by Charles Dean
“Guilt,” he answered from a dried-up throat as he wiped sweat from his forehead. This process had been nerve-racking, and even as the words left his mouth, he still wasn’t entirely sure about the answer.
“Acceptable,” the statue answered. The light from its eyes reached a blinding level of yellow luminescence, shining so strongly that Lee had to turn his head and shield his eyes from the light. The light dimmed after a long moment, and Lee turned back to see that the once-white stone was now half white and half yellow.
“Now,” the statue continued after the light had dulled. “you have answered; you must ask. You may pose three questions. These questions will also be used to test the nature of your gift, as a mind that can find any answer may be sharp, but without the right question, it is still useless. Therefore, the point and task of your questions are not to trick or deceive; rather, it is to prove that you have the ability to ask as well as you can answer.”
Lee was halfway through with this challenge, but he didn’t feel any sort of relief at that fact. He had answered tons of awful riddles on the Internet, but he had never been so great at coming up with them. Not to mention, what if he was expected to make it like a poem? His talent with words was as lacking as morals in Washington.
“So, I can . . .” He started to ask for clarification points but realized that he was about to ask one of the questions. If he didn’t meet whatever standard this statue wanted from him, he could only guess that the three beasts would kill him where he stood. He quickly continued, hoping that the rising pitch in his voice didn’t suggest to the statue that he had just asked a question. “I mean to say, my first question is thus: What is the nature of experience and levels, such that we gain experience but never lose it in this world?” He literally just spat out the first thing that that came to mind even though it was really was a question he wanted an answer to.
The light from the statue’s eyes turned blue this time, rather than yellow, as it answered. It said, “The nature of experience, as you call it, is that of your soul. Your body, made in the image of your identity, is the manifestation and realization of your soul’s true power. As you kill, you take fragments of the souls of the lives that you have destroyed, leaving enough that they reincarnate once more. As you complete tasks for those that have prayed, a part of their soul is also rewarded to you as a price for your efforts by the creator of this world. In these ways, through absorbing the excess of others, your own soul is fortified, and you grow stronger. You gain a thing that cannot be lost until your own life is taken and your soul re-enters the cycle once more.”
Lee felt like a bombshell had just been dropped on him. Are you kidding me? You’re telling me that . . . I’m currently a manifestation of my soul? You’re saying the reason I get stronger is because I’m not flesh. Lee looked down at his hands. That explains the damage system. I take damage, and I get hurt, but this hit point bar counting down to zero is probably a gauge of my soul’s integrity . . . how much damage it can withstand before it can no longer sustain itself within the vessel. But, in my real world, we’re flesh, not some magical spiritual mumbo-jumbo, so it must obey the laws of physics and entropy and lose what makes it strong little by little over time. “That’s insane.” The words escaped his mouth before he could put them back.
“You may ask two more questions,” the statue reminded him.
Now that he knew he didn’t have to come up with some obscure riddle, Lee took the time to think about what he needed to know. The first question had helped me understand a massive detail about this world that I had overlooked, but . . . Wait . . .!
“There is a blue box that often lets me see status updates and that items transfer into my inventory after I kill someone; yet, those items will disappear if they do not transfer to me. How is all this possible if this world isn’t a game?” Lee asked. His initial question was ‘Are we in a game world, or are we in a real world?’ but he changed it because he would be able to get two answers this way: whether or not this was a real world or a game world, and how and why the prompt function worked within the world. If it was actually a game, then the statue would just tell him that he was wrong in his assumption, thus answering the question.
The blue lights grew even brighter than the yellow had ever been, forcing Lee to squeeze his eyes shut and look away. He was actually thankful that the color wasn’t yellow again. Despite its intensity now, the other color had been even harsher on his eyes when it flared up.
“As a body is real, so are the things it touches. Since a body is imbued with and manifested by a soul, it may latch onto the things that it holds and touches. When the body dies, the items will be pulled with the soul, either being siphoned off as the piece that went with the soul to the victor, or the pieces that got pulled into the cycle of rebirth. As for the reasoning behind the notifications, I am not allowed to divulge that.”
So, everything in this world is built on faith and souls . . . souls that grow larger but never die.
“You, who have used your gift to seek the knowledge of how and why, have proven your worth. Still, I require that you ask one more question.”
If we’re composed of our souls, or rather, we’re made in the image of our identity by the realization of our souls or however she put that, then why do we age? If the spirit keeps growing stronger, not weaker, aging shouldn’t occur, right? He was curious, but he couldn’t waste this opportunity on such a simple question—especially not one that wasn’t pressing and would solve itself over time.
“What is the importance of the item you are holding?” he asked.
The blue light instantly enveloped the entire room, blotting out any traces of the yellow before withdrawing into the stone as if it were a fleeting shadow scurrying away from light. The two colors swirled in the stone for a moment, both yellow and blue fighting for dominance, until the two merged to form a perfectly smooth green sphere.
“This is a fragment of the World Stone. It is a piece that shapes the existence of this reality. It is also the key that will allow a Herald to win this battle in the War of Eternity in a wholly different way. Without the completion of the World Stone, the soul may only be made divine and fortified through the consumption of another Herald’s gift. In order to complete the World Stone, however, a Herald must pass a test for each of his divine gifts. By passing a test, the Herald’s divinity will connect with the corresponding fragment, and that fragment will be as much a part of the Herald as his own soul and will only be able to separate in death.”
“Wait, a gift from our deity’s divinity? My gift was tested? What was my gift that riddles and questions sufficed?” Questions spewed out of Lee’s mouth, but the statue said nothing in response. Instead, its white exterior turned black, and the green sphere levitated until it was a few inches above its hands. The three Krobkens simply turned to ash and fell into a thousand pieces, disappearing as if they had been blown away by a hurricane despite the fact that there wasn’t as much as a gentle breeze in the cavern.
Before Lee could even think about approaching the statue to collect his bounty, however, the green gem shot toward him. It painlessly penetrated his chest, and without even affecting the fabric of his shirt, completely disappeared inside of him.
What in the hell? Lee gripped his chest expecting to find an open wound.
You have just absorbed a fragment of the world stone. All of your primary attributes will receive a 5% passive boost. Your Intelligence will also receive a 5% passive increase.
“Lee!” Ling and Miller cried out in unison, but the entire process was over before the words even left their mouth.
“I’m fine,” Lee assured them. “Better than fine, actually.”
“That’s . . . good . . . but what the heck was going on there?” David asked.
“I was just answering the riddles,” Lee answered, taking a moment to glance back to the center of the room where the statue had been.
“Riddles? What language were you even speaking?” David asked in aston
ishment.
Huh? They didn’t understand me? Oh, that’s right. It was speaking English, so they probably had no idea what I was saying. English was labeled as an exotic language by the blue boxes, the notifications, or whatever they are that the game system wasn’t allowed to divulge to me.
“He was speaking the language of the gods, of course. What type of silly question is that?” Miller’s overly-enthusiastic faith squelched the line of questioning before it could go any further.
“Mmm. Let’s just get back to town. We have what we came for, and I got more than I expected too,” Lee said. He silently said goodbye to the statue that had filled him in on so much. He knew it was silly, but he actually kind of liked the overly-threatening, naked marble lady a lot more than most people he had met so far.
“Did we actually get what we came for?” Ling asked. “There wasn’t a map among the men.”
“Well, we found out that there is a barkeep who knows what we’re looking for, right?” Lee said. “There can’t be many barkeeps in Satterfield, can there?”
Ling started listing off the places in town. Given she had lived in the tiny hamlet her whole life, she was the ideal source of information. “There is Copper Lane, which has two barkeepers. One works the early night, and one works the late night. Then, of course, there’s Trader Jill’s, but the food is way too expensive, so very few people go. They only have a single girl running most of the establishment, bar included. Lastly, the only other place I can think of is Wenises Off the Table. It’s a fun tavern to go to, and they have three different barkeeps all working randomly. The food is alright at best, but the women there are really good at storytelling. It’s practically their main commodity, and the fact the girls telling the story are all . . . Well, even my dad has wasted several of our hard-earned coppers just to spend the night drinking and looking at their faces.”
Miller nodded along with Ling as she spelled out everything. “So, that leaves us with two suspects,” he concluded.
“What?” Ling asked. “I just told you there were at least six or seven!” she huffed.
“Nonsense! You said it yourself: Only one of the places employs guys, and there are only two there. Not to mention, they work odd hours, so they probably shift back and forth so that one of them can run messages.”
“What? So, a girl doesn’t count as a barkeep?” Ling’s ire toward Miller grew as they walked back toward the mine’s entrance.
“What? No, of course they count!” Miller looked shocked, and the fact that his drunken roar had just come off cooldown and was re-activated only added to the effect of his aghast expression. “I’m just saying, Didn’t the letter use the words ‘him’ and ‘he’ also when talking about the barkeep?”
“Oh, yeah . . . it did,” David agreed.
“Oh . . . umm . . . Well, we still can’t write them off.” Ling’s lips pursed up as if she had just bitten into a sour apple.
“Wouldn’t it still be three, though?” David asked. “I mean, far be it for me to interfere with the work of a good inquisitor Paladin such as yourself or tell you who you should or shouldn’t be burning, but aren’t there three male barkeeps—specifically barkeeps and not simply hired help— in the town?”
“What? Is there another bar we’re missing?” This time, it was Miller’s turn to scrunch up his face, though his expression was only vague considering his rough features.
“Ramon?” David answered, albeit as if he were asking a question.
“Huh?” Miller didn’t seem to register what David was saying at all.
“I’m saying that Ramon is a barkeeper, and he’s male. So, wouldn’t that make three?”
“You’re being silly. Ramon could never be the informant. He’s a good guy, and he’s the one who sent us here to find them.” Miller shook his head. “That’s why there are only two suspects.”
“But—” David tried to say something again.
“That’s why there are only two suspects!” Miller stomped his foot and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground as if he were doing another drunken shout, but nothing special happened since the cooldown was still in effect.
Following that, a long and awkward silence settled over the group since no one wanted to say anything to counter Miller’s declaration of trust in Ramon. The group just quietly worked their way back up the mountain—quiet, that is, apart from Miller continuously using his shout in order to train it up, and by the time they were near the entrance, Lee’s Appreciative Drunk had climbed all the way to Initiate Level 9.
“So, what’s the deal with you two anyway?” David asked at last as they exited the cave.
“I’m the Paladin, destined to lead his and my name into greatness as I spread the fires of damnation to every non-believer in the land!” Miller stated proudly. “In fact, you could say it all began fortuitously when—”
He started to rattle on, but David interrupted him. “No, I meant with Lee and Ling,” he clarified. “She seemed like she really wanted to say something to him earlier, but she’s been silent the whole time.”
“Oh, right. Right you are! Good eye, young apprentice.”
“I’m older than you,” David shot back.
“Age is nothing more than the hourglass our body gives us to measure a life, letting us count the passage of time with the passage of hair instead of sand from the top to the bottom of the container.” Miller chuckled at his own explanation. “Don’t let it be any more of a constraint to you.”
“Guru wisdom aside, how come you haven’t said anything?” David prodded Ling.
“Well . . .” Ling bit her lip. “I . . . I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“You could just try saying whatever you want. No one is going to judge you after the day we’ve had.” Lee just shrugged. He was equally at a loss of what it could be. From the way she had acted earlier, he wondered if it was going to be one of those fabled anime confessions he had heard about but never seen. As someone who grew up in the western world, the limit of his experience with women had always been just a slow progression from hanging out, to more and then to failure.
“Well, it’s hard to talk about when I still don’t understand anything at all. I don’t get it! Why couldn’t I think for so long? Did you do something to grant me the ability to think properly?” Ling asked.
“It hurt when you first did it, didn’t it?” David asked.
“Yeah, like . . .”
“Like a knife in the head, twisting and turning with each thought?”
“YES! Just like that! You too? Did Lee free your mind as well?” Ling asked excitedly.
“No, I guess you could say that the last Herald did. It started about the same time he made a visit to our humble mine. I don’t understand it myself. I only know that I couldn’t think before, that it hurt a lot, and now I can.”
“I see . . .” Ling looked down. “So, it’s a Herald thing. It’s what their presence does.”
David held his chin in his right hand as he looked at the floor. “Yeah, I reckon that’s a way to put it.”
“Well, I’m glad he could help you because I have no idea what you’re talking about. Sadly, I don’t know much, and what I do know, I don’t know if I can say.” Lee gave Ling a sympathetic look. Not being able to think her whole life until she met me? This must be a side-effect of being an NPC. It must be one of the mechanics that allows the game to control quests.
“Which means he knows everything, but as a benevolent deity, he won't take away the glory of exploration in the pursuit of truth,” Miller asserted, once more giving Lee far too much credit.
“Of course,” David agreed, nodding along with Miller. Lee wasn’t sure if he was humoring the guy or if he honestly agreed with him, but it was a funny sight to see.
“Hey, where did the rest of them go?” Ling asked, interrupting the moment. They had stepped out into the open, and only half of the former slaves that they had freed were still hanging around.
One of the liberated ra
n up and immediately dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “We . . . umm . . . I’m sorry, my lord. When you didn’t return after a long time, some of the older and sicker people started the journey down to the town. They didn’t think you’d make it, and they didn’t want to die up here or be stuck if that evil Charleton sent troops to check on the place.”
Another of the former slaves fell to his knees in front of Lee. “Please forgive us, oh great one. We tried to stop them! We tried, but we couldn’t convince them to stay! Please forgive us! Please overlook our failure!”
“Failure indeed.” Miller once again spoke for his friend before Lee could even collect his thoughts. “A simple task of waiting, and you failed even that! Have faith in your god, and you failed that too! For shame! For Shame!” he yelled, slamming his spear down and letting out another drunken shout.
The entire crowd all lowered their heads, half in apology and half from shock over suddenly being wasted as a side effect of Miller’s outburst. While the whole matter was serious, the sight of it was amusing enough that Lee actually had to suppress his instinctual chuckle lest he burst out laughing.
“Shame indeed.” David nodded along with Miller. “A travesty. We should hunt the dog—”
“We should try and understand what they’ve gone through,” Lee interjected, cutting them both off. “These are people who have suffered a great deal and gone through even greater hardships. Don’t look at them or judge them. Faith is like an archer, not a sword at one’s throat: one can only imagine where it is. It is hard to be mindful of it when its presence so rarely blesses us. Instead of cursing and damning those that left”—Lee looked at the followers still in front of him before kneeling down and bowing his head so low he was inches from kissing the ground—“let me instead show my thanks and sincerity to those that listened when there was nothing to gain.”
“No, you shouldn’t bow to—” Miller tried to stop the groveling obeisance, but Lee didn’t let his follower get away with pushing him around this time.