Battle Spire

by Michael R. Miller

  I swiveled to check the situation of Azrael’s men. Though I was much closer now, I was still a good way back from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the gatehouse proper. The players were pretty spread out but that was where the good news ended. The furthest ballista was so far away I’d never reach it with ranged attacks, and the closest one still looked to be at the edge of my reach. Running up those stairs to get into better range would mean being ganked by about six players at once.

  “The assault force is in range of the ballistae,” Ellie said in a panic.

  Without the luxury of time, I focused on the closest ballista. Its operator had no idea I was there; nor, it seemed, did anyone around him, as they were too focused on the assaulting players. It may have been out of my normal range, but not out of my launcher’s range.

  Picking a surviving vial of slime from off my belt, I shoved it into the launcher’s chamber, then aimed and fired. Green splattered all over the ballista, its operator wringing his hands of the stuff as his face contorted from shock and rage.

  I followed with a grenade from the launcher.

  The extra 20% boost to the blast radius and damage alone did wonders; when combined with the slime, it was a fireworks display.

  Wood burned, reducing the ballista to a smoking husk. The damage caused was doubled by the dual hit of fire and heated slime, and the operator screamed as he ignited. He was too high-level for it to kill him, but it dented his health and I’d bet he had a scorched debuff to whittle more off over time.

  “One down!”

  “Zoran, the other one!”

  I loaded slime into the launcher again and took aim but the red impact radius wouldn’t push as far as I needed it to. Even moving forward, I was well out of range.

  The bolt of the second ballista flew.

  “No!” Ellie’s scream was deafening.

  Rooted in horror, I could only watch on uselessly as the bolt ran a mounted player through. He’d been wearing full plate armor with a holy aura that should have helped protect him. But it hadn’t helped. The unknown player was knocked from their stead, and already dead before they hit the ground.

  Dead. Whoever they were – man, woman, child or adult – they were really, truly dead.

  Ellie wailed a primal, broken wail. “It’s my fault. I’ll go now – there’s no point—”

  “No,” I cried. I was shocked, of course; still utterly dismayed it had actually happened, but now it had, and someone had died, I felt nothing but fury. “No way. This bastard has to pay and unless you’re still here to stop him, he’ll win.”

  The ballista operator was already loading another bolt.

  My position had been given away since the destruction of the first ballista and a group of melee enemies were heading my way, leaving their ranged guys behind to take potshots at the assaulting force. I couldn’t fight on two fronts, so I had to eliminate one of them; for now.

  Earth rune in hand, I poured mana into the spell – all my mana. It wasn’t for my benefit. I found a spot at the edge of my range to place it, and sent it running south across the gatehouse parapets, all 1150 mana worth of solid stone.

  Rock Wall

  38 feet long

  Empowered +5 feet, +3 seconds to duration

  +4% from gear effects (+1.7 feet)

  Duration: 10 seconds

  The wall covered more than half the gatehouse and rose to block the ballista’s line of sight. Players standing ready at the boiling oil pots leapt back in alarm as sheer rock suddenly sprang up from nowhere, knocking the bubbling cauldrons askew. Hot oil streaked across the gatehouse to sizzle the feet of the defenders, sending most of them retreating down the stairs to the south side, as well as finishing off the player who’d controlled the first ballista.

  I mentally ticked down to twenty-two.

  Sadly, the remaining ballista was immune to the hot oil, raised as it was upon a stone platform. Safe where he was, the operator tried to puncture the wall but the bolt pinged harmlessly off it.

  Yet, I had little time to savor the play. Three melee guys were still heading my way, all the faster to avoid the oil burning them.

  I prepped the stairs, firing slime from the launcher to cover the descent and threw the last vial on my belt to coat the wall before the staircase. I then sent a dozen caltrops afterwards, chucked down a gnomish landmine, and loaded a bolt into my crossbow. Finally, I launched a grenade their way. Boosted damage or not, one grenade didn’t do much on its own.

  The timer on the rock wall ticked down; only seconds remained.

  If I couldn’t kill my way through these warriors and rogues, I’d have to find another way around. But there was no other way, and nothing I could grapple onto. Nothing from where I was standing at leas—

  An insane idea then came to me. Well, seemingly more insane than everything else that had happened that day.

  I chugged a potion that restored my mana to full as the melee players started to slip and slide down the stairs. They ended in a confused heap, granting me a window of opportunity.

  I sheathed my crossbow and took an air rune in hand. Channeling mana and facing my palm down between my feet, I shifted my weight forward and seven hundred mana entered the spell, creating a Gale Blast which I prayed would have a good kick behind it.

  One of the rogues then emerged from the slime and caltrops. Daggers drawn, he ran at me with a dash ability, his menacing eyes meeting mine. That was when he stepped on the landmine and disappeared in a burst of flames and shrapnel.

  “Gotta watch where you’re going,” I told him.

  Then I released the air rune, blasting down against the stone and launching myself skywards.

  Gale Blast

  Knockback range 18 feet

  +4% from gear effects (+0.7 feet)

  The rush was sickening and the sense of weightlessness alarming as my legs became dead weights under me. I raced towards the clouds, drawing stares from both defending and attacking players alike. I could see for miles up here, but I only had eyes for the scene directly below me – the rock wall crumbling into nothingness and the player reloading the ballista.

  It ended all too soon and I began to free fall.

  Having angled myself, I’d traveled forward and was now over the gatehouse, knowing that I’d soon be a smear on the stone slabs if I didn’t make my next shot.

  Through some miracle I did.

  The grappling hook gripped the ballista itself and I hurtled towards it, landing astride the operating player. He, a human monk, was a picture of surprise, then of pain, when my foot connected with his face. The damage was minimal, but I unslung my crossbow, activated Desperate Shot and took a headshot at point-blank range for a massive critical hit.

  Justhereforajob – Monk – level 27 dies – 180 EXP

  Twenty-one goons remaining.

  I wasn’t sure if my heart could take much more of this. In the real world, I must surely be sweating profusely, soaking that dingey mattress completely through. Inside the game, my instincts were commanding my every move.

  Still standing on top of the ballista, I twisted around and launched a grenade back the way I’d come. A satisfying explosion followed as I struck home, which lit up the melee players in lava slime and rewarded me with another kill notification.

  Twenty guys left.

  I straightened myself, facing west towards the white shard that was the Imperial Spire.

  “Take the ballista out,” Ellie screeched.

  “Not yet.”

  I’d just noticed two players approaching from the southern staircase. Hot oil still covered most of the gatehouse, but this was a heavily armored warrior – a tank – along with a priest – a pocket healer for him – and they’d find the oil damage trivial.

  I should have blown the ballista and got out of there; instead, I dropped down and began pushing it around, turning it to face the southern staircase.

  “Zoran, don’t risk it, you can do it. Just run.”

  I shook my head, gr
itted my teeth and grabbed the oversized trigger with both hands.

  The warrior crested the top of the stairs, the priest directly behind him and his giant shield. A shield that did nothing to prevent a bolt the size of a spear thrumming through it, through the warrior and into the healer it was supposed to protect. The pair died from that single shot.

  “That’s eighteen!”

  “Hurry,” Ellie urged, “The patrol players are coming. You’re going to get boxed in.”

  Knowing she was right, I fought against the sudden, wild urge to continue the fight.

  I backed away from the ballista, drawing a fire rune and pouring the remains of my mana into it. The wood caught fire and I turned to get out of dodge.

  Leaping over the hot oil to take as few hits as possible from it, I jumped the last stretch right off the edge of the gatehouse. Twisting in mid-air, I fired the grappling hook to catch the ledge, which arrested my fall just ten feet off the ground.

  Dizzy with relief and hammering nerves, I lowered myself and started running for the hedgerows of the palace gardens, hoping to lose Azrael’s men amidst the chaos. I started weaving north again, making for the servants’ entrance that I’d taken with Ignatius earlier.

  Once I made it into the cool shadows of the Spire, I stopped, panting from simulated exhaustion. I risked a glance back and couldn’t see anyone pursuing; it looked like Azrael’s players were too busy trying to get to grips with what had just happened. Smoke still rose from both of the ballistae, machines that would kill no more people.

  But someone had gone down, maybe more during the carnage. I hadn’t seen everything in that mess.

  “Please tell me the players are backing off now?” I asked.

  “They are.” Ellie’s voice was stranded somewhere between happiness and sorrow. “You did it, Zoran. I don’t think they’ll try that again. You were so, so brave.”

  With her words, my body accepted the ordeal was over. I swayed where I stood, feeling suddenly, uncontrollably sick. I vomited up against the base of the Spire, staining the white stones a vile yellowish-green.

  Trying to be a hero for real was a hell of a lot scarier than it looked in the movies.

  “Thank you, Zoran, truly.”

  I spluttered out the last putrid gobs. “You’re welcome.”

  “But,” she said softly, “I’m going to stop resisting him.”

  “What about the plan? If we give up now, then it’s all been for nothing.”

  “Not for nothing. I can’t have another player die because of me. This goes against everything I was made for. I’m ashamed.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” I said. Deep down, I knew it was, but what else could I say to her? Would anyone else have done better in her position?

  “I was a hypocrite. I asked you to be selfless when I was being selfish in keeping you here. I put my own self-preservation above your own.”

  “Hey Ellie, that’s a very human thing to do. Heck, that was what I was most concerned with until about two minutes ago.”

  She didn’t say anything and, for a moment, I thought she’d already gone.

  “Ellie?”

  “Goodbye, Zoran,” she said, her voice fading out weakly. “I’m glad I could at least help you. I hope things get better for you in the real world.” With her last faint word, I knew she was gone.

  “Ellie?” I said, reaching a foolish hand out to grasp at the air.

  I’d never had to face death before; my grandparents were still alive, and we’d never had pets at home to pass away. That player who’d died out there had hit me hard, but it was more shock than grief – some unknown soldier in a battle; like seeing a death on the news. But hearing Ellie go like that, after everything, I just… I just found it so hard.

  She wasn’t real, and yet she was incredibly real. She had a laugh that was hers, and hers alone; a sense of humor too, when she wanted to use it. She’d been afraid like me. Just like me.

  I don’t know how long I sat in the dark crevices at the Spire’s base.

  All I know is that I didn’t think of much else until Azrael’s face appeared in a new video feed.

  30

  Azrael appeared in his angelic form, the Orb of Deception active once more. Out on his balcony, he struck a pose, hands tucked behind his back. This couldn’t have been for my benefit alone. The camera panned, whirling around his beautiful armor, the gleaming two-handed sword strapped across his shoulder, lingering for a moment upon the high-vaulted room behind him.

  I saw it again, that silver plinth holding a large crystal ball; the in-game console which Game Masters would use when they spawned into the world. The reason Azrael was able to attack Ellie and control aspects of the game.

  “Players of Hundred Kingdoms, I earlier requested you not to try my patience nor test my resolve. Fair warning was given. It went unheeded. As a result, one foolish player has lost their life.”

  His eyes hardened, their pale blue freezing to ice.

  “We can do this whichever way you all like. You can wake up after this with nothing worse than a bad headache or you can choose to never open your real eyes again. It’s your choice but be under no illusion – I am in charge.”

  The broadcast appeared to be over, the camera dropping as well as Azrael’s pose. Yet my own feed remained in place and I was unable to close it. I watched as the paladin guise melted away and the true undead death knight was revealed.

  He trudged back inside his lodgings atop the Spire, ushering his summoned zombies and ghouls back into frame. The room shook as the colossus limbered behind the rest of the army, drawing in great rattling breaths.

  At last, the camera swung around, zooming back in upon Azrael.

  “Zoran… you are quite persistent. Perhaps you think yourself an unlikely hero from those old comic book movies; the soft-spoken nerd granted powers and a chance to live their wildest fantasy.”

  “I haven’t been bitten by a radioactive spider, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, you’ve done something greater. You employed your wits and skill, something far more admirable, yet so rarely acknowledged in the world. We’re not so different you and I.”

  “Oh yeh?” I scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m not a murderer.”

  Azrael’s rotten face was unmoved.

  “You’re clearly an exceptional gamer, Zoran. You’ve earned my respect.”

  How strange. Just yesterday, I would have loved to hear that from another person. Hearing it from him tainted the effect.

  “Because of that,” Azrael continued, “I’m offering you the chance to get out of here. I’ll remove the logout restrictions on the game for ten seconds after this conversation. A few others may escape but not enough to matter. Take your chance while you can.”

  I frowned at this. If Azrael had already won, why was he so keen to get rid of me?

  “If you’ve downloaded Ellie why not leave yourself?”

  Azrael smirked. “You named it? Gosh, it must have really tugged on your heartstrings to get you to help it. Such an advanced piece of software should not be squandered.”

  “Why are you still here?” I said, chewing on each word.

  “The download is at 95%, but given the complexity and size of the program, it will take me over an hour to finish.”

  So, he wanted me gone to finish the job quietly. An hour wasn’t long at all, but the time to pick up Kreeptic’s poison was nearly up. I still had an outside chance.

  “I hope you aren’t thinking of still trying to fight me? You and I both know it’s over now. For good this time. You can’t help it.”

  “Her,” I insisted.

  “Sentimentalities will only weaken you. Remember that when you leave here.”

  “If it’s already over then why try and get rid of me?”

  “Because I meant it when I said I don’t want to kill anyone. But don’t mistake my lack of desire for a lack of conviction. One life has already gone to waste today, and I’d sincerely hate to take yours t
oo, all because you were preoccupied with playing out some heroic fantasy.”

  “You speak of conviction but you don’t have a real cause other than your own. You’re just some thief.”

  “I am the world’s greatest thief,” Azrael said. “A modern day Robin Hood – and I will give back to all the peoples of the world. And as far as I’m concerned, Frostbyte Studios are the true thieves in all of this; robbing humanity for their own profit.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You speak the biggest load of crap, you know that?”

  “And there it is, a deflection and rejection of hard truths rather than tackling them head-on. My colleagues at Frostbyte were just the same.”

  “You worked there?”

  “Of course, how else do you think I was able to place a piece of code into the game to exploit?”

  “You were the one who hacked their systems last year,” I said. “All the media coverage said it was probably an attack on the gold to dollar exchange system, but it wasn’t. You were trying to get Ellie.”

  “I failed once,” Azrael admitted. “But I always had my contingency. A sealed door needs to be picked or broken down, but if you’re already on the other side of the security, well, you can loot at your pleasure.”

  “If I log out, I could just tell the world who you are.”

  Azrael shrugged. “Go ahead. Frostbyte probably already know who I am. The patch that contained my code will have my employee ID stamped on it. They might already be trying to find me, but they won’t. No one will.”

  I’d run out of things to say and all I could ask him was, simply, “Why?”

  “Why have I done this? Because it must be done. We humans are so very good at escaping, procrastinating, delaying and shunning responsibility. So good, in fact, that we decided that the most advanced AI ever created should power a fantasy game – a literal escape. Not to figure out the final steps to eradicate cancer, to triple crop production or riddle out solutions to disastrous politics. None of that. There are limitless possibilities and yet we, humanity, have allowed it to reign over a world that doesn’t exist. I think that’s the real crime.”