by Cid Banks
Naomi joined us, gasping. “Wow. The whole city is devastated.”
“The fight is still going!” Amy tugged my arm. “We have to help!”
I wanted to tell Amy the truth—that Goldbridge wasn’t worth risking our lives. Nothing in the game was.
Naomi wasn’t as patient. “Are you nuts? It’s over.”
“Naomi.” I touched her shoulder.
She shook me off, doubling down. “They destroyed the walls and tore through the gate. They’re swarming the bridges!”
“This is my home!” Tears streamed down Amy’s cheeks. “I can’t abandon it!”
“You’ll make another home.” Naomi turned toward me, begging for help. “This was over before we knew what was happening. This city is done for.”
“What the fuck do you know?” Amy snarled.
“I know a lost cause when I see one.” Naomi gripped my bicep, imploring me. “James, we need to go.”
“Amy.” I watched her shake her head, crying. “We should go.”
“I can’t.”
I couldn’t leave her, so I took her hand and silently begged Naomi for patience. She sighed loudly and stood to the side, muttering something about a waste of time.
The fight between the two knights flashed in the distance. Electricity danced over the one in black and gold armor, enveloping his battle axe. Golden symbols pulsed over his weapon and armor. They crawled up his helmet, which curved into bladed spines on a twisted, obsidian crown. A feathered cape billowed behind him.
The Storm King
Level 28 Death Knight
Feudal Rank 3 King of The Stormrealm
HP: 152/152
Strength: 28 Reflex: 12 Willpower: 22 Charisma: 8
Traits: Cruel, [unknown], [unknown]
Relationship: Hostile
It was the tyrant. The villain Cedric and Amy longed to overthrow. Definitely the highest level enemy I’d seen so far.
Screaming, the knight thrust his spear. It skimmed the king’s shoulder with a clang. Dodging the counterattack, the spearman slashed again. The Storm King blocked the hit. The knight battered the Storm King, avoiding a killing blow. Again and again, the spearman’s attack glanced off the Storm King’s armor. He was no match for the Storm King. As the struggle wore on, his spear just barely parried the Storm King’s attacks. Then a bolt of lightning slammed into the knight’s chest, knocking him flat.
Amy screamed as the Storm King approached his writhing opponent. “Get up, damn you!”
The knight tried. He couldn’t. Smoke spiraled from his ruined armor. The Storm King raised the axe. He swung.
Amy sobbed. “No!”
The electrified axe struck home with a sickening crunch. There wasn’t a scream, only a spray of blood.
Amy’s desperate sobs tugged at my heart. I hugged her as she buried her face in my neck. “Carlos.”
So the doomed spearman was a friend of hers. “I’m sorry, Amy.”
Electricity sparked from the corpse. The Storm King left his axe embedded in the man’s chest, laughing as the body steamed. A mammoth-sized warhorse with spiked barding trotted to the king. Finally, he retrieved his weapon. With a nasty squelch, he yanked it free and mounted his steed.
The attack was over. Goldbridge had fallen.
The soldiers followed the Storm King’s horse, marching through the maze of bridges like a bizarre funeral procession. Bolts from his battle-axe battered windows, raining glass over facades. His wild laughter boomed as he smote people and structures, paving a path of destruction.
The bridge’s stone railing cracked under Amy’s white-knuckled grip. Red-faced fury blazed from her eyes, the berserker rage tempered with desolation.
Tears mingled with the rain, falling off her chin. “I’ll kill that bastard!”
I knew that look. She’d meet her death if I didn’t stop her. “Amy, he’s at least twenty levels higher than us and surrounded by an army. We stand no chance. His men will slaughter us before we get in stabbing distance.”
“He’s right, Amy,” Naomi said, voice softening. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“You can stay here.” The redhead gasped, clutching her chest. “I’m going after him.”
“No.” I grabbed Amy’s wrist. “He’s killed you before. Dying again won’t accomplish anything.” All I could do was beg her. “Let’s go. Please.”
Amy fell to her knees, sobbing.
We didn’t have time to mourn.
I hauled Amy to her feet.
We ran for our lives, sprinting past smoking buildings and avoiding the troops that laid devastation to every structure. We jogged along the bridge overlooking the harbor. The ships were making a run for it. Below us, the mermaid ship pulled from the dock. Sailors untied ropes as it lurched forward. The hull banged against the pier in the fierce winds.
I peered over the edge. It was a long drop, and we had a short window. “We’ll have to jump.”
“What?” Naomi shrieked.
It was now or never. I took their hands and jumped. The wind roared, mingling with their high-pitched yells. The ship’s deck rushed to meet us.
We crashed into the wood. The shockwave rippled through my legs. I flew from the girls, slamming into a barrel. Pain stabbed my knees as I slumped to the side, groaning. Damn, that hurt. I unstuck my cheek from the cold, wet floor. The deck rocked violently as I raised my head.
10HP
My bones ached. “I think I broke something.”
Feminine hands rolled me over. Naomi’s face hovered over mine, her hair tickling my skin. “You okay?”
She was fine. So was Amy. The warrior was already upright, looking upset but unharmed.
“I’m great.” I lurched to my feet, swaying.
Jumping to the ship was reckless. I could’ve teleported without hurting myself, but there wasn’t enough time to think.
Sailors scurried past, struggling to raise the sails. Nobody asked if I had a ticket. The boat moved forward, passing under the high bridge, and cleared the harbor. Amy watched her home burn. I limped to her, wishing I knew what to say. Flames belched smoke into the sky, destroying everything.
A sailor screamed commands. “Secure the cargo!”
Barrels rolled as the ship tipped dangerously. The captain struggled to hold the wheel as rain and wind pounded him. I grabbed the taffrail as light bleached the clouds. A bolt smashed a nearby church, and chunks of stone dropped, narrowly missing us. Enemy soldiers were battling the city’s lingering defense. The Storm King galloped on his horse, approaching the escaping ships.
Shit.
He pointed his battle axe toward us. A pillar of white leaped into the black sky, summoning a chorus of rolling thunder. The fierce wind swelled into a hurricane gale. The sails were ripped free of a ship beside us, toppling the smaller vessel.
“James!” Naomi screamed, grabbing my arm.
We clung to each other as the ship bucked. Crates tumbled, crashing into sailors. The ship’s flag vanished. A gash tore the topsail. Amy stood on the upper deck as the boat groaned. She screamed a challenge to the Storm King.
“Stand fast!” The captain ordered.
A cresting wave crashed against the bow. Water spilled onto the deck, slamming Naomi and me against the ship. A bolt hit the mainmast, knocking us back with an explosion of wooden shrapnel.
The ship’s heavy mast fell. Sails toppled into the waves. Rope snapped as the mast’s rigging was dragged with it. Another massive wave caused rivets to pop and planks to crack.
“Cut it loose!” The captain bellowed before he was knocked over.
The shore bobbed closer with each wave.
There was nowhere to run.
Fifteen
I expelled a mouthful of salty water as the tide pushed me onto the shore. The storm had abated, but rain still sprinkled in a fine mist.
Every bone in my body ached. I clawed to the mermaid’s broken figure. Sand and seaweed caked her face. Torn sails draped her like a sheet over a c
orpse. Her arm was fractured. The brass trident was gone. The wrecked ship was strewn over the beach’s rocky outcroppings.
My way home was thwarted. Again.
This game was out to get me. That Storm King asshole ruined my best shot at escape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I pounded the sand with shaking fists. “Fuck you!”
What had I done to deserve this shit?
Naomi waved at me, her eyes glowing with emerald light. It pulsed from her outstretched hands as bright green 1s and 2s popped over her, restoring her hit points.
I joined her, my boots swimming. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
I must’ve looked like hell. “Went for a swim.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Could be worse, I guess. We could still be stuck there.” She frowned at the city, which smoked in the distance. Thick smoke spiraled into a vortex, emptying into the gradually darkening sky.
Survivors from the shipwreck hauled a lifeboat. They dragged supplies onto the beach and quickly left.
“They might be dumb NPCs, but they have the right idea.” Naomi crossed her arms, worried. “We should make ourselves scarce.”
“Where’s Amy?” I didn’t see the redheaded warrior anywhere.
“Over there.” Naomi pointed at a boulder on a cliff. “I don’t think she’s in a talkative mood.”
“Probably not, but I should check on her.”
Naomi nodded, pulling her cloak over her head. I climbed the slippery rock where Amy sat. Her knees were drawn to her chest. She looked lost.
“We can’t stay here.” I touched her shoulder, and she didn’t throw it off. I took it as a good sign. “By nightfall, scouts will be out here looking for survivors.”
She wiped her eyes, her voice thick with emotion. “I still can’t believe it’s gone.”
There was nothing to say, so I pulled her into a hug. Amy seized my waist and squeezed. I sighed into her hair. “This game fucking sucks.”
A pained sob burst from her lips. “Y-yeah.”
Holding Amy felt nice. She folded into me, her body fitting against mine perfectly. I could’ve stayed like this for hours, but we had to leave.
Gently, I disengaged from Amy and helped her stand. We descended, joining Naomi, who led the way across grassy fields. We stayed off the road, crossing patches of farmland and minor streams as we hiked the mostly flat countryside.
I picked apples from an overgrown orchard beside a chapel and passed them to the girls. I ate for something to do as the sun dipped over distant hills. While forging through someone’s land, we found a farmer willing to bring us east.
A short while later, we sat on bales of hay as the horse-drawn cart moved at a glacial pace. It was slow, but at least we could rest. Not that anyone felt like taking it easy. It was tough. I couldn’t erase the sound the of the Storm King’s battle axe as it was yanked from that soldier’s chest.
Watching the knight’s death had done something to Amy. She cried silently, staring at the fading smoke of the city with a thousand-yard stare. Naomi urged me to give Amy space, but I couldn’t. Not when Amy’s tear-tracked face wrenched at my heart.
I couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s not over. The rebellion’s still alive. Cedric and the others won’t give up.”
Amy nodded, wiping her eyes as she stared into space. A golden arrow flashed above her head, substantially larger than the standard icon for leveling up.
I pointed at it. “What’s that?”
“I leveled up after the heist but haven’t chosen my new class,” she murmured. “I can’t decide.”
“We can do that?”
“It’s not what you think,” Naomi interjected. “When a player reaches level ten, they move from the first tier of classes into a more advanced set. It depends on your base class. When I gained level ten, I was given a handful of choices for more advanced magic classes. I picked sorceress. It happens again at level twenty, thirty, and so on. I’ve never met a player in the forties, but I assume it’s the same.”
Sorcerer wasn’t even an option when I started. Naomi had a unique class. I should’ve realized that.
“Everyone gets to do that, right?” This was a game changer. “What are my choices when I hit level ten?”
“Beats me.” Naomi sighed. “You’re the only bard I’ve ever met.”
Six more levels, and then I’d find out. Might as well have been a lifetime. Hopefully I’d escape before then, but I had no idea how. Goldbridge was in ruins. The ship had crashed. If I’d left earlier, I would’ve been on my way to the island.
“What did you pick?” Naomi asked Amy as the golden arrow icon melted away.
“Slayer. Killing is what I do best.” Amy hardened, her lips trembling. “And when I get my hands on that evil cunt, I’ll stick my sword up his ass. I’ll make him pay for the lives he took.”
She was hell-bent on revenge. It made sense to choose a class that helped her become an unstoppable killer.
“We’ll find Cedric and regroup,” Amy said. “The resistance will send word about Goldbridge. Cedric will have a plan. He always has one.”
I rubbed my head. “We’ll think of something.”
“Yeah,” Naomi said, drawing the word out. “I need to channel Han Solo for a second. I don’t want any part of your rebellion.”
Amy shrugged, looking irritated.
“Don’t go.” I didn’t want to lose Naomi again. “We make a good team.”
“What, one pretty girl isn’t enough for you?”
“This isn’t about me building a harem.” I couldn’t believe I was arguing about this. “We need each other.”
Naomi smirked. “Speak for yourself, bard.”
“This place is a deathtrap.” I grabbed a piece of straw. “It’s designed to have danger around every corner. It’s dangerous to go out alone.”
“If Link did it, so can I!” Naomi said. “Look, I don’t want to get killed. I shouldn’t have been in a war zone. That was idiotic—the sort of risk I never take. Most players are trying to leave the war. Throwing ourselves in the front lines is beyond stupid.”
Amy said nothing. Her eyes blazed with fury.
“Sorry, but I work alone.” Naomi sighed. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving. No more risks.”
Naomi crossed her arms over her cleavage and closed her eyes. I’d hate to see her leave, and not just because I was carrying a torch for her. We stood a better chance of surviving together.
Naomi’s traits were still Self-controlled, Diligent, and [secret]. There had to be some way to convince her to stay. We could help with whatever quest she was on. Or I could invent a story about being diligent and—
No.
I was approaching this all wrong.
Naomi wasn’t an NPC. Convincing her to stay wasn’t as simple as having high charisma. Players received traits based on their actions. Traits didn’t control their behaviors. Real people had desires too complex for a handful of words on a character menu. Naomi was a realist. She firmly believed she’d spend her life in this world. She minimized risk and developed her stats.
She was a gamer—a power gamer.
I had something that might tempt her. I reached into my bag. “Before you make your decision, you should read this.”
She scowled at the piece of paper in my hand. “I have more than enough quests.”
“Not like this. Look at it.” I gave her the unusual note taken from the count’s treasury.
Skeptical, Naomi grabbed it from my fingers. She turned it over, wide-eyed. “Holy shit. Is this what I think it is?”
Sixteen
“Read it to me again,” Naomi said.
Showing Naomi the debug chest had been the right move, but I couldn’t shake the feeling she’d leave as soon as the quest was finished. I shook off the prickling sense of dread and recited the NPC’s notes of incomprehensible gibberish.
“It says debug chest.” Naomi mulled over the words thoughtfully. “That’s the same as a dev chest. When I was a software developer, we
’d include the object reference in the description string. It was easier that way. Another dev could glance at it and immediately know what it was for.”
“Did you work in games?”
“No, but I understand the basics. That was my life before all this.” Naomi sighed, irritated. “Anyway, a debug chest, room, whatever, is something players aren’t supposed to be able to access. Their only purpose is to help developers test different systems in the game before release. Before a game goes live, they have to be removed or buried where players can’t find them.”
“Except this one was found.” Hope burgeoned in my heart. “And by NPCs no less.”
Amy’s frustrated voice broke the silence. “What the hell are you guys talking about? Debug?”
I grimaced, looking over my shoulder at Amy, whose pixie face was frozen in confusion. “It’s a thing from the real world.”
Amy scrunched her nose, struggling to remember. “Hmm.”
“Anyway,” Naomi snapped, dragging my attention back to her. “I’m just guessing, but the NPCs must have a system where they try to understand things in their world dynamically. In an open world as complex as this one, it would be way too much effort to pre-program all the trillions of possible interactions, so the developers built something where NPCs pick out important properties in the world and respond to them accordingly.”
“So they discovered this bugged area,” Amy said slowly. “And the note is them figuring out what it is?”
“Basically.”
We followed a path with gray spikes for road signs. Dark stone sprouted from grass like oddly shaped rocks. We’d passed dozens of the strange totems. Our second day of travel took us through the Spirelands, which resembled the Scottish highlands.
I’d visited there on a family trip when I was eighteen. We’d stayed in a cozy inn in Edinburgh and left the city to climb cliffs with black rocks. Grass rolled over the hills, stretching across endless plains for sheep grazing. Eighteen-year-old me couldn’t appreciate the beauty or the quiet.
I walked under a hazy sky, following the weak light to an abandoned castle. It perched on a steep hill that overlooked miles and miles of rolling, green landscape. The weathered rock looked like one of the many Scottish ruins Mom dragged me to see.