s voice was cold, distant. She had a very thoughtful look on her face.
“He died, yo.” A voice from another table called over.
“What?” Everything in me was shocked. I dropped my flagon and nearly fell over in my chair. “Jack died?”
“Yeah man, he died fighting that Carrera dude. Something about permanently killing that filthy bastard.” The man, who was a tall Wode with lengthy black hair, pressed a flagon to his lips after he finished his sentence. His bright red chainmail armor was covered in scratches and grooves.
“Did not know.” I shook my head at the realization, not sure how to feel. I had thought that perhaps the two who were fighting on the wall at Rowanheath were Jack and this Carrera individual, but I hadn’t been entirely certain.
“It’s cool, bro. Not many people knew. I was on the wall when I saw him jump off—took Carrera with him.” He shrugged, then turned back to his table like what he had said had no gravity.
“That’s... awful.” Anya’s voice broke, and a tear rolled down her cheek. I didn’t know if she was always emotional or if she was just a quiet, emotional drinker.
“Hard to accept, Jack died killing mortal enemy.” I rolled it around in my head for a bit longer while finishing my eighth ale. I slammed the empty flagon down on the table. “Jack is amazing. Number one hero, good man.”
“That’s intense, dude. But I’m impressed as hell. Hey, let’s get another round of drinks, yeah?” Garret stood up, faltered, saved himself, then took a single step forward. He collapsed onto his face with a resounding clang. And that was where he stayed.
“Well, he’s down.” Zeno smirked as he grabbed the flagon that Garret had left on the table and finished it off in a single swig.
“And I’ve got more—oh, hey, Garret’s on the floor.” Eberand stepped over Garret, put the round of drinks onto the table, lifted Garret off of the floor, and sat him in a chair. “There ya go, buddy.” Eberand patted Garret on the head as he sat down in his own chair.
“Has been fun, but should get rest.” I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms up. I was very tired, and I very much doubted I was going to get a considerable amount of sleep. I stood, gathering myself carefully.
“Oh, yes, me too.” Anya slowly pushed her chair away from the table and stood, her legs slightly unsteady. She held onto the table for just a moment before taking a short step away. She teetered for an instant, then fell into me. I caught her, but we both collapsed to the floor. Gods her armor was heavy. The entire ordeal elicited a series of laughs from the Ebenguard.
“Anya, am crushed. Please to be moving.” I wriggled out from under her and regained my feet. I helped her stand as well. It took every bit of strength I had to ge
t her back to her feet.
“Oh, I’m quite sorry. Let me repay your kindness.” Anya leaned toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“No, is not nec—mmmmf.” My words were cut off as she kissed me deeply. I fought in vain to resist. The remainder of the awake Ebenguard hooted and howled, as did a few of the nearby patrons. I managed to pry my mouth from hers with considerable effort. She gave me a disappointed look as a reward.
“Damn, dude, get a room!” the Wode from earlier chimed in, a laugh on his lips as he said it.
“Lord Vlad, let’s get out of here. Can you, uh, take me to my room?” Anya leaned heavily on my shoulder, her staggering frame making it difficult to move at all.
“Yes, where is?” I really had no idea where any of the Ebenguard stayed here in Yunnam. I imagined I would eventually have a barracks for them in the upper floors of the engineering workshop, but they had to be staying somewhere in the meantime.
“Wherever you’re staying, I hope.” She gave me a very sultry wink, or at least I thought that was what she was doing. She may have been experiencing some kind of eye issue from the alcohol.
“You do not have room?” Stupid Vlad, very stupid.
“Uh-huh, yeah, but I can’t remember where it’s at.” She held a hand to her forehead as we walked out of the tavern, my shoulder under her arm keeping her from falling.
As we left, the remainder of the Ebenguard bid us goodbye.
“Okay, can stay with me tonight. Vlad will sleep on floor, give Anya plenty of space. Is good plan.” I walked her to the engineering workshop, leaving the sounds of the tavern to fade into the night.
The stairs at the workshop proved a considerable challenge. After several attempts, a few of which were catastrophic failures, I managed to get myself and Anya to the second floor, where a large apartment was present.
“Oh, was not expecting.” I looked around as I talked to myself. The room was well furnished with a sofa, a few tables, a dining set, and a small kitchen. There was an area that was walled off that was the bedroom.
I carried Anya into the bedroom and placed her gently on the bed, making sure to be as gentlemanly as possible. There was nothing I wanted less at this time than to have rumors spreading about.
“There, is good.” I nodded to her sleeping figure as I left the room and closed the door stealthily. “Sleep well,” I whispered.
She was a lovely woman, with a kind heart and a will of steel. She clearly had an attraction to me that was far more intense than I had originally thought. She was aggressive, desiring a connection I just wasn’t prepared for.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure I was okay with having a relationship at this point, what with having lost Ina just a few days ago. The heartache from that situation was still weighing heavily on me, and having any kind of relationship now would just seem churlish. No, I still needed to grieve, I needed to honor Ina’s memory properly.
I sat on the small sofa, turning over the events of the past days. I had absolutely no idea what was going to come of anything that I was experiencing. But there was one thing for sure: if I stayed with the Crimson Alliance, there would be nothing but excitement ahead.
I curled up on the cushions of the sofa, closed my eyes, and slipped into sleep.
“Vlad.” There was a voice that echoed into my head, not so much through my ears, but inside my brain.
“Who is now? Just want to sleep.” I could feel myself awake, but still asleep, like a lucid dream.
“It’s time to awaken a new potential.” The voice was so familiar, so entrenched in my memories, but I couldn’t speak its name.
“New potential? What is?” I found myself sitting at a workbench, a mortar and pestle in front of me. Off to the sides were test tubes and various glassware. Before me sat a potion in a glass vial. I knew a dozen rare ingredients went into making it, but I didn’t know which ones. I could feel the knowledge somewhere in my head. The liquid within the vial glowed a brilliant red, so bright it was almost blinding.
“Creation.” The voice faded away like a whisper on the wind. I tried to hold onto the knowledge that was just out of reach. I grabbed for it, I struggled, but found myself empty again.
I awoke to the sun high in the sky, my body on the floor of the apartment, curled up and covered in sweat. On the floor in front of my eyes, lying on its side, sat a marble mortar and pestle engraved with the word “Create.”
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OCTOBER, 2042
New worlds get new kings, and that’s exactly what Abby thinks she’s found in her boss’ hacked code.
With a cataclysmic asteroid careening toward Earth, the VRMMORPG project, Viridian Gate Online, has become more than just a game, and Abby thinks her boss, Robert Osmark, wants to be more than just its founding father.
Now, Abby holds a hacked key to the kingdom that could earn her a punishment worse than death. To uncover the secret that drug lords and corrupt politicians paid millions for, Abby must dive into the game she helped create and team up with one of its AI creations. It’s a race against the clock as she tries to discover what’s hidden in the secret code before Osmark can crown himself ruler over all that remains of humanity.
ONE: Apocalypse Hacking
THE CLICKS AND CLACKS of my keystrokes reverberating off the empty chairs and standing desks at Osmark Tech were the only sounds, aside from the hammering of my heart. I’d been afraid before, working for Osmark, but never this scared. If I was right, they would do much worse than kill me for what I was about to commit.
My cursor lingered over the “deploy to prod” button. Under normal working hours, my fresh lines of code would’ve been peer-reviewed, sent through the sanity checker, unit tested, then deployed to staging. But eight months straight of crunch coupled with the impending doom of the planet left everyone eager to get to their capsules when Osmark dismissed us not an hour before.
I glanced around the large open space one more time to ensure everyone had in fact gone, my heart still jackhammering away. My finger trembled as I pressed and held the left-click down. I could still back out, forget what I’d read, forget I had seen what Osmark had planned.
“No one else is going to stop him. You must figure out what these ‘scrolls of allegiance’ are, and why so many high-rolling wretches paid out the wazoo for them,” I reminded myself, then inhaled deeply.
“Plus, you spent your entire overtime bonus check sending Jack that capsule. You’re gonna need something more than just the end of the world to break the ice when you meet up again, and you know how much Jack loves a good dunge
on crawl. If that’s what this is. Who knows what billionaire drug dealers pay millions for in a virtual world? It could be full of godmode codes that somehow subvert our anti-cheating protocols.”
My hand curled to a ball as I retracted my finger, doing the undoable. The screen read, “Committing new code to production. Estimated Completion —> 280 seconds.”
The building trembled at the sound of a muffled crash, accompanied by terrified shouts, and my gaze shot past the screen to the fading light outside. It had been a while since I took more than a fleeting glance out a window, a few days at least. Most of us had elected to stay indefinitely at Osmark Tech since the global announcement of 213 Astraea weeks ago, as it was just safer here.
I walked to the massive UV-protected glass framed by columns of wide-leafed plants that hadn’t been watered in weeks and looked down the eight stories to the streets below.
Chaos. That was the only word to describe it. Someone had driven a truck through the screaming mob, trying to ram down the doors of Osmark Technologies, but they had failed. A fiery, smoking wreck lay at the foot of our building, and civilians scrambled to get out of blast range.
When Osmark ordered security improvements for the front desk a few months ago, reinforcing the walls and windows of the bottom floors, I thought it was just because of the recent mass shootings, to protect us from something like that. Not something like this. Not trying to protect us from desperate cries for salvation.
213 Astraea, nine miles of pure destruction, was what they were terrified of. A mass of rock and ice carving a path through space on a collision course with our little speck of paradise: Earth. I was scared too, but less so. I knew I had a chamber waiting in the basement where I would hopefully transition into the game I’d been helping develop for the last four years. A lifeboat for humanity. Viridian Gate Online.
A lifeboat that had cost me six precious months with my father and being there for his dying breath. It’s critical, Osmark had said, life altering. I wish he’d told us all the truth sooner—it would make resenting him for missing my father’s funeral a little harder. But no. Osmark was a deplorable man and a terrifying boss. He’d known about Astraea for months and refused to tell us until he realized DevOps wouldn’t complete until it was too late. He told us a few weeks before the global announcement, some kind of incentive to work harder.