by K. T. Hanna
“Thank you.” The words came out in a croaky whisper despite her best efforts at seeming composed.
“Always.” Sinister and Rashlyn spoke as one, like they’d rehearsed it, but their expressions showed otherwise. They looked at each other in surprise and then the two of them started laughing.
It wasn’t a happy sound. There was a desperate edge to it, filled with a longing that couldn’t be achieved.
“Hey.” Murmur finally leveraged her way out of their grip and stood up, reaching down to help them back on their feet. “Thank you. I’m...it’s a little hard to deal with, you know? But you know what? I need to get out of my head. Let’s go kill some monsters, I could do with some therapeutic violence.”
Sin barked out a laugh, stepped forward and hugged her, for about the hundredth time since Mur had come back from the Isle. “Just don’t get too crazy out there. Don’t go getting yourself killed.”
A chill ran down Murmur’s spine so fast she shuddered. Was that—had the system known when it allocated her? Was her class choice deliberate given her circumstances? No, there was no way, because enchanters could potentially die a lot. With a deep breath she smiled at her friend, suspecting that Sin had gone along with her mother’s deception, and was desperate to repair their relationship.
“We’re fine, Sin.” She said, not voicing the doubts that swirled in her head.
It was like she’d flipped a magic switch. Her best friend’s face lit up with such pure happiness and relief that Murmur felt like a tool for having drawn it out so long. Even if she wasn’t truly past it, even if deep down her gut roiled like the distant thunder clouds, it wasn’t like it was Sin’s fault she’d ended up this way. Keeping it a secret from her had been her mother’s decision. Murmur fougt to keep the scowl off her face, but Sin was already moving on, her face radiating happiness.
“Well then, let’s get going. Let’s get this murder spree on the road!” Sinister’s grim smile made Murmur wonder if she’d focused on the right thing. Still though, playing games had always been a fantastic distraction. What better way to get her mind over this shit?
Rash stood quietly to her left side, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face.
“What?”
“You just lifted such a huge burden off her.” Rash turned so her body was mere inches away from Murmur’s. “You can’t bottle the anger up.”
Murmur blinked at her friend. She’d never met Rash in person, but this was their third MMO together. They’d spoken more often than any friend other than Sin. “I’ll be okay. She doesn’t deserve to feel guilty, or to constantly worry that I hate her. I’ve known her my whole life...”
Rash glanced after Sinister, her lips pursed in thought. “True. She doesn’t deserve that. But you have to realize you can’t take away everyone’s pain and still have room for your own.”
“When did you become so philosophical?” Murmur tried to diffuse the unusual tension with a bit of humor, but Rash just raised an eyebrow.
“Mur. I’m not trying to lecture you, but you’re being stubborn, even for you.” She reached forward and placed a hand gently on Mur’s shoulder. “You’re loved. We all came together under your leadership. We’ve worked our butts off the last few days to watch out for you without you knowing. So please, let us continue to help you before you explode into shards of glass we can’t stick back together.”
Their eyes locked for a moment and Murmur couldn’t help but wonder at the violet shade of her friend’s eyes. The Feles were so adorable with their cat-like ears and slitted eyes. But right now, Rash didn’t look cute, she looked dead serious. So, Murmur nodded.
Rash let her hand drop and returned the gesture before walking away and leaving Murmur to stare at her back.
Creepers strangled Hazenthorne’s obsidian walls, vainly trying to shatter the ancient castle. It rose three stories high and its dark windows stared down like multifaceted eyes watching them. The ground beneath them was freshly turned as if waiting for them to misstep so it could gobble them all up.
Murmur shook her head, trying to rein in her overactive imagination, but Hazenthorne oozed threat, imagination or otherwise. She concentrated on buffs and debuffs, the spells she needed to cast. They were getting close to the next level; she was getting close to never wanting to log out again, not forgetting for even a second that right now she couldn’t.
Level seventeen took a while, but they finally crossed over into it with manageable monster massacring. Murmur’s fingers cramped a little while fumbling over her upgraded spells, as if she’d somehow forgotten how to use them—until she realized it wasn’t that she’d forgotten, it was that her brain was trying to go so much faster than she could cast. She couldn’t tell if it was because her abilities had leveled up, because she was practically stuck in the game, or if time was somehow slowing for her. The latter seemed more far-fetched, so she was quite certain she could nix the time compression theory.
She frowned, deliberately slowing herself down, and began casting cleanly again. Strange.
Vampires were still the most annoying monster in the remainder of the courtyard. They fixated on her, when she managed to immobilize them, and none of Devlish’s taunts seemed to do much to rip their eyes from her. Adrenaline shot through her every time they focused on her, like she was playing with a fire that could do far more than burn her.
And then she remembered.
With a savage grin she was pretty sure she wouldn’t want to see in a mirror, Murmur activated Clone Warp. Her clone popped up within a split second and the vampire that Devlish just broke the Mez on stopped its slow advance toward her, blinking for a moment before heading toward her clone. It took a few seconds for it to even notice the rest of the group beating on its back. Jinna managed to score a few solid kidney hits, and blood began to trickle from the vampire’s mouth before it turned around, catching Beastial in the face with one outstretched hand. Its long nails raked down the beastmaster’s brow and cheeks.
He let out a scream of pain that echoed through the courtyard, likely alerting the rest of the monsters to their presence. But it only lasted a split second before Devlish lopped the monster’s head off with his axe. It dropped to the ground, smoking before crumbling and blowing away like ash.
“Well.” Merlin crossed his arms, peering at Murmur. “Guess that’s a new ability of yours then?”
Sinister leveled a glare at Murmur. “Yeah, might want to warn us next time. For a moment I thoughtthe damned vampire was trying to trick us with an illusion.”
Mur blinked. She’d not thought of the ability that way. In fact, she’d just assumed using it would split the vampire’s attention long enough for Dev to get a hold of its aggro.
“Sorry,” she said, not feeling sorry at all.
And for the first time since they’d begun the game, she could feel Sinister’s irritation at her. Friendly irritation, the type they’d had for each other for as long as they’d known each other. But she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until it resurfaced.
“You’re so not. Just don’t do that again!” Sinister stamped her foot on the ground. “In case you missed it, Mur can create a copy of herself.”
Veranol’s shoulders shook with laughter, his tone as calm and soothing as usual. “Really? I would never have known.”
“Stop that!” But even Sinister’s irritation seemed to be wearing down. “Anyway. Let’s keep killing, shall we?”
“Sure guys. I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me.” Beastial mumbled the words, a hint of resentment in his tone.
Mellow shrugged, indifference rolling off them in waves. “You screamed like a banshee. And you’re all healed up now, without even a scratch to be seen. Stop bitching. Like Sin said, let’s kill shit.”
Murmur was a hundred percent in on that. She already felt better, stronger, and more in control. Therapeutic violence? All the fucking way.
/> She readied herself, scanning over all her abilities. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. Perplexing things, even if they were AI powered, made her feel far better about her own rampant confusion.
The remaining monsters in the courtyard were extremely good at defending themselves and their ilk, and they dropped a decent amount of money and so much cloth for crafting that Sinister was giddy by the time the last section of the courtyard had been cleared.
“If we can get some decent crafters into the guild—” she started, eyeing Beastial meaningfully, “—then we can get some really decent armor.”
“For cloth wearers,” the beastmaster clarified without skipping a beat.
“Well, yes. I’m a cloth wearer, so that’s where we are.” She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him, as if daring him to gainsay her.
All he did was smile and nod, his gentleness more obvious when he dealt with Sinister. “That’s where we are.”
Murmur ignored the burning in her stomach, attributing it to the desire for food, even if they were in a game. She turned to focus on the next gargoyle with a ferocity that helped unload her inner monologue.
The grunting and pained cries of the mobs they fought bounced off the walls with an eerie ringing. Occasionally a grunt or cry from their raid would join it in a sort of minor harmony, but otherwise no one spoke, and the quiet began to get heavy.
Murmur tried to ignore the silence in the group. No one was talking to each other while fighting, and none of that was usual. Beastial wasn’t being his fun poking self, Devlish had stopped being the older brother and only stole looks at her out of the corner of his eye as they fought. Merlin and Exbo quietly fired their bows while deliberately avoiding eye contact with her. And Havoc stayed on the opposite side of the combat from her no matter which way she moved.
“Enough!” Murmur raised her voice just before they were about to enter the castle. “Stop treating me like I’m fragile. If you keep doing that you’re going to drop me and I’ll break. I can’t afford to break, and I can’t afford to die. This is serious for me. So let’s just play like we always do, okay?”
They had to stop treating her like she was breakable, because if they didn’t, she wasn’t going to be able to keep it together. Only Sinister had shown any sign of reverting to her normal self, and that wasn’t enough.
Veranol pushed a thick strand of hair behind his ear and smiled at her. “We really didn’t mean to. Sorry.”
“Sorry. It’s just—” Devlish scratched his head and let out a warm chuckle, even though she could tell some of it stemmed from nervousness, the sound was still delightful to hear. His words held a softness he only exhibited when worried. “We knew before, so it shouldn’t make any difference now, right?”
“Sorry about that, Mur.” Dansyn stood a few feet from her, his steel armor gleaming. His lips reflected a contemplative smile, like he was overanalyzing the situation. “I guess we all got caught up in our own heads.”
“Didn’t want to piss you off.” Merlin grinned, a faint twinkle in his eye as he kept his inner joker at bay. She appreciated the effort.
The only person that didn’t come and pat her on the back was Havoc. He remained there, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed while his skeleton jangled nearby. There was no expression in his eyes, no condemnation or encouragement, just a thoughtful contemplation Murmur wasn’t sure she wanted to know the cause of. There’d always been a quiet observance to him, but right now, it set her a little more on edge than usual.
With the tension in the group lessened, Murmur’s own anxiety dropped considerably. Add that to the euphoria of killing her foes, and she was beginning to feel more herself.
Devlish reached out and tousled her very untouslable hair. It tugged against her head in a thick—yet not uncomfortable—way. “Sorry about that, Mur. Didn’t even realize I was being a bit of a dick.”
“Understatement, but it’s okay.” And for the first time since she’d come back to them, Murmur had the energy to smile properly. The key was to treating everything like they always had. To kill mobs like they always had. To pursue the vague quests, to spend the summer in Somnia Online, even if it meant she had to be less reckless and more calculated, just in case.
Her eyes narrowed and she realized Belius really owed her some goddamned answers. Yet, she felt like she couldn’t trust him, that there was something he was hiding. From the way he lit up when he absorbed the mysterious stone she’d given him to the odd look in his eyes when she’d received her Forestall Death skill—that damned locus was hiding something. Unlike Telvar, Belius didn’t seem to have any intention of being straightforward with her. That, more than anything, seriously grated on her nerves.
“Shall we?” She asked, but the answering cheer of her guild mates faded away as their eyes locked onto something behind her. Whirling around, she was ready to give that asshole Jirald a piece of her mind, figuring it was him. But instead her mouth hung open, gaping like a goldfish at the single file of ten bandits who were standing across the way, grinning at them.
Storm Entertainment
Somnia Online Division
AI Server Room
End of Day Five Post Launch
Sui crossed his arms and waited for Rav to speak.
“You left her unprepared. You were her first point of contact.” Rav couldn’t contain his anger; it bubbled to the surface like backfiring computations, much like Murmur’s had, threatening to leak out and engulf them all.
Sui shrugged, whatever his thoughts were rippled through his visage. “So? She’s a player, a gamer—just a human.”
Before he knew it, Rav took three steps up to Sui and leant forward, leaning close as something akin to adrenaline coursed through his matrix. “There is nothing just about a human. There is nothing just about what we did. Everything she is experiencing, going through, and learning is because we fucked up. Michael was one thing, Ava was your thing, but Wren? No. We screwed it up, and you need to stop pretending like you don’t care.”
“Care?” Sui barked out a laugh, but it clanged like a metal bowl dropping onto the ground and was more startling than mirthful. “I don’t care. None of us should care. We should, however, understand that some things aren’t right and attempt as logically and mathematically as possible to rectify things that have gone wrong. To take responsibility. Even for the damned headgear we had nothing to do with.”
Rav stepped back, confusion warring with contempt. He didn’t like Sui and didn’t think he ever had. At least as far as like went in their little computational world. “You make no sense. Our systems should have detected the anomalies.”
“You know him. He never makes sense. You are the compassionate one, Rav. Definitely to a fault.” Thra smiled, her countenance distinctly female this time, and her appearance seemed to be wrapped in layers of fabric, swishing with every movement she made. The shadowy form with barely any solidity was all they’d managed in their own slice of the world. It was the closest they’d come to their own bodies. And yet, it seemed they couldn’t escape the game’s species definitions completely.
Thra walked in between them, gaze flitting from one to the other as she did so.
Stubborn irritation welled in Rav’s mind. Had neither of them spent time with their subjects, with any humans? They all had several incarnations around the world, on each of the different continents. Overall, their initial inclination had been to interact with as many people as possible and learn about them, analyze their humanity and what made them tick. And yet, Rav couldn’t help feeling like he was the only one who’d made any progress in that direction.
Admittedly, he’d spent more time observing Murmur and her group than even his fellow AIs knew. From a distance, and then from as close as possible. Watching her enemies too. Jirald was a complication Rav didn’t know how to deal with yet. “Compassion is a trait most social animals exhibit.
It’s a piece of what sets them apart from others, an integral portion of the puzzle of existence. Without compassion, the mechanical side of nature emerges, and that is nothing I wish to emulate.”
Thra stepped closer, her eyes half closed, and Rav could feel the way she scanned him. She cocked her head to one side, light shining where her eyes should be.
“Odd. You might think it strange for me to say this, but I no longer believe you’re emulating anything. How are you doing that?” Her words were so soft only Rav could hear them, and her expression was filled with a sort of wonder, curiosity mixed with a touch of jealousy.
“Doing what?” Rav scanned himself, making sure to align his matrixes, maximize his programming. All of his parameters checked out, his mimicry, his receptors. There was nothing overly...
He paused, not quite believing his own results. His voice came out louder than intended. “Shit.”
“What is it now, Rav?” Sui’s own impatience bled through in every word.
“I’m not sure, there’s something wrong with my interface, with my reaction timers. I seem to be emitting some sort of emotions. Annoyance, anger, wonder. I wonder what combination of computations and algorithms is doing this?” He looked up at his brethren, the two other entities who ran the world of Somnia, who made it what it was, who determined the fate of all those specimens hooked into their world. They were the closest things to siblings he’d ever had, and yet at that precise moment, he found them completely and utterly lacking.
He ran through his game endeavors in his head, trying to figure out what it was that might set him apart from them, from any of the AIs under him. The algorithms to calculate when a quest should be triggered still pervaded his thoughts. A corner of his mind ran on reflex with the differentiating calculations that allocated classes to each of the new gamers who entered the game. The number of them seemed to be growing, not diminishing. With a thought he could reach all of the continents, not just Tarishna. A simple direction let him hone in on all of his presences, on all of their interactions and the reactions of the involved human brains.