Lips wobbling, Gabrielle shook her head. Her chest was a chasm of hurt. How could her mother’s cousin be so mean? They were nothing alike.
Aunt Roth raised her hand.
“Ten times!” she shrieked before it happened.
“Ten times!” Aunt Roth said, “This is one of the easiest in the book!” She bared her teeth, rage making her face look like a demon’s.
Gabrielle choked a breath, more tears streaming down her face.“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Not good enough.” Aunt Roth crouched, those glasses inches away from Gabrielle’s eyes. “How many times have I told you? You are only a Howe in name girl. Roth blood flows in your veins. If this is the best you can do then you are worthless to us.”
Worthless! She was the best student in the year by far! None of the other kids could beat her in any of the subjects they shared. How could Aunt Roth say that? “But the other kids—”
“Don’t tell me about the dumb animals.” Aunt Roth grabbed the front of Gabrielle’s uniform and dragged her to the window. “Just look at them.”
Gabrielle looked. They were at it again, Stacy closing in on a goal this time. A pang of sadness settled into her belly. “I’m looking,” she mumbled.
“What are they doing?” Aunt Roth snapped.
Frowning, Gabrielle thought till only the obvious answer remained. Aunt Roth always asked riddles and the consequences for answer wrong was… severe. She said in a near whisper,“They're playing soccer.”
“Correct.” Aunt Roth sighed. “And how is soccer useful apart from for exercise?”
Gabrielle’s face scrunched in confusion. She had never thought about that before—only thinking of all the fun the other kids were having in the field. They laughed, ran, and… had fun together and made friends with each other. Nothing else apart from for exercise like Aunt Roth said. This was the hardest riddle yet. Like she was missing something very, very obvious. The look on Aunt Roth’s face said it all. Annoyance, disgust, anger. Anger at Gabrielle. Anger at the other kids.
Gabrielle swallowed and took a breath. Aunt Roth would hit her again if she didn’t answer within two minutes. “Soccer is useful for having fun with friends.” She squinted her face and prepared for a lot of heat and pain. Her eyes squeezed shut, expecting it any second. Any breath.
Any second now…
It didn’t come. She opened her eyes. Aunt Roth was only glaring at her, arms behind her back. “So was I right?”
Aunt Roth nodded. “That is the only thing soccer is useful for. Do you understand?”
Gabrielle didn’t know how to answer. Yes, she understood—but probably not in the way Aunt Roth expected. Was having fun with the other children somehow also incorrect? No, it couldn’t be. It was true. They were out there, happy together. It didn’t make sense. She should be out there with them!
Aunt Roth crouched down again.“You obviously don’t, girl.”
Before Gabrielle knew it, Aunt Roth struck the same cheek again. She collapsed to the ground, a scream tearing through her throat. The sting was far worse this time, far worse than in weeks. A drop of red splashed onto the tiled floor. Aunt Roth’s wedding ring had cut her again.
Gabrielle shook her head and cried as Aunt Roth walked away, her stilettos clicking on the floor. How could her aunt do this to her? Hit her. Yell at her. Leave her bleeding next to all these dangerous chemicals. This had to be illegal! All of it.
Something in her tore, her heart beating harder and faster than never before. A strange, cold tingle fizzled behind her eyes. She shook her head, trying to get rid it. She shook and shook till and her body heated in a rage. This was all Aunt Roth’s fault. Her mother’s fault for allowing. Everyone. Everything. She jumped to her feet and said in a quiet voice, “I hate you, Aunt Roth.” The words released something bound in her chest and head. It felt good. Too good. She didn’t care if Aunt Roth was her mother’s cousin. She screamed louder than ever before, “I hate you!”
Aunt Roth stopped two feet away from the door. She looked over her shoulder. Gabrielle hadn’t seen this expression before. Was it— Satisfaction?
“Maybe you aren’t weak filth after all.” Aunt Roth sneered once more. “Don’t forget, the weak perish and the strong survive. Always. Continue your work!” She turned and left.
Gabrielle stood there bleeding, tingling, fiery hate swelling in her. She couldn’t understand what was happening. But one thing was certain: for once, Aunt Roth had praised her.
The world shifted and Gabrielle’s heart stuttered back to a steady, strong beat. She hadn’t seen that memory in forever. It was one from when she was still… Weak.
Hell no! She’d not weak anymore!
A smile without warmth erupted on her features. She brought her fingers to her lips as the Paladin whacked away at her Mana Shield. “Oh my, ya meanie! Weak filth? Is that what you really think? Hmmm, that just won’t do at all…” She tapped her chin with her wand, rolling her tongue through her mouth till an idea sprang. “Because that is definitely incorrect. I’ll have to teach you a good long lesson about strength, ya mean Pally!”
Hehehe… Oh yes, this will be good.
“You are weaker than a dumb troll, bitch! You run and hide like a coward!” Ross’ blade erupted in golden fire. He stabbed the shield and caused a spray of mana spark, doing over a thousand light damage. Gabrielle’s mana regenerated topped it back up in seconds. “Damn you! Stop hiding behind that pathetic shield!”
Gabrielle reached into her pouch, looking for a spare teddy. “Te te te te te te te— Teddy!” She readied the spell and began chanting. Pure excitement bubbled up her tummy. Redwing was getting a friend and future chew toy!
Teddyfication
Transfers the soul of your target to a Teddy-Bear
Skill Level: 1, 5%
Skill Tier: 0
Mana Cost: 50%
Cooldown: 1 minute
Channel Duration: 20 seconds
Effect: Transfers a non-player character’s soul to one of your own crafted Teddy-Bear dolls. The target must have less than 10% health and be at least 40 levels lower than yourself. Not usable on Bosses of tier 6 or higher.
Tier Effect: The resulting Teddy-Bear’s arms and not much else can move slowly
Her wand twirled in intricate patterns as the incantation fluttered off her lips in a dark echo. Lines and curves of black and blue mana formed in the air, painting the seal of the soul-transfer. She fed buckets and buckets of her vast well of Water-Dark mana till the seal grew and wrapped around the Paladin’s head. This will teach him. A good, long solitary confinement in her pouch.
“What?” Ross jumped back. “What the hell is this? Wha—”
The seal flashed once and a minuscule black orb shot into the Teddy-Bear in her hand.
The paladin fell forward, soulless.
“Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha,” she laughed, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. It worked again! “Hehehe who’s weak now? You or me, meanie Pally?”
The teddy’s arms waved up and down. Adorable.
Gabrielle held it to her ear. “What was that? I couldn’t hear ya!” The teddy’s arms moved faster. “Mmmm maybe you don’t feel like talking right now! Oh well, I’ll ask later.” She threw the teddy into the blackness of her pouch. She added coldly, “And by the way. Charging in head first by myself is stupid. Stupidity is a weakness.”
Humming a tune, Gabrielle glanced at Rowan’s status at the left of her vision. He was miraculously still at 100% health. And he’d gained over 60 levels from that doll explosion all those poison canisters which he hadn’t messed up placing. “Maybe he isn’t some weak idiot after all huh… No wonder Uncle Vincent was so nice to him,” she mumbled and waited for his approach.
It was time to make him a Necromancer.
* * *
Rowan’s link of consciousness to the doll was severed and he found himself sitting on the branch of tree again. His idea had worked flawlessly. Gabrielle was a fool to disagree with him. Perhaps
she was idiotic as she acted—like a dumb girl. Though a spark of intuition hinted the exact opposite.
A Canister of Green Widow Venom on the sill of an open window in the guards’ house glowed toxic green, flashing three times.
Oh. The poison bombs he had helped place.
Rowan fumbled through his pouch. He drank the High Quality Draught of Greater Poison Immunity before it was too late. Thick, bitter, and sour goop slithered down his throat and bubbled in his stomach. A tingling warmth spread through his muscles and skull. A green icon appeared on his status bar.
Poison Immunity [23 hours 59 minutes remaining]
You are immune to all poisons of Tier 9 or less.
The cannister flashed twice. Rowan jumped off the branch and sprinted for the courtyard.
The plan was simple: plant poisonous explosives at regular intervals across the town and detonate them once Gabrielle revealed herself. The guards would raise the alarm of her presence and the townsfolk would panic and flee and hide, perfect for Green Widow venom in aerosol form. One needed to breathe over thirty big lungfuls before a lethal dose entered the bloodstream. Gabrielle’s stock of stronger poison bombs had been exhausted, unfortunately—and she didn’t have any disease immunity potions for Rowan. Such was the life of a Witch-Doctor on the run.
Small shockwaves rippled through the air as the canisters detonated, clouds of opaque, hazard colored poison billowing out of houses every twenty meters. Screams, coughs, and cries of agony filled Rowan’s ears in a symphony of suffering and pain. This damned town that’d humiliated him was finally getting was it deserved. His icy mana gushed from the cold void and filled his being to the bring. Nothing short of pure hate and satisfaction gripped his slow, beating heart behind the strange every-frosty amulet.
Hacking townsfolk and guards collapsed to the ground like bugs in a spray. Dead. Dead. Dead. All the NPCs who’d laughed at his jailing were dead! Oh, it felt so, so good to watch this cliche town’s extermination.
You have leveled up! (2X)
You have leveled up! (21X)
You have leveled up! (13X)
You have leveled up! (2X)
You have leveled up! (23X)
You have 69 undistributed stat points
You have 69 undistributed skill points
Excellent! Level 70! More than enough for that necromancer ritual—which Gabrielle still hadn’t explained. They needed to do this ritual before Draco reinforcements and adventurers arrived. That fly Cpt LightWind’s lengthy mid-level timer should be wrapping up any minute now.
When Rowan neared a two hundred meter wide black crater where the courtyard should’ve been, a high-pitched, kid-like laugh assaulted his ears.
“Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha,” Gabrielle laughed. Her frame shook like a kid’s. “Hehehe who’s weak now? You or me, meanie Pally?”
She was talking to a white teddy-bear this time. She said something Rowan couldn’t hear from his distance, but she appeared eerily happy.
Rowan’s boot squished onto a piece of flesh… burned, melted, and bubbling with Gabrielle’s Water-Dark mana. The end of the road was covered in similar gore. The Rowan-Doll had done this—his idea. His strategy. He chuckled and approached Gabrielle—with caution. She looked much more unstable than before.
Her attention flicked to him. “Oh heya Rowan!”
He frowned. What a quirky, pretty girl indeed. He just couldn’t understand her and likely never will. Seducing her would take a long, long time and he wasn’t strong enough to hold her down. Damn.
Nevertheless, she’d make a fine commander for his Undead Legion and dark empire.
Chapter 13
Beautiful
Rowan stood by a pile of fool’s gold while Gabrielle sat cross-legged in a misty, black circle in front of the temple’s circular door. She channeled a Witch-Doctor spell to detect a Boss that carried a Necromancer’s Keystone. It’d been over ten minutes since she’d drawn the circle with her wand and closed her eyes. Her jubilant high had cooled down minutes after the town had been cleared of life. Perhaps she was acting again. Or perhaps her kid-like laugh had been an act. Rowan didn’t really care either way.
The mimic had shapeshifted into a large black cat and laid next to Gabrielle, purring in the presence of her dark mana, meeting Rowan’s eyes whenever he looked its way. He’d have to attain vengeance some other time once Gabrielle looked the other way—she’d explained the mimic was the temple’s guardian and a tier 4 boss friendly to all dark class characters. Rowan grudgingly admitted that a guard was valuable.
[T4 World Boss] Guardian Mimic: Level 167
Health: 11400
Mana: 4560
Stamina: 4210
Skill level up: Examine
Skill Level: 30, 1%
Skill Tier: 1 (+1. You examined a World Boss of T3 or greater)
Effect Change: 4 maximum targets
Tier Effect Change: Examine also reveals buffs and debuffs. Ability to customize Examine dialog popups in-game preferences.
Interesting. It seemed that the tooltips weren’t lying when they stated skill tiers advance upon special conditions being met. And Examine was again the easiest of the lot to level up in tiers. Rowan Examined the mimic again and Examined each buff icon, granting short descriptions.
[T4 World Boss] Guardian Mimic: Level 167
Health: 11400
Mana: 4560
Stamina: 4210
Buffs: Shapeshifted (Black Panther Form), Immortal (Resurrects at the temple entrance without penalty. 12 hour respawn time), Lesser Rapid Growth (2X experience gain for character level and all skills), Unstable (Corpse explodes and disintegrates upon death)
The icy void swished with mana as Rowan read the Immortal buff, a stab of annoyance impaling his gut. He’d never deal total vengeance to the mimic now when it’d just keep respawning. And Rowan was more or less certain that the mimic couldn’t feel pain—it’d simply shapeshift to a form that couldn’t if its current form could. He exhaled and wiped the growing scowl off his face. He needed to practice the control over his only unmuted emotion. Anger. His ability to strategize was far greater when calm.
But the mimic could be a good minion. Even if it was forever bound to this temple. It could make a good trap for lower-level player parties or mid-level stragglers. Quite useful.
But not as useful as Gabrielle.
Rowan looked back at her. Her face was serene and calm and— A normal eighteen-year-old’s. It was strange to see her like that. Her pretty face was unmarred while she didn’t have a constant mad, child-like expression plastered onto her face. The proportions of her jaw, nose, brow, lips, and eyes were just right. Like she had played with the character creation sliders for days without end. Though as Rowan inspected her closely, it was clear she was the same Gabrielle from Westwind Highschool except two years older. A bit more sharp, developed, and fit.
She was undoubtedly attractive. Beautiful, even. Not just her looks but the way she’d eviscerated this town with such efficiency and bravado.
The black circle flared, seemingly reading his thoughts in Gabrielle’s state of heightened awareness. His desires for her body likely bristled her nerved. Could this be a potential way to manipulate the exuberant girl? Rowan tucked away the thought for later as the magic circle settled, letting her work.
How much longer did she need? It’d been over an hour since the Paladin guards had been killed. Cpt LightWind should’ve respawned by now along with a few low-level players that’d been killed by the poison bombs. No players or Draco reinforcements had arrived on mounts. Peculiar. Something could be holding them up.
Though Gabrielle had mentioned in passing that personal flying mounts were all of unique rarity. And the speed one flew at depended on their class’s unique mount-riding skill. She had estimated less than fifty players had obtained a flying mount in all of alpha and beta so far—twenty years of in-game time. The vast majority of players had less than a year of in-game playtime, however. Alpha and early bet
a had been an unfortunate bore, lacking many features and exhibiting predictable AI. Gabrielle had clocked in at less than nine years of in-game time since day-one of alpha, putting her in the top 25 in time-played ranking. Aeon Chronicles had turned into an obsession for her, on and off.
Rowan glanced at his system clock. 5:43 PM. The sun would be setting soon—an advantage for dark classes. They received a 0.5% global damage and defense boost during the night while other classes received the bonus during the day. Those without classes received no boost.
The mimic stretched its jaw, revealing fearsome fangs and that same barbed tongue. Oh right, it had talked when it ate Rowan.
“Mimic,” Rowan said, neutral, “I know you can understand me.”
It snapped its jaw shut and looked at him. It spoke in a low, rumbling voice suited for a large panther. “Delicious one. Your dark mana was most tasty.” It chuckled.
Rowan snarled. “If you knew I have dark mana, why did you attack me? You knew I was after a Necromancer’s Tome.”
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