Rowan already understood the bloody game mechanics. It was all on the forums. “What tuning?” he demanded.
“A little one.”
“How little?”
“Quite.”
A frown tugged at Rowan's brow. It didn't appear the AI was going to crack on that one. Could he trust the AI controller like this? With his brain? It was the most important part of his body and defined who he was. He liked who he was—who he'd become after the forest accident. He was a weakling before. A sniveling, cowering little boy who didn't stand up to idiotic pigs that bullied the weak.
Then it dawned on him. He was slowly becoming exactly who Max was. He was the Max of this world. And the fact didn't bother him one single bit. He reveled in it.
The AI was right. This future was all too possible.
“Ahh, now you see,” Draesear said, “So… Would you like a little tuning to your implants before it’s too late?”
“Too late?” Rowan blurted before he understood a second later. The AI controller couldn’t program or directly modify an organic brain to the same extent. It was limited. The hardware was limited. Draesear—or the AI controller—had limited time before the implants degraded beyond a certain point.
Draesear nodded. “Two days, four hours, and twenty real-world minutes by my estimate.”
Twenty-four in-game days. Rowan considered the AI’s offer fully. He could become like his old self or at least more like his old self. Eighty percent of the implants were now fully organic. His brain would never be the same again. What if the AI made a mistake whilst modifying the remaining twenty? Perhaps he should think this through before undergoing such a procedure. The AI was no neurologist like Roth.
What if—
Rowan's eyes bulged at the realization. Roth had purposefully programmed the implants to be like this. There was no other explanation. Roth had been so prepared for that meeting. Everything had been prepared beforehand down to the credit-deposit in the real money marketplace. And Roth had been so calculating in the forest simulation two years ago. It had all been planned. A cold shiver swept his skin and tingled on his skull.
Roth had done this to him. And his beautiful Gabrielle had played at least some part in it—still working for Roth. Did she know what Roth had done to his brain?
The AI interrupted his thoughts. “Negative. That’s all I will say regarding her or the future if you accept could be altered in many ways.”
So she was innocent. Rowan sighed in relief. And hardened his face. “Do it,” he said strongly.
“Very well,” the AI confirmed, nodding. “And do not mention of this encounter again. We are currently in an… enclosed bubble which cannot be observed by the creators. I don’t imagine Vincent Roth will be… pleased to know what I’ve done.”
Rowan smirked at that as the scene dissolved to black. Roth will pay. And his beautiful Gabrielle will not turn into that hideous, depressed girl.
Chapter 17
Ione
A swell of mana pulsed through Rowan’s body as he found himself standing before the skull altar again. The swarm of spirits faded into nothingness and the twenty-foot skull’s flaring mana puffed away. A unique sensation rang and buzzed in Rowan’s head like flowing strands of electricity sparked through wires that hadn’t been connected in years. Of course, that was exactly what the AI controller had offered. Though this could just be its way of showing him the operation had completed, through a false-sensation. The brain itself didn’t contain any nerves to provide a sensation after all.
Rowan flexed his hands and patted down his body like in adventure movies. The action made zero difference apart from confirming his virtual body was in working order. He could still think and move every finger and muscle. So far so good. The AI hadn’t crippled his mind. He’d just have to assume his real-life body was in working order for now. His real-life body which was laying in a pod next to that bastard Roth.
Rowan didn’t need to sink into the aura of his Cracked Necromancer’s Keystone or focus on his breathing at that thought. How uncanny. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he thought he’d be. The AI had tuned down that part of his psyche. The sudden, drastic improvement was refreshing but felt almost like cheating—like he’d skipped a lot of work and struggle to improve that part of himself.
But it wasn't his fault in the first place. It was all Roth and his brainwashing implants. And Rowan's own fault too for not realizing earlier though there likely wasn't anything he could do. Roth was too powerful and too well-connected. The psychiatric director had been so afraid, so nervous about the meeting.
Rowan exhaled. At least some of the damage had been reversed. Twenty percent.
And plus, he wasn’t a wimpy weakling like before. Perhaps this could be an objective improvement. A healthy balance.
Oh! The icy void at the base of his neck was… gone.
Gone… Like his beautiful Gabrielle who hadn’t resurrected yet. Her cold, dead expression winked before his eyes, a different icy, tight sensation slightly tugging on his stomach, heart, and throat. Sadness. Dull, muted, and ghostly but still there. He hadn’t experienced this since… Rowan couldn’t recall. It had been too long.
Where was she? The Resurrection Stone should be a near-instantaneous respawn.
Before Rowan could ruminate on that, the electricity in his brain built up to a crescendo behind his eyes. A split-second blazing crack arced up his spine and neck.
The familiar cool and numbness of Ice-Dark mana rushed through his arteries, calming the distress he felt for Gabrielle. Information began flowing into his consciousness, first as a trickle and then in two packets of more than a school-semester worth of knowledge. Rowan had forgotten about the Necromancer ascension for a moment there.
First basic biology knowledge of flesh, bones, organs, etc and how it’s relevant to necromancy. More or less high-school level biology which he already knew most of. A fair compromise on realism and complexity.
Secondly, a general outline of skills and minions he'd find in scrolls throughout the world. Typical ice and dark spells flashed by his view, a handful of icy and dark blasts. No blizzard-type attack… The bone wand's blizzard spell was unique. There was a support spell here and there to bolster defense or damage. Minions included skeletons and zombies of various humanoids. Some casted bolts and other wielded bows. Most sported a sword and shield.
Nothing interesting or creative. The floating fortresses and the stitched giant from Draesear's vision weren't there. Neither was the enormous, destructive beam of Ice-Dark mana similar to Gabrielle's beam attack.
The download completed with a final mention of ice and dark being weak to fire and light. A dialog appeared.
You are now a Necromancer!
You have new innate class passives
You have 50 additional unassigned stat points
Strangely, the knowledge of the class passives hadn’t been uploaded to his mind. They had to be similar to the racial passives. And before Rowan could open his skill list window, another flood of knowledge assaulted his mind. It came as a continuous deluge of a deeper, more intrinsic understanding of the dark language, and tens of techniques to shape his mana for Ice-Dark skills. His cracked keystone reacted to the class change and influx of mana. It vibrated, its temperature dropping so quickly that Rowan pulled the thing from his chest. Emanating whisperers lapped at his lobes as the upload intensified. Rowan gripped his aching scalp, the whispers singing.
Behold the champions of Draesear and Ione.
Blood, flesh, bone, and mana. The power over life and death.
Destruction and creation. Let a cycle of an aeon begin.
The sacrifices of life and death are one and the same.
Before creation, there must be destruction.
Ice and flame and darkness and void. Your birthright granted by the gods awaits
An astonishingly complex and powerful skill became clear while the voices sang, Lesser Mass Raise. Now, this was a powerup.
New
Active Skill: Lesser Mass Raise
Raises multiple corpses near you
Channel duration: 30 seconds.
Mana Cost: 80%
Effect: 50 maximum targets. Usable on skeletons. Corpse decay weakens the resulting minion.
Tier Effect: Not usable on world bosses or targets of higher level than yourself
Your World Boss status has increased to tier 1! (You unlocked a class)
You have 10 additional unassigned stat points
You have unlocked your Tier 1 world boss bonus: Active skill: Lesser Mass Raise
The upload cut off in a sudden lash of mana whipping through his nerves. He stumbled onto a knee, keystone dangling in hand. Waves of misty ice and black fell off the onyx, the crack glowing in light-blue. He subconsciously Examined.
[Soulbound] Cracked Necromancer’s Keystone
A silver onyx amulet that is also a Cracked Necromancer’s Keystone. Some say they hear a whisper if they listen closely.
Rarity: Unique
Durability: Indestructible
Reduces the ambient temperature around the wearer
Opens a door to a Necromancer’s altar in any Dark Temple
+2 Magical Power
1 Ione’s Dark Conversion charges remaining (may be recharged at any dark-aligned Oculus)
Quest Update: Whispers From the Aether
Your Necromancer’s ritual reacted with your Cracked Necromancer’s Keystone, identifying the hidden modifier. It can be charged with the Ione’s Dark Conversion skill at any Dark Oculus
Rewards: Access to a Dark Oculus, ?
Finally, the keystone returned to normal and the ascension completed. Rowan dropped onto his bottom and laid on the stony, tiled floor, looking up at the dome ceiling. Gabrielle’s mana lamp lit the grey ceiling with a wavy blue light. That was the most intense experience he’d had in the game so far. He panted, cold sweat dripping off the sides of his face and dampening his linen underclothing.
Nodding away each dialog, Rowan paused at the one for his keystone. It had a skill charge like the charge lightning wand he’d killed the bandit thief with. Charged skills didn’t grant knowledge and were used upon a thought command, willing the skill to activate. He Examined the item modifier.
Active Skill Charge (1 remaining): Ione’s Dark Conversion
Rebirths Undead minions under your control to an altered, dark version of their previous life.
Effect: Maximum targets limited to your minion control limit. Returns a minion’s soul to its raised body from the aether and gives their body new life based on dark mana. Minions raised from players are given new souls exhibiting memory loss. Crafted minions from multiple corpse parts, building or vehicle type minions, and Undead demonic minions cannot be rebirthed. Rebirthed minions have free will but altered personalities leaning to evil of varying degree. (Warning: Rebirthed NPCs retain all memories of their previous life. Use with caution.)
Holy hell.
Rowan’s jaw dropped. His heart thumped with excitement. This was exactly what he needed to build up a glorious dark empire in this world. That dreadful vision Draesear pulled on him wasn’t going to happen with this gem hanging around his neck. Either the dark god was lying or Rowan really had become a far worse version of Max in that timeline, refusing to grant any of his minions' free will.
Or the AI controller had manually intervened just then, changing the unidentified modifier to this. It didn’t matter either way.
Now with a clearer, less-psychotic mind, Rowan vowed to use this power the instant it was time to start rebuilding this horribly cliched and annoying world. Evil leaning followers wouldn’t be so bad as long as they weren’t idiot piggies. However, the memory retention would be quite problematic. He’d need to rule with an iron reign or come up with some touching, heartfelt speech to sway the masses. The latter option already coated his tongue with a nasty, sour taste. Maybe a tyrannical reign wouldn’t be so bad… He’d at least be a fair ruler unlike how piggy-boy Max would likely be.
And the contract merely stated Rowan needed to be the final villain of the game. Breaking the agreement wouldn’t be wise. It was lucky that the clause gave him a fair amount of leeway. It could be executed in any way as long as he was perceived as the horrible hacker villain. Rebirthing everyone into darkness and rebuilding cities in his grand vision certainly counted. He hoped so. Though the Draconian capital could be spared—after some renovations.
The alternate timeline Roth had caused couldn’t be allowed at all costs. That dead, crumbling landscape bubbled up from within the depths of his mind. He swallowed at the sight of mindless, rotting horde of Undead. At Gabrielle’s sad face…
Gabrielle! She hadn’t resurrected yet!
Rowan glanced at the time—8:11PM! Where the fuck was she?! He flipped open his social interface and zeroed in on the only entry.
[Online, Dead] Gabby LeMort. Level 212 Occult-Engineer.
Still dead. Did the Resurrection Stone not work?
As Rowan typed a private message with his mind, he noticed Gabrielle’s current level. It was 212. Not 223. A well of worry settled in his throat as he contemplated what that meant. Something must have gone wrong with the ritual. Something to do with the black substance he mixed in with his blood. If the AI controller hurts her or turned his beautiful Gabrielle into that depressed mess… Rowan didn’t know what he’d do. He took a breath and resumed typing.
Hold on. Occult-Engineer?
* * *
A lit gold coin flipped in the total darkness of the death screen and landed on an invisible platform. It spun before it lost balance and landed on the eagle-side. Then shattered into pixel bits.
“Nope!” Gabrielle said and entered the command again.
Another coin blinked into existence and flipped. Eagle.
What were the chances? Gabrielle flipped again and reread the dialog just to make sure she wasn’t imagining the warning part.
World Boss Rowan Black has offered you an ascension to a World Boss
Do you accept? (Warning. Your ascension processes will consume 11 levels worth of character experience and lower every class skill tier by 1. Professions unchanged)
It was still there. Tempting her. Taunting her resolve. Eleven whole levels will be taken away at level 223. It had taken over three months of in-game time to level from 212 to 223 thanks to the exponential scaling in the game. The silly AI controller had somehow thought that was a good idea along with a super-majority of players. The result was a needlessly complicated scaling system, difficult to grasp without a spreadsheet. The number wouldn't change no matter how many times she flipped a coin. Eleven whole levels and a tier of each class skill gone to become a world boss.
Gabrielle had a vague idea of what her world boss skills and bonuses would be—something related to crafting or liquids. Maybe a new type of potion. Or more powerful poison bombs. Or even the ability to command an army of crafted voodoo dolls. Now that would be a bonus! She wouldn’t even need Rowan at that point for her glorious dark continent. Dolls were so much cuter than the Undead too.
Something foreign stirred in her chest when she considered continuing on without Rowan in the game.
She was getting attached.
Just because he was the only boy who kept showing interest after she opened her mouth.
No, she couldn't let herself fall into such a weakness. He'd only end up tugging on her strings in ways she didn't need. Or want. No matter how longingly her betraying mind and body desired such a trivial and lame thing. Really, it was funny to think of such a thing would happen to her. Gabrielle Roth Howe. "Now don't be silly, ya stupid body!" Gabrielle's giggle bubbled into the darkness as she buried the unwanted feelings.
Ambiguous Pain: What happened? Why are you dead?
Oh right. Her. She better have had held them off else her eyes would be made into potions.
Ambiguous Pain: They’re all dead BTW. The paladin was terrible and the mimic ate one. Dunno how Insane almost died to them LO
L.
Good.
Gabby LeMort: Yay! Rowan had to sacrifice me for the ritual. He’s a man now.
Ambiguous Pain: What?
Gabby LeMort: Ah… I mean a Necromancer. Not a man yet I think.
Only a virgin would drool at the sight of a naked girl like that. Or someone highly sex-starved. Hilarious.
Ambiguous Pain: Knew it on both counts! I can’t wait to get my hands on all those scrolls. And imagine all the lore books!
That was Ambiguous for ya. She played the game mostly for immersion, story, and lore—always chilling out in her mansion practicing spells or reading tomes. How she had been sorted into dark-aligned sometimes baffled Gabrielle but she saw the reason during battle. Ambiguous did what she wanted and killed without remorse or care like it was a side-duty in the game. Wiping out an entire party of good guys barely tickled her.
Aeon Chronicles Online_Book 1_Devil's Deal Page 20