Xin already had him at her mercy. Two skeletons pinned him down with serrated bone blades in both arms. With no chance to build up kills, Mister Redrum had no real power. His two remaining team members, Awesome’s hostages, were staring with confusion and gaping mouths.
“What? I didn’t accept that!” he shouted while twisting in pain. “Hacks! You’ve cheated, goddammit! I’m reporting this!”
“Did you cheat?” Awesome asked while wrinkling his forehead.
I shrugged.
“Just die, you waste of air,” Xin snarled.
We stood near a few straggler spiders that hadn’t been cleared up. SheHulk and the others were driving them back but not killing them. Others were too busy eating corpses of raiders that had dared attack [ItRainsTooMuch].
Her skeletons joined forces. Nam Redrum flipped out. He tried to brute force his way out, then yelled as a pack of [World Eater] spiders leapt at him. Their little jaws took the offered meal and left Xin and me alone as the player screamed. [Brawn] meant nothing as his body lost functionality from deletion.
SheHulk stared without blinking. TinkerHell turned away and looked green. I wondered exactly what these girls had been through in real life to let them turn out in such a way. Had the game hardened them, or were they willing to draw the line in a different place?
Xin and I stared as the man writhed in pain. I blinked while I tried to figure out how I felt about such viciousness. The first two times Nam Redrum had died were in the throes of battle. We could claim self-defense and a chaotic battlefield.
The third time involved no such lofty stance. We’d forced him to resurrect, then fed his character to [World Eater]s for deletion. I shook with worry for my moral compass and relief that such a vile player couldn’t bother anyone again. Maybe this would serve as a warning to others. But how many more days or weeks could this virtual world last at this rate?
Heat struck my chest. I fumbled absently for the [Messenger’s Tube] then uncorked one end. The lack of a wax seal meant this letter was intended for me.
Hermes,
Too late you show the resolution to do what must be done. Poor little puppet. If only you had understood sooner, we wouldn’t be in the mess.
: )
I tore the parchment to shreds. Judgment from the Jester, of all Voices, felt disturbing. It wasn’t wrong, but at the same time, I drew my moral line in a different spot than the mask-wearing Voice. Besides, the Jester’s original request of me had been to kill Requiem in real life. What good could that have done anyone?
Dusk landed, then started chasing stray spiders. He looked utterly happy until he saw Nam Redrum’s chewed form. The player still hadn’t logged out, and nearly half his body had Swiss cheese holes from [World Eater]s. Pain apparently did not deter him from spending his last few moments staring at us with hatred.
I wondered what that might be like, then I shook my head. Our two remaining hostages froze in fear. I gestured to the pile, and Awesome proved only too happy to shove them in. None of us liked player killers. They at least could log out instantly, choosing to suffer a quiet deletion rather than whatever hell Nam Redrum stayed in.
For a moment, I reflected on the irony. We didn’t like people who sought to fight other players, yet here the lot of us sat, forcing permanent deletion upon people. How long had Nam Redrum played Continue Online for? A year? Four years? Since release? We had effectively undone years of his life and left him nothing but memories of pain.
Finally, Nam popped out completely. His suffering form was no longer stable enough to support a real character. I swallowed once as a question occurred to me. With my death, all the player tokens were gone, transferred to Xin.
“How many Great Cleansing tokens did he have?” I asked.
“I haven’t looked at who gave me which ones, but I have over seven thousand now,” Xin said dryly. Her head shook with disgust.
My head joined hers in expressing disapproval. Each token was a player who had suffered. Each one gathered by other player killers during the course of this event. I didn’t feel upset about the action anymore. We had vindicated some of those people who had suffered player deaths at these people’s hands. These players who had chosen to be rampaging monsters as the servers went down.
Xin’s body shook worse than mine. I looked over and saw a bruise forming along tatters of her robe.
One cheek tucked back as I touched the wound. “Did it hurt?”
“Death doesn’t hurt.” Her head shook. “Not really. Pain only comes when you’re alive. Trying to survive despite death calling, that hurts. I didn’t have to suffer long.”
I stared at the broken players below and wondered if perhaps it might be possible to resurrect them to further their suffering, but I thought better of it. Plus they could log out and avoid the harm. At some point, we had to let these past conflicts go. Nam Redrum thought of this entire world as a game. Too many people did. We didn’t, but neither of us was exactly wrong.
The town had been in ruins, then demolished, and now it looked like a flattened wasteland. Guts hung everywhere. Dead Travelers’ bodies were quickly decaying. [World Eater] spiders screeched and died in droves.
Xin waved, and the skeletons which had impaled Nam Redrum for the spiders started to fade—what few remained anyway. In their place, smaller skeletons formed. They fought back the [World Eater]s and gave us room to breathe.
I walked over to the dead [Sage’s Guardian] and tried to figure out what everyone else had been searching for. There didn’t seem to be any player loot. No one else showed happy faces over receiving rare gear.
“What’s this?” I asked while limping forward. Inside the dead [Sage’s Guardian] were a number of loose leaf pages. How had the others missed this?
“What’s what?” Xin asked as I lifted up the pieces of paper. Touching them made blackened pages sparkle with gold borders. “Weird, and neat. Where did you see that?”
Everything hurt as I bent over to get more pieces. A small stack of pages joined the first. Small numbers on the bottom right gave me an order to shuffle through.
“They were just lying here,” I responded.
We staggered to a bench. My shoulder leaned heavily upon Xin’s. Xin looked as bad as I felt, which probably meant I looked a mess. She seemed oblivious to what was in my hands, as if her eyes couldn’t parse any words out of the jumbled letters.
“Can you read them? They look like gibberish to me,” Xin asked.
My head bobbed. The handwriting was shaky. I tried to remember the name of those we sought. William Carver had been one person who held a key, and in this area should be another. Hopefully the [Sage’s Guardian]s played into it.
The journal name shown looked familiar, but I couldn’t draw a connection yet. This person, M. Shell, liked to interject other lines upon the first. Seeing scrawled notes jammed into the sidelines of his paper both confused and amused me.
I read it aloud while trying to put proper inflection upon the notes.
M. Shell’s Journal:
How can I explain this? The words I wrote are already no longer my own. One sentence later and the script changes to something more flowing and uses different words to convey an inaccurate meaning. This reality’s laws are taking effect in near real time.
I must admit such a feat is remarkable [I didn’t write this], and shows how daunting my task is. Imagine that, tampering with a creature so powerful she created a bubble of existence just sideways from our own that actively rewrites what we say. Is this why Locals are never overly upset at our presence?
[Dammit!] That isn’t a proper explanation. She spun a web? It uses the invisible spider’s web? A bubble around a bubble? [Why does it obfuscate even the simplest attempts to explain?! I would think this knowledge is safe to share at this stage.]
Take my world’s spider-spun webs. [Why spider webs? What nonsensical analogy is this?!] Tilt them sideways. Look between the cracks and form new words in a language we don’t know. There is where she
’s hidden this world. All it would take is one single spell to bring it crashing down. And we’re trying to tamper even further. What fools are we to dare alter the very workings a being beyond the scope of sanity? […I wrote this one. We are fools.]
“Babe?” I broke from reading to see how my wife was doing.
Xin looked dazed. Travelers nearby were picking over dead bodies and counting up loot. A lot dug through the two absolutely brutalized mechanical robots. Our mission of fighting them had ended in sheer destruction of the machines.
Apparently the key had been removing them from their domes where all the enchantments wore woven in or crafted. I still didn’t understand what had happened. Blowing up the domes had probably ruined the encounter, which explained why no one else had tried it. The golden goose they had been harvesting for sellable wares had been destroyed.
“Babe?” I asked again while scanning through the remaining pages for anything that stood out.
“Gee.” Xin put a hand up to her head. “Sorry. I’m tired. That… took a lot more out of me than expected. Keep reading, please?”
We had both been in a place that was uncomfortable. I looked around a few times and scanned the area. Three of Xin’s skeletons sat around us with weapons at the ready. Dusk leapt through the ruins, chasing down fleeing [World Eater] spiders as if they were snacks.
I wrapped an arm around Xin’s side, then tried to give her arm a reassuring rub. She leaned inward but otherwise stared off into the distance. My thoughts were once again drowned out while I sought wisdom from M. Shell. This had to be Michelle from Carver’s journals, and something in here would hopefully make our recently suffered madness worthwhile.
M. Shell’s Journal:
I digress. I wanted to speak of the fine line between our world’s magic and this one. It’s useful knowledge even in crafting.
It took hours to pry access out of those two, and a deal with that babbling fool Yates, but it was worth the bribery. As I craft new items, it’s possible to manipulate threads of energy into the shape. Laying it out into form is almost like crafting magic in our first world. [Gods dammit!][GODS!?] Not crafting magic, laying patterns! Carving spells! [GODS, can I write nothing that would make sense?! I pity the soul who tries to make heads or tails of this!]
Never mind. Know this; intent is key. At first, we have to verbalize, move in a certain way, and let the spirits [Gods, spirits? Really?] adapt to what is inside our hearts. Intent repeated over and over becomes action. Action repeated over and over becomes a pattern to who we are. It explains why the first few Travelers to arrive start weak in everything, then grow. We can use this to alter the spells into a state that isn’t as easy to self-destruct. [Sadly this is almost starting to make sense][I DIDN’T WRITE THAT EITHER! STOP ADDING NOTES!]
It’s not even her doing this. The world itself is adapting. The false reality. Spider’s webs knotting together. [DAMMIT! LET ME WRITE PLAINLY.] This place is rapidly becoming a reality of its own but is still dependent upon my world’s magic to sustain itself.
If the issue is how a spell in our world might hunt down this frail spider’s web, then we need only change the silk it’s made from. The others agree, but can we complete the task in time?
The final piece of paper looked to be scrawled in a much hastier writing. I looked around again. The other Travelers were gathering farther away, toward the center of town.
Xin’s body hung limply next to me. She didn’t show any signs of improving despite the healing spells which had been cast earlier.
“Maybe you should log out, or go back to [Haven Valley] with a scroll?” I suggested.
“No,” she said simply. “Keep reading, please.” Her fingers wove between mine, and the dulled rainbows in our rings glinted.
I took a breath. She couldn’t leave me any more than I could abandon her. We were stuck together until the end. Both eyes threatened to water, and I struggled to right myself. The smells of burning bugs were pushed out.
M. Shell’s Journal:
To whoever finds this journal, know that I, M. Shell, the greatest crafter to walk this world [HOW CONCEITED DO YOU THINK I AM?] until the arrival of all other Travelers, am most likely dead. You may ask how, but if you can read this message for what it is, you likely already know part of the reason. Worse still, this note should only display when certain conditions are present in the world abroad.
I and a few like-minded people have tried to create contingencies in case all of reality is threatened. There’s no way to know which ones will come to fruition. I do so hope it’s not too late, and that one of these methods works.
The mental projection artifact in my home has been heavily modified, and what protection Travelers are normally afforded has been removed. This was done to allow me to perform magics dangerous but needed. For the cause that you too are part of, else you could not see these papers. Our deeply laid spells have already started to affect you. [I give up on trying to write sane words.]
Ironic that my love for this world and its existence is what will kill me in the end. Was that the intent? Did she choose me, Carver, or Yates because of what we might do?
You who follow in my footsteps, take heed of the price for loving a land not your own. Think heavily on the line between safety and savior. Ye god of my world [Look, now I’m writing this nonsense by choice], Yates forever spouts his poetry, but at some point, it’s fitting despite my distaste for the man. Know that these things you set your heart upon, sooner or later must the soul destroy!
Should you already have made up your mind, seek Yates and Carver. [Or just Yates if you risk his insanity. Carver’s already paid a heavy price in our testing and I know not how much is left of the man.]
“Over here!” TockDoc yelled in my direction. “That door is open!”
Dwight had survived the mess somehow and was waving clanking metal arms to shush the man with giant rubber boots. My wife and I looked at each other. One eyebrow went up, to which Xin shrugged. We slowly stood, then hobbled over.
Session Ninety-Six
The Crown of Laurels
Travelers and autopilots pushed objects aside, allowing us room to get into the deep pit. Awesome and company marched ahead of my wife and me. I wasn’t awake enough to notice much more than their general shapes.
The ARC connection stuttered occasionally from strain. Eventually I would pass out entirely, then probably wake up far too late for the grand reveal. Every breath as we plodded along brought me closer to exhaustion. [Breathing] in game went up in small ticks with each lungful of digital air I managed to power through.
“Come on.” TockDoc waved us forward. “The door’s open still, but I’m not sure how long it stays open.”
I had a hard time focusing on him. Pulling an all-nighter had worked out for the mission, but we were close to eleven in the morning and I hadn’t gotten enough rest.
“We’re going too. There’s no way we’re going to not see what this is,” Awesome shouted across the city ruins while running toward us. His eyes were bright despite his tattered clothes. One of his legs limped, and I could only wonder what sort of debuffs plagued the man’s character.
[Inspection] didn’t tell me a lot about other people besides their name and health total. Maybe investing in a medical skill like SheHulk had would have been helpful. There were so many little abilities that amounted to eye candy in this game. Special effects, ones which increased debilitations, minor bonuses to performance under certain conditions.
I’d gotten one months ago called [Battle Hum] that gave me extra [Coordination] as long as the song being hummed had rhythm. Xin probably had one called [Alluring] that increased attractiveness the more clothes I got off of her. A snort of amusement escaped me.
Being tired made half my thoughts incomplete and the others refused to line up properly. I stared briefly at SheHulk and TinkerHell and wondered how they’d gotten together, much less hooked up with Awesome. Xin’s fingers dug into my arm and suggested that maybe I was looki
ng a bit too closely.
“All these years working for Trillium, and there’s still so much about this game I don’t know,” the guild leader muttered to himself.
The change of pace brought other questions to mind. I asked Awesome in a rush of words, “Did you know Michelle? Or whoever Carver was? Maybe Yates?”
“I met David once. Carver. He was the man in charge of the first ARC project. That was around six years ago when I first became a manager in marketing. He needed someone on board to test the game early. That’s how I got into the beta.” Awesome looked bashful for a moment. The action reminded me of his son, who often wore the same vaguely embarrassed expression.
The corridor went on far too long for me. SheHulk took the lead with her battered shield at the ready. Most people were staying up top in case more player killers or [World Eater]s existed. Some apparently had headed out to check the two [Sage’s Guardian]s that had not escaped their domes.
“I can’t wait to see what’s down here.” TockDoc rubbed his hands together and grinned widely. A glow appeared as his hands lit up with faint green.
We could finally see better. Burned out wiring lined the walls. Not even a small spark of electricity remained.
“What are those?” I asked while pointing at the gloves. They were more interesting than the repetitive scenery. This wrecked wiring went on for miles.
“Kinetically activated glow-in-the-dark mittens,” TockDoc said proudly as we walked. “Rub them together, and the friction creates light!”
“These puppies were one of the town’s export goods.” Dwight waved at TockDoc’s hands while smiling. “We were so close to striking it rich with our patents.”
“You can’t patent in this game,” TinkerHell stated.
“You can, or close enough to make money. First of a kind gives rewards, and NPCs eat new goodies up like candy.” Dwight rubbed his own hands together, creating a second glow.
Dwight had a set on as well. Under their glow, we could see his reduced amount of armor. Nearly half the clanking metal had vanished. What remained looked battered. Straps with frayed edges hung in weird locations, and holes had been chewed through his chest piece.
Continue Online (Part 5, Together) Page 13