by K. T. Hanna
So she gathered all of her will, and all of her frustration, remembered the anger she’d felt when Jirald had trained her, remembered how if too many of those damned things hit her, she was a goner—and she pushed outward. A strange blip sounded, like a bubble forming underwater, only it rippled out from her center as it if was a balloon being blown up so that the arrows could pop it.
Congratulations. You have unlocked the kinetic arm of your psionicist abilities. Please see your trainer. You know, when you’re not busy.
She barely had time to register the words, as the last of the shield popped. It only let one arrow through its defense, but it buried itself deep into her side. “Shit.” She grimaced and as she noticed her health bar begin to drop lower, ticking away at her life. “Shit.”
Sinister glanced over at her, from her position behind Devlish and shouted out to Ver. “Disease heal on Mur!”
A second later, she felt ten thousand times better, except the bloody barbed arrow was still stuck in her body, and the wound was slowly dripping. There was no way in hell this was going to be painless to remove. She gritted her teeth together and cast Mind Bolt once more on Intanka, gasping at the jolt that wracked through her body when she did so, causing the barbs to sink in deeper.
Murmur’s head began to spin, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the arrow and everything to do with the fact that she’d used Mind Bolt five times in a short period of time. But the thing was, that would have knocked her on her ass back at level sixteen. Now, she could do it. Now she had to do it.
The guard who’d been in front of her struggled to his feet, his health low, but not dead. He must have been knocked out. Ushering her behind the wall, he motioned to one of the village medics to come to them.
“Sorry, miss. I didn’t see that coming.” He sounded winded, and wheezy.
Murmur shook her head. “It’s fine. I didn’t react quick enough. I should have protected myself better.”
While she was distracted talking to the guard, the sneaky little medic broke off the front of the arrow and pulled the shaft out through the wound. The scream that tore from Murmur was enough to make her throat hurt. Her world spun. Her stomach churned. Her head threatened to black out. A crow cawed from the wall above her, and Murmur echoed its indignant sentiment.
She gripped at the guard’s arm, gasping for breath and glared icily at the medic.
“Sorry. But it seemed like a good time. Also, we were lucky only the front part of the arrow was barbed, or this could have gotten nasty. Let me heal it up for you. Don’t want to leave a nasty rent in that armor now.” The medic was a sweet, middle-aged woman with light brown eyes. In a way, she reminded Murmur of her mother.
“Thanks.” Murmur said, a little shakier than she’d intended. She clasped her shields tightly around her, her net cast out wide, and stood up once she’d been properly healed. “I’m good. I’ve just got a couple more things to do.”
Murmur headed out, the guard patched up and by her side. She’d have to remember to ask him for a name later, but right now it was all she could do to keep herself walking upright.
Her attention turned to her MA, and she frowned. It ticked up far too slowly for her liking in a battle like this. Surely there had to be a hidden ability regeneration spell of some sort.
The stench of blood and feces, urine and sweat, hit her as she passed through the gates to the fields of slaughter. Dead bodies, mostly of the invaders, were trampled on the field, nowhere near their decomposing state. Death stood before her, and she wanted to weep. All because they killed a stupid in-game bear.
It’s a game.
It didn’t matter what her mind tried to tell her, the reasons it tried to list out for her, everything felt real. For her, everything was real. Because here was the only real she had for now. She didn’t want to contemplate what might have happened had her freakishly well-timed unlocking of that skill not happened.
Devlish’s health bar kept dipping dangerously low despite both Sinister and Veranol’s best healing efforts. She could see them warding him, casting heal over times, and topping up his health constantly. Hell, Sin even diminished her own health a couple of times to top him off. Murmur’s temper snapped. Stomping back onto the battlefield, ahead of her protector, she cast Mind Bolt on Intanka, followed by her flux stun when that wore off. The latter got resisted, but she didn’t give up, and cast another mind bolt just as the first was wearing off, despite how much her head was spinning. The only way to get better at using her MA was to use it, right?
Devlish laid into the boss as soon as the Mind Bolt stuck. She could see him cast Hatred and Terror and wail on Intanka with everything he had. The boss was unable to cast defensive spells against his onslaught, and his weapons found purchase more often than not now. Her armor began to show true signs of the battle with rips and holes peppered through it, but she still seemed capable of high-level avoidance. Shir-Khan and Beastial finally joined in the fight after demolishing several of their own opponents. Mur watched them trigger their fusion moves, snapping at vital body parts, and only grazing them instead of landing full impact. Finally Merlin finished picking off the riders with his fire arrows and began to lay them into Intanka as well. A resounding thud hit her right in the chest as she tried to dodge everyone else’s melee attacks, taking her by surprise and scoring a critical amount of damage. Her armor caught fire momentarily before flickering out, causing more extended damage as well.
Leeroy was no longer a wobbly skeleton. Havoc’s level twenty upgrades had increased his pet’s power and transformed into a weird specter complete with a creepy death scythe. Intimidating and freaking awesome. Havoc hung levitating in a cloud of black, beaming with pride as he renewed DoTs and pet buffs from a distance.
Murmur flung her last Mind Bolt, ignoring the pain searing through her head, and focused on taking Intanka down.
Somnia Online Location: Ululate
Dunkel Inn—Meeting Room Two
Day Eight Post Launch
The city of Verendus has successfully repelled an invasion by the clans of Noch’Mar nomad elves, with the aid of the guild Fable. Verendus has gained a city level, and will soon begin construction on their next tier of defenses. Wood and metal workers are invited to apply for work detail.
Jirald blinked at the system wide message, and couldn’t help the growl rising in his throat. Again. How were they always everywhere? What sort of fucking magic had Murmur unlocked? So far ahead of him he couldn’t even see their backs. He clenched his fists and remembered what Sidius said. Keep his eyes on the goal, don’t deviate, and do everything to get to it. Do everything it takes to be the best, to pull his guild along with him. Regardless of his own skill, he needed others on his level. Somnia wasn’t a solo environment. As long as he set out to get those Shards, everything should go well. Then he could prove himself, prove that he and his guild were the best, were better. Better than her. Better than Fable.
And he’d make her pay for deleveling him. Tenfold.
Masha cleared his throat and Jirald turned, raising an eyebrow at his healer. “What?”
“You looked deep in thought, so I tried to give you warning I was here. I don’t want you sinking one of those things into my eye socket by accident because I startled you.” Masha rolled his shoulders and eyed the throwing daggers with their wicked blades, almost hidden up and down Jirald’s leather armor.
The rogue cocked his head to one side and studied Masha. He’d never really understood the cleric. The healer never seemed to mind Jirald’s assertions that he was the best, nor did he seem to care who came out top in a competition of healing. Even in this game, where Jirald had thrown a fit and a half when the system allocated him as a rogue, Masha just stood there, patient and congenial, and rolled with the punches. He knew Masha was very probably the closest thing he had to a friend in the game or the world, a feeling that was uncommon for him—and
perplexing. Friends meant you had to worry about losing something, and Jirald tended to prefer fighting for himself and only himself. That way he avoided having to do things for others, but also avoided having to have others used against him. It was a win-win situation. But Sidius was right. Despite everything else, there were sometimes things one just couldn’t do alone.
He chose to scowl at the cleric with his most ferocious look. The sharp teeth that inundated the mouths of the locus always helped sharpen that image. “You’re really more of a bother than you should be, Masha.”
The cleric shrugged good-naturedly.
“I’m done with my set up, and we’re just waiting on you and the tank. We leave for Pelagu in the next ten minutes, so get your alien ass on the move so I don’t have to drag you out by your tentacles.” Masha pushed off with the foot that was resting against the wall and glanced at Jirald again, his brow furrowing. “You should probably stop all your machinations shit, and just do what Ishwa says. He’ll get us to the top, or close to it, and all we have to do is cling on and do our jobs. Stop getting distracted by that pretty little head of hers. She’s a damn fine player. The only way you’ll beat her is if you keep your wits about you and knuckle down.”
Apparently satisfied with his lecture, Masha turned on his heel and left Jirald gaping after him.
The rogue punched the air fiercely, his irritation threatening to turn into anger. He knew he had some issues to deal with, but damn it. He was already trying to make sure his revenge didn’t get in the way of his success. Sure, it might be an uphill battle because she damned well deserved to be taken down a few notches, or levels, he wasn’t picky. Revenge was his driving force, and it made a mighty fine motivator.
Still. He picked up his weapons eyeing each blade as he did. They were deadly sharp. Poison vials lined his pockets for quick application, and he reworked his gloves into place to strengthen his punches.
They needed levels, and they needed them fast. Ishwa mentioned something about a place he knew of where the levels would come quickly with certain fudges on mechanics. How he knew this, Jirald had no idea, but that little gnome always had tricks up his sleeves. Hanging around him was never dull.
Armed and geared, Jirald slipped a few potions into his inventory and headed out the door to join the others. Revenge was a great thing, but now he wanted more—more than just to show Murmur. He intended to show the world.
Murmur sat on the floor of the city center building and stared at the huge fire roaring in the fireplace. Warmth trickled out to her like fingers of heat threatening to tickle her into warmth, yet...her core was frozen.
This world was real, even if the guards who’d died managed to come back from their death several hours later, even if the NPCs she already knew by name were gone for a day, they’d return eventually. But they’d remember the pain and everything, wouldn’t they? Because unlike other games, the people in this one remembered everything. Like the grudge the bandits held against them that would never be forgotten or forgiven. In this world any mistakes you made were etched into it, in an eternal memory bank.
The thought was sobering. They’d just made a powerful enemy. Another powerful enemy. They really needed to stop doing that.
Was this her world now? What if she never got out? At some point, she was going to die in-game. Surely she couldn’t avoid it forever.
“Mur?” Sinister sat down next to her, and leaned her head on her shoulder. “You’re being extra quiet. We’re all worried about you.”
Sin’s smell was still Harlow, even in this world. Soft and gentle, with a hardened core of steel, her best friend always knew just what to do to make her feel better. Murmur leaned into the hug, loving the tangibility. For a couple of moments she just soaked the proximity up before speaking. “I’m okay. I’m just wondering about things far too philosophical for this time of day.”
“Speaking of which...” Sinister hesitated. “We’re going need to sleep a bit. I’m so sorry. I was not expecting to fend off an attack after spending hours leveling to twenty.”
Ah, that was right, Murmur sighed. Her friends would leave and she’d be stuck here. It had been nicer when she didn’t know she could stay in-game. Easier to just go with the flow. But at some stage surely she’d have wanted to leave the house, and then what would her mother have done?
“I’ll see you in several hours then, I guess.” Murmur tried to smile, but loneliness crept over her. She glanced at her experience and realized she was almost level twenty-one. The battle had been good for something. “How are Mellow, Dansyn, and Havoc dealing with their experience losses?”
Sinister grinned and motioned over to where the three of them sat commiserating with each other, just before they all vanished with their log outs. “Fine. I think. Havoc was always one of the first of us to level, so he’s pissed, but he’s not as pissed as the other two.”
Murmur chuckled. “Go get some sleep, Sin. I promise I’ll still be here.”
Sinister hesitated, and then leaned in for a huge hug and planted a small kiss on Murmur’s cheek. “You better still be here. I won’t forgive you if you’re not.”
Murmur turned her face so Sin wouldn’t see her blush as a plethora of sparks crashed through her system. The game was far too real. “Shush, you. Go and sleep.”
She watched as Sin grinned impishly and sat down cross-legged, eyes focused in front. After a few seconds and a wave of her hand, Sinister disappeared.
Several minutes passed, and Murmur pushed herself to stand up. Should she try sleeping in-game? Would that even work? There were beds everywhere, after all, she mused as she looked around at all the NPCs still being bandaged up. Almost twenty-one, huh? She’d not seen Telvar for a while—maybe she’d hop across to their castle, visit him and drop off some of the mass load of loot she was carrying and shove it in the guild vault before activating it for world deposits. Chat for a bit. Visit Neva, and then come back here and see if she couldn’t...solo a bit. It was time she took Thought Projection and Charm and saw what she could do. That it might be more deadly—or way too risky—crossed her mind. But she wanted to live a little. For some reason she felt stifled, confined.
Her decision made, Murmur recalled to their home.
For a brief moment a wave of disorientation brushed over her, and this time it left her standing, staring out at the beautiful water of the lake. Her mind under control this time, she didn’t damage anyone. The fact that it was also late in the game night probably helped. Still, she wasn’t reeling from sudden revelations, nor was she upset at anything.
The castle, even in the shadows that the moons threw down, was absolutely beautiful. Still half ruined, it was obvious that the construction was well on its way.
“Murmur?” Telvar’s tone was soft, like the night air, and washed over her giving her skin chills as it rang through her body. A pang ran through her. She missed Harlow.
But she turned around and grinned. The lacerta seemed surprised to see her, but she could tell it was only surprise and not a disappointment. Maybe he’d missed her company as much as she missed his. As infuriating as he could be, his proximity calmed her, and his penchant for actually telling her what she needed to know endeared him to her tenfold. It was difficult to remember sometimes, that he was what he was.
“The others logged off.” She shrugged her shoulders and walked into the castle with Telvar following. “They need their sleep.”
A bitter half laugh tore from her throat before she could stop it, and she halted, staring at nothing in front of her.
“You know...” Telvar walked around the side and leaned against the wall. “For someone who just stopped a rather huge invasion with the Verendus guards, you’re a little gloomy.”
Was she? Probably. She couldn’t pretend this whole coma thing didn’t affect her. She felt normal here, but she knew she wasn’t.
“I’m an exception to the rule.
The last person who traversed into the game world managed to blow his mind apart inside of minutes. So excuse me if I’m a little testy about being here and what that means for me.” Except she knew she sounded childish and spoiled and impatient and... “Sorry. I’m just still dealing with a lot.”
“You are. But you’re safe here.” Telvar’s smile was kind. Far different to the ones Belius directed her way, and she knew instinctively he meant on the island with him, not necessarily in the game world. She wasn’t sure if it should put her at ease or not.
“I’ve got two more Shards.” This time they were already wrapped in the remnants of her silver robe, and she handed them over. “For studying. Let me know what you find out.”
Telvar took them and smiled. “Did you come here to give me these, or did you just want to chat?”
I just wanted to see you, to see home sat on the tip of her tongue, but it clogged in her throat and she thought better than to say it out loud. The sentiment wasn’t real in a game world, was it? “Maybe both. I dunno. I think I might go kill some shit by myself and work out some of my own aggressions.”
Telvar grinned. “That can work, but if you leave without saying hi to Neva, she’ll probably kill me. Or make me wear a top hat, and I’ll gladly opt for the former.”
Murmur laughed, genuinely feeling the tightness in her chest lighten. She had no idea what was wrong with her emotions, but they were a hot mess since the revelation about her situation. “Thanks, Tel. I think I’ll go see her before I set out on my own.”
He nodded, and leaned in briefly, giving her a quick and surprise hug.
She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You okay?”
Telvar chuckled slightly. “Yeah, but I know that sometimes, especially as things are now, the tangible aspects of this game are a thing you need. A hug seemed like a good idea.”
“Thank you.” And she meant it, determined to gain strength and be the rock she needed to be. As she turned to go, he cleared his throat.