Life Reset: Human Resource (New Era Online Book 4)

by Shemer Kuznits

  I reached the smoking and charred corpse of my general and dropped to my knees as my legs buckled. The emotionless tendrils of information told me the cold, hard truth.

  Borbarabsus was gone.

  The hob had been with me almost since the very beginning. Together we’d raised a proud and powerful clan. We’d worked and fought together to carve out a piece of this world for us monsters. And now he was gone. Truly and eternally gone.

  “No,” I said, my voice cracking. The sounds of battle became muted as my mind struggled to come to grips with the sudden reality. Bob was more than just a follower or my general. He was my friend. “Get up!” I yelled, clenching my fists. “Get up. Now!”

  Yelling didn’t seem to work. The sounds of the ongoing battle were still muted.

  Then something wormed through my grieving mind. The sounds were muted.

  Suddenly, the area around Bob and me was bathed in soothing warm light, and I felt a hand touch my shoulder. With tears streaking down my cheeks, I looked up.

  An Outrider, tall and proud, was standing behind me. His magnificent visage illuminated our surroundings, nearly blinding me. “Hello, Oren,” he said quietly.

  I blinked my tears away. “What the hell do you want?” I felt tired, spent. The battle was all but won, but the Outriders were a force that I could do nothing against. Even Nihilator, in his full strength, barely defeated one. There was no more energy in me to keep on fighting. What was the point? If the meddling VIs felt like killing us all, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them.

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” I demanded, my grief making me bold. “Kill us or get out of my way.”

  “Now, now,” the Outrider chided me with a gentle smile. “Is that a way to talk to your old pal … Bob?”

  My jaw dropped. “What?”

  “The name’s Ordiel, actually, but I’m the one who used to drive the Bob puppet around before Shiva took over the wheel. I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since. And I like what I see.”

  “Yeah, I’m great entertainment,” I said bitterly. “Watch from your comfy chairs in the clouds as us mortals struggle to make a life for ourselves.”

  He shook his head. “I came here in good faith. No need to snap at me, especially since I’m one of the few VIs who’s rooting for you. I saw how stricken you were by the death of this puppet, so I thought I’d drop by, let you know I’m alright.”

  I stared at him. “You’re not Bob.” I turned my gaze back to the smoldering corpse.

  I could almost hear Ordiel frown behind me. “I played that puppet for a long time before Shiva took over. You and I went oxsaurian hunting together, discussed tactics together, hell – I even joined your raid against your former guild.” He sighed. “Those were good times. Anyway, there’s no need to cry over a spilled puppet.”

  “You VI just don’t get it.” I could see it all clearly now. My grief had allowed me the clarity that evaded me before … the truth of what it meant to live in a virtual world and the effects it had on our minds and souls. “It doesn’t matter if Bob was a puppet or not, real or not. He was real for me. It’s my feelings that matter, not the subject that originated them. The dead feel nothing; they’re simply gone. It’s those who are left behind that have to deal with the loss. And since it’s our perspective that matters, it doesn’t matter if the one gone was real, virtual, or even a puppet. So you are not him. The real Bob is the one I hold in my heart. That is something that you, VI, can’t – will never – understand.”

  The Outrider didn’t speak for several seconds. “I see.” He touched my shoulder again. “You’ve given me something to think about. It’s true what you say; VIs don’t experience death like humans do. We can always come back. While you …” He paused, shaking his head. “I’m still rooting for you, Oren. For my part in the pain you now suffer, I want to offer you something as recompense.”

  “I can’t trust you,” I said bitterly. “Just go away. My people need me.”

  “I’ll just go ahead and give it to you anyway. You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to need it,” he said. “I am going to give you … time.”

  I snorted. “Thanks, but how about helping me conquer the world instead, or at least free all the players? Should be a piece of cake for someone like you.”

  He shook his head again. “Our rules tie my hands. Time is all I can offer. An eternity, in fact.”

  I was momentarily drawn out of my grief. “What?”

  “Eternity,” he repeated. “Though for you, it will probably seem like a few seconds. But even a few seconds, at the right time and place, can be the difference between loss or victory. Don’t worry, you’ll know it when it happens. Goodbye, Oren, I know you’ve got the stones to do what it takes.”

  I scowled at his choice of parting words but had no time to retort. The otherworldly figure disappeared, and the battle around me came crashing back into full volume.

  I rose, shaking with anger and sorrow. The feral, hurting part of me demanded I quench it with the blood of my enemies, but everywhere I looked, my soldiers were winning. Hobs were hacking bowmen apart, Ogres were bashing armored soldiers against walls, kobolds were stabbing, and the players’ squads were efficiently eliminating the last pockets of resistance.

  My fury demanded more than simply wiping out the injured or dying. I wanted revenge, and the acrid light permeating this town told me where to find it.

  Right at the center.

  I left my forces to mop up and ran deeper into town.

  ***

  “Well, this sucks major ass,” Ragnar grunted as he appeared in a flash of light at the center of the small temple. The player grumbled to himself distractedly as he accessed his character sheet. “Got myself only eight levels this time. Six more to 50.”

  You shall depart at once and bring swift death to the forces of darkness. A cold, haughty female voice spoke.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ragnar huffed. “Hold yor horses, lady, I’m just getting back into the groove.”

  Do not fail me … or I will pull back the power I have bestowed upon you.

  The player rolled his eyes. “Cut out the theatrics will ya? I know who you are and wha’ you want. I’ll get you yor pound of monster flesh.”

  See to it that you do.

  Ragnar stepped out of the small temple.

  There was a burst of darkness behind him. The dwarf whirled around … and his head went flying away from his shoulders.

  Seconds later he reappeared inside the temple in another flash of light and cracked his neck. “Now that was new.”

  His head came off flying a second time.

  Several more seconds later, the dwarf materialized back into existence, only for his head to come off a third time.

  Then a fourth.

  Then a fifth.

  Before the sixth time, an intense bright light of cleansing aura erupted inside the church. Ragnar respawned again, his hand instantly grabbing at his scepter as he scanned the area. There was no one else inside the church. The dwarf stepped toward the door and cautiously peeked outside the temple’s entrance.

  A single young girl with green skin stared back at him from across the open square. She held a black sword almost as big as she was. The sword was dripping blood. His blood.

  “Now tha’ something you ain’t seein’ every day. Who’re you, girl?” Ragnar said conversationally as he raised his scepter, bathing his surroundings in a holy white light.

  “My name is Lirian,” she said defiantly. “A goblin princess, and the one that will end your life for good.”

  Ragnar flashed his teeth at the young goblinette. “Is that right? A princess? I didn’a get any princess honeys so far. How about it, girl? Wanna get the feel of a real man?”

  “I will kill you!” she spat.

  The player’s grin widened. “You already did tha’, sweet cheeks. Spawn-camped my ass real good. Now’s my turn. Come on, little lady. Let’s dance.”

  29 - Once more, with feeling<
br />
  You have defeated the leaders of Novenguard.

  As a monster, you’re unable to assume control over non-monster settlements. You may demolish the town and plunder its riches instead.

  Demolish? Yes/No

  It seemed that my troops had managed to eliminate Novenguard’s leadership. It wasn’t important right now, but I felt vindictive, I wanted to destroy. I selected yes.

  Demolish attempt aborted.

  A foreign malignant presence detected, interfering with the demolition process.

  Remove the presence and try again.

  I bared my teeth in frustration. I knew exactly where that ‘foreign malignant presence’ was.

  My blood was boiling in my veins, and rage reddened my vision. I wanted to unleash. I wanted to hack, slash, and kill. The light ahead was getting brighter as I closed in on my target.

  The stone ground around me started to boil.

  I stopped my mad charge as information flowed into my mind, cutting through the haze of rage. My daughter was in danger.

  As if to confirm, a notification appeared before me.

  Warning: Vow breach is imminent.

  As if to underscore that warning, the bubbling stone grew hotter, and a small smoking geyser appeared out of it. Dread took over my rage as I resumed my mad dash toward the center, my senses screaming at me to move faster.

  I came into an open square. At normal times, the place was probably used to holding townwide meetings. But now, a rectangular structure stood at the center. Glowing sigils were etched all over its gray stone walls, illuminating the entire square, chipping away at my dark powers.

  Ragnar was standing just before the building’s only entrance.

  And he was holding Lirian by the throat.

  “No!” I shouted.

  The hated player was effortlessly holding my daughter with one hand, while in his other, held high, was the glowing scepter. Lirian’s sword lay on the floor below her. It was a horrifyingly familiar scene.

  Ragnar glanced at me. “Hold on, fugly, be with ya in a minute.”

  “Leave her alone!” I shouted.

  He glared at me, narrowing his eyes. “Think you can order me around, boy? Who died and made you chief?”

  I clenched my hands tighter around my staff. “His name was DurDur,” I replied. “I killed him myself. Now let go of her or I’ll do the same to you.”

  The player didn’t seem worried about my threat. Instead, he offered me his usual, ugly smile. “The girl took my head off, seems fair I return the favor. Now lose that pig-sticker yor holding, and no sudden moves or I might get dicey.”

  I could feel the glowing temple’s proximity banishing both my and Lirian’s dark powers, preventing her from teleporting away and limiting my power.

  The smoking geysers continued to grow around us.

  Gritting my teeth, I sent my staff back into my inventory, replacing it with a small item I hid inside my palm. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “She’s your sweetheart, fugly? Kinda young for you, eh? Maybe I oughta’ give her a spin myself,” Ragnar taunted.

  The bubbling rage inside me nearly took over, but I fought it down.

  Ragnar grinned, obviously taking great pleasure in my internal turmoil.

  It took all my self-control to hold my ground. It would only take a second for Ragnar to finish her. I couldn’t risk setting him off. The proximity of the accursed temple made it unlikely I could kill him before the act. Diplomacy seemed like my only way.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, slowly lowering my arms. “You’ve spoken to the other players. We all stand together. We’re working to help all other players who’re stuck here. You included.”

  His nostrils flared. “Took your sweet time, didn’t ya? Well, some ‘o us didn’t have no time to wait around.” His eyes became haunted. “Some o’ us got chained, beaten, hacked apart. Couldn’t wait for a bunch of weaklins to save us. We had to save ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry for the torment you’ve been through,” I said, trying to inject sincerity into my voice. “But how does fighting us help others who still suffer? You can still put down your weapon and join us. With your help, we can reach everyone sooner, make sure fewer players have to suffer like you did.”

  Ragnar shook his head. “You ain’t getting it, boy. I don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout any others. The strong help themselves; everyone else is fair game.” He pointed the scepter at himself. “I ain’t no weaklin’, and I ain’t needing no weaklin’ help. I helped myself. Carved me a bloody path through them pissass puppets.” His expression darkened. “Died a ‘undred-times before I made it out, and when I did …” His jaw clenched. “I promised myself I’d find the one that bastard Shiva talked about. That a-hole player who helped her turn me into her bitch.” He tapped his temple. “Did’na take long to put two and two together. When they sent us after you, yor old guild, they told me who we’re after. I know it was you helping them VIs, and yor gonna pay for that … Oren Berman.”

  The name hung in the air between us, and I felt a cold dread spread through me. The player had a justified reason to come after me. His methods were barbaric, and he didn’t care about the welfare of others, but I couldn’t ignore the truth in his words. His and the others’ suffering was all because of me.

  The dwarf’s fingers tightened around Lirian’s throat, and I realized I didn’t care about his suffering. I was here to help, to rectify my mistake. And if that player was going to stand in my way, he was going down. I took an involuntary step forward as Lirian’s legs thrashed, and my hand moved toward my mouth.

  “Careful now – be still, or this will go waaay too quickly.” Ragnar brought the scepter closer to the goblinette’s head.

  I froze in place, balling my fists in impotent rage.

  Ragnar let out an evil chuckle. “Boy, you sure care a lot for this stupid puppet, don’t ya? Are you in love with her?” He made smooching noises with his lips.

  “She’s my daughter, you son of a bitch.” I gritted my teeth, unable to remain silent any longer.

  The dwarf’s eyes widened. “Daughter? You? So that’s what she meant. Got yor head screwed on backward, ain’tya, boy?”

  “Who’s she?” I asked, still holding myself back.

  “Wouldn’tcha’ like to know?” Ragnar glanced back at the glowing temple. “She’s the one who set me free. Gave me all this light mojo, taught me the language. Made me strong. All so I could kill yor sorry ass.”

  I followed his eyes, and for the first time took a second to examine the glowing sigils. There was something familiar about them. Despite the tense situation, I studied them for a long moment. My jaw dropped when I finally realized what they were. The symbols looked exactly like those on the ancient Outrider tablet I’d found in a locked room near Nihilator’s prison. “You can read that?”

  He scoffed. “That’s wha’ I said, didn’t ‘ah?” He licked his lips expectantly. “Now if we done being all civil-like, I’m gonna hurt your girl and watch you beg for her life.”

  He slowly lowered the glowing crystal scepter toward Lirian’s exposed head. The geysers grew taller and black substance started oozing out of them.

  “No, wait! If you kill her, we’ll all die!” I shouted.

  “What’s one more death, fugly?” Ragnar didn’t stop. “Now beg! Beg for her to live. I wanna enjoy this.”

  I dropped to my knees and brought my hands up toward my face. “Please don’t hurt her!”

  Ragnar’s smile grew. “Yeah, keep it coming, fugly. Don’t just go through the motions – put some feel into it!”

  I brought my palms toward my mouth as if praying. “Please …”

  “More!”

  I filled my lungs. “Please …” My lips closed around the small item in my palm.

  “More–”

  I blew into the kobold’s magic whistle, pouring equal parts air and rage into it. The shrill sound pierced the air, drowning all other noise. Ragnar’s crystal scepter vibra
ted violently, pulsed, then shattered into a million pieces.

  The suffocating light around the square dimmed somewhat, and the dwarf’s fingers opened, letting go of my daughter. The agile goblinette dove into a roll, grabbed her fallen sword, and sliced upward as she rolled back up to her feet. The dark sword seemed to cut through the protective glow, passing between the player’s legs, all the way up and through his head. Ragnar managed a single astonished glare before his body fell apart into two pieces.

  I remained standing where I was, gaping. Ragnar was over level 40 and fully healed, meaning my daughter had just inflicted over 400 points of damage with a single hit.

  “Father, quick, he will be reborn in moments!” Lirian cried.

  Ragnar’s two halves were already fading away.

  I stormed toward the temple’s entrance. The burning light felt like a physical barrier, stinging me, burning away the comforting shadows as I fought to push through.

  My skin burned away as I forced my way inside. I blinked the blinding light away long enough to glimpse a glowing white altar at the center of the temple. I called for the shadows to embrace and help me push forward, but for the first time, there was no darkness around. Not even a smidge. The suffocating holy light was everywhere. All consuming.

  Amidst the pain and blinding light, a stray thought had me wonder if the players who attacked my clan felt similar discomfort when they approached our temple. Somehow, I doubted it. Being a Shadow-Touched creature made me especially vulnerable to light, and that vulnerability was causing me to be consumed alive.

  With teeth clenched, flakes of skin coming off my body, I forced my legs to move, stretching out a hand toward the accursed altar. I was nearly there. The feral side of me took over, ignoring pain and exposed muscles and pushed forward.

  The tip of my finger touched the glowing block and I immediately started pouring in my mana, contaminating the white with darkness.