by D Richardson
Yet I did not want to completely walk away. The NPCs of this world were so incredibly realistic in how they acted and behaved, it was mesmerizing. He was so… free. “Do a lot of nipsies hate players?” I asked.
“Huh? Oh.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m probably one of the few with my head on straight. These youngsters haven’t seen a damn thing, not a damn thing, so they don’t know a damn thing.” His eyes turned dark, his smile devious. He snapped his attention to me, glancing around for others nearby – we were in a crowd, but none seemed to notice us. He eased down into a whisper. “You seem like a smart girl. A smart girl, yes. You ought to come player-killing with us.”
“Oh,” I murmured. Getting stabbed by a wandering creeper was not on my to-do list. “I, uh, I’m a pacifist.” I grimaced, for even I knew how unbelievable that excuse was. I looked around for any avenue of escape.
He paused. The color drained from his face. Did he figure me out already? He stepped closer, his eyes unblinking and vacant as he reached into his pocket. I stumbled back. “You,” he uttered. “You are—"
I punched him in the face. I didn’t even need to – I just panicked.
The old guy yelped and tumbled to the ground. People in the crowd began to turn to watch the commotion, and before I realized it, I was the center of attention, standing like a villain who had just decked a senior citizen. This was bad. Whispers and murmurs. Pointed fingers and accusatory glances. The old man writhed in exaggerated agony. Then the guards came.
“Ma’am,” the guard said from underneath his helmet, “explain what happened here.” He gestured at the old man who was still curled up in the fetal position. “Why did you punch this old dude?”
“I, uh,” I stammered. “He was about to—"
“He was about to attack her,” a girl said behind me. I looked over to see a dark-skinned girl, my height, with blonde hair and white tattoos. Her suit of armor was scuffed and dinged up, and a taller boy stood beside her.
“I am also a witness.” The guy was young, my age, with windswept black hair and a confident smile. This was the avatar of the weeaboo. He was dressed in heavy white robes and held a long wood staff. It looked like a thin piece of driftwood. “She was only defending herself.”
The guard stared at us for a painful few seconds, then at the old man, then back at us before nodding. Maybe he was sizing us up, maybe he was plotting a murder. Regardless, the guard’s icy stare chilled me to my core, and I wanted to be far away from here. “Fine,” he said. “Just keep out of trouble.”
I sighed. The tension deflated in the market square. The crowd returned to its usual business, the possible serial killer was scooped off the ground and carried away, and the world kept on turning. “Thanks,” I said, looking over at the couple who helped me.
They were staring me down with hungry, predatory eyes and a lust for adventure. "Don’t worry about it,” the guy said with a charming smile. It was contagious. “Hey, you seem new, what level are you?" The girl kicked the back of his knee. "Ow! Sorry, I’m Smith." His voice was wine.
"I'm Simone!” the girl said. “Level 3 Knight!" Her voice was a strawberry smoothie. "Smith is still just a level 1 healer.”
"I'm... I'm Alex. I'm a soon-to-be level 5 mage. It's nice to meet you."
"Oh sweet," Smith said. "Hey, we're looking for members for a new guild I'm trying to start." He presented a scroll. On it, a couple names had been scribbled, and beneath them, a number of blank lines remained. "We only need a few more signatures to start."
I gave it a good look over. The White Lions, he wanted to call it. I originally wanted to explore the world solo before I found a group. "Hmm..."
"Ha. How about I sweeten the deal," he said. "10 gold?"
"Is that a lot?"
"Well," he trailed off.
"He has a few hundred," Simone said with a wink.
I smiled back. I was already sold by their chemistry, and it was the least I could do after they just saved me. "Alright." I took their writing pen, surprisingly not a quill this time, and wrote in my name before handing the scroll back. "Now what?"
"Thanks!" Smith said. "Now we keep looking for a few more. Keep in touch until then!"
"Wait, how?" I asked. "I can't just call you from the other side of town, I don't think."
"Oh yeah, here." He brought up his hand and swung open his menu. It was a floating blue holograph that held an array of information.
"How did you open that?" I spit out. "I can't get mine to work." I mimicked the motion, but my screen still didn't open.
Smith chuckled at the attempt. "It's because you're an NPC, right?"
I crossed my arms at the accusation. "No," I said with narrowed eyes. "I'm not.”
Smith pulled his confused expression to Simone as if she could help him in this awkward moment. She gave me an empty smile and said, "We can see who the players are and..."
I scoffed. "It's fine," I waved away the tension. "It's probably just a bug or something." They laughed at the thought.
"Anyway," he continued, "take this item." He pulled up a list, tapped on a selection, and a small paper ribbon manifested in front of him. Catching it, he pushed the menu out of existence and handed the paper to me. "Whenever you want to chat, just use this."
I picked it up from one end and inspected it like it was a type of fish. They chuckled at me.
"You write on it," Simone said. "It'll pop up on our feed, and our chat also connects to yours. It won't work until the guild is started."
I shrugged and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, using the ribbon to tie it in place. Smith laughed, to my confusion, before catching sight of another passerby. "Oh, that dudes a rogue, I think. Hey! Excuse me!" He took off after the other stranger.
Simone tossed me a handful of coins. "You're a strange one," she smiled. "I like that." She chased after Smith and disappeared into the crowd.
Chapter 4
The Fire Mage
I stood outside the door of the cabin. This was where I would find the mage trainer to certify my level, but there was a problem. This was the place from yesterday.
The entire walk here I avoided eye contact with every person I passed and even then I could feel the glares. Was I just imagining it? Did they recognize me?
The voices inside were having a conversation, something casual I thought. I didn't want to be a pest, so I waited for the perfect opportunity, the perfect lull to knock. When the moment came, I raised up my fist, and—
The door opened.
Standing there was the young guard from yesterday, the one who kept calling me ma'am. He stared down at me with wide eyes, mouth open from the shock and confusion, and he eased the door back shut in front of me.
My fist still raised, frozen in a knocking motion, my body unmoving as I stood in disbelief. That turd ignored me! I kicked the door hard enough to rattle the frame. It opened again.
"Fruit girl!" he yelled. His body had tensed, ready for a fight.
I felt the blood rush to my face, both in anger and in embarrassment. "I'm... I'm here for the fire mage!" I shouted. "And I brought this as an apology." I held up a small bushel of apples. It was the least I could do, and it cost half the money I had. I hoped the gift might take the brunt of the awkwardness.
He stared at me with a blank expression for a moment. A woman behind him called out. "Bring her in."
"Yes, priestess," he said.
I walked around him, not bothering to even glance at the boy, and made my way inside. The place was mostly unchanged, but now it smelled of sulfur and ash. The priestess was sitting at the table, half writing in a document, half studying an unlit candle. She was adorned in the same robes as yesterday, but with her hair pulled past her ear and glasses on her face. The lady was older than me I thought, in her thirties but with porcelain skin of a girl a decade her junior. She did not look up from her work when she spoke. "So the lunatic wants to play with fire." The young guard chuckled as he stepped out into the grass to l
eave.
I could feel my ears getting hot. "Sorry about before. I brought something as an apology." I handed her the bushel.
"Thank you." She set her quill down and took an apple. With a bite, she nodded at the chair across from her. "Sit."
I eased into the chair and glanced at her work. The candle wasn't unlit at all, but instead, a tiny white flame lined the edges of the wick, not even giving off smoke. A pool of hot candlewax sat at the top. "Oh, I met with the Lord Priest this morning," I said. "He told me to bring you this." I presented the leaf.
She took it, studied it, then placed it on the candle. It caught the flame, and she set it on a metal plate to let it burn. "Level 5 in less than a day. That's impressive."
"Thanks."
"But you have much to learn." She stared at the burning leaf as she spoke, the fires dancing in her eyes. "What color is your flame?"
"Uh, red?"
"Just red? No yellows, no blues or whites?"
"No, just red. Maybe a hint of yellow? The same color as the leaf right now. Just regular fire colored."
"And you are aware that the colors can change?"
I gave it some thought. I remembered reading before that fires would behave differently given the circumstances. A fire in zero-g would be circular. An efficient fuel source would make it white or blue. "I've heard of that, but how does that work with magic?"
"You are the fuel. Your essence, your soul, your stamina and energy. You are the spark that brings it life and the means for it to live."
"Wouldn't the fire just burn me to a crisp?"
She smiled. "Yes. And that is where discipline comes in. This is why we can't have novice mages learning spells that use white or blue flames. Without knowing how to control the fire, the fuel, or yourself, you would melt your face off."
"Speaking of, did you kill me yesterday?"
"I'm sorry, what?" She tilted her head in confusion.
"I woke up in the—"
"Oh! No, of course not!" She laughed. "I put you to sleep. Both to pacify you and to test you."
"Test me?"
"Sleep spells do not work on players effectively. Their souls in the other world maintain themselves, and for some reason, their bodies here will often vanish after. That's how I knew you were one of us."
I wanted to snap at her, to vent out my frustration, but I knew to be patient with her as she was with me. Whether she was wrong or not, I needed her to teach me magic. "Well, thanks for not melting my face, I guess."
She burst into laughter. "Oh, you are quickly becoming one of my favorites. My humble, cute acolyte."
I felt my face flush, and I looked away. I needed to redirect the conversation. "So how do I learn new skills?"
"Experimentation, usually." The leaf finished burning, and she used a small rod to shift around the ashes. "The possibilities are almost endless. Fireballs, streams of flame, combustion, waves of heat. This all comes with the base fire spell, and you won't always need a scroll to learn something new."
"Almost endless?" I asked.
"Within the law, of course."
The law sounded like a pain in the ass. If I wanted to create a volcano, I should be able to create a volcano. I considered maybe I would need a volcano license. "So I won't need to find a trainer to learn better fire spells?"
"You will. Continue to train, and search within yourself for the answers. You will find your flames become paler and more intense. When that happens, I will teach you Flare."
I felt a twinge of excitement and impatience. "Do I get to learn anything now? I'm level 5 now, right?"
"Yes, you are certified. Once I finish my work here, I'll put in the paperwork. For now, I'll go ahead and get you a few scrolls to get started. She got up from her seat and walked over to a shelf, on it a stack of papers and bound scrolls. She dug around for a few pieces and brought them back to the table. "I'm out of Earth, but I have Wind and Water."
"Earth?"
"Basically you throw rocks at people. It's a shame I'm out of them, you seem to be good at that," she giggled.
I smiled. "I'll make do with this. Thanks." I took the first scroll and looked at it. It was incredibly small, perhaps it shouldn't even be called a scroll - more like a strip of parchment. The paper was velvety to the touch, and it smelled like an old book.
"Why are you sniffing them?" She burst into laughter. "Just put your hand over the top!"
"Sorry!" I stole one more glance at the writing. Like the leaf, it held a single word:
water().
I rested my hand on it, and it flashed into dust. The other scroll, wind(), did the same thing. Within me, something clicked, and without even trying, I knew how to conjure a gust or squeeze a cup of water from my fist. "Thank you, priestess."
"My pleasure," she smiled.
"Do other magic spells exist? Stuff that isn't the usual elements?"
"They do," she said. "But with those, due care must be taken. I urge you to focus on these for the time being, and when you're a higher level, you may have the opportunity for further growth."
"I see," I said, somewhat disappointed.
"Do you have any questions?"
"I do, actually. What’s up with the bearded guy in that picture?”
She followed my glance over to the painting – an old portrait of what looked like a homeless person – and when she realized, she broke into laughter. “That’s Ashma-Cel!”
“Ashy what?”
“Ashma-Cel,” she repeated. “That is the father of all magic, the one who brought it to the people those hundreds of years ago.”
“So is he like a god or something?”
“He’s a wizard,” she said plainly.
“Neat,” I said, already bored. “What else can you tell me about this world?"
"This world? You mean our world. When you talk like that you sound like a player."
"And the players? Isn't it just... I dunno, weird?"
"Yes," she said. "Very." She looked out the window in thought. "The era of peace has ended, and the gate is open again. The 'new season,' as they call it, has just started."
"I don't understand."
She looked back at me, into me. "The players first arrived a little over twenty years ago. From their world, their reality, their dimension. I was just a teenager at the time. When they came, so much changed so quickly."
"Do you hate them?"
"Of course not!" she chuckled. "They're great for the economy, and they bring new ideas and tales along with them. Even certain nations like to use them for warfare since it is apparent they don't fear death. When I have work that needs to be done, I'll send them on a quest to take care of some errands. Since they seem to only be here for about six months, we try to squeeze their worth the best we can."
It didn't make sense to me. A twenty-year gap with no players? No game lasts that long without ever needing a technological overhaul. Whatever the case, she seemed to like them. "So they're good then."
"Not always, my dear acolyte. Like any group of people, some are bad, and some are good. The worst part about them is that they have no sense of consequence."
Chapter 5
The First Quest
I was sitting on a bench at the pier when the ribbon in my hair vibrated. I set down my sandwich, pulled it out, and looked it over. Words were fading in as if some invisible force were driving its pen into it.
Smith: Hey, grats everyone, we got the guild up and running.
Trell: Thank you.
Simone: The White Lions are open for business!
Relce: Okay bruh, let's do some questing.
Smith: Anyone found anything yet?
Trell: The butcher has a quest.
I was fascinated by the lines of text that would fade in while the past ones would fade away. It was a stream of communication, and it was getting hard to keep up. How would I join the conversation?
Smith: Go on.
Trell: We kill wild boars.
Simone: Ew. How many?
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Trell: However many you want. He's a butcher.
Smith: What's the reward?
Trell: We get 350g per head, but you guys will get half that in gold and double that in XP.
Smith: That sounds kinda crappy.
Simone: No, that's good money, and it sounds easy.
Relce: Dude, that's two levels.
Smith: Alright. Let's do it. Alex, you coming?
I panicked. How do I reply? Do I write something? I need a pen! The only person nearby was a guy fishing. "Sir, do you have a pen I can borrow?"
"Sure," he said. He swiped open a menu, tapped an icon, and waved it away. The pen fell into his hand. "Just keep it, I have more."
"Th-thanks," I said. I thought he was a nipsy like I was. No, I'm a bugged-out player. Right? I shook off the thought and wrote in my reply.
Alex: Yeah! I'll meet you there.
Smith: Sweet. Simone and I will be there in about 10.
So now I would have my first quest. The game was looking great, and once I was done breaking myself into this new world, then I could debug my situation. And besides, even at 99% sensory load, the body would pull me out of the game when I fall asleep. There was nothing to worry about. Right?
***
After getting lost, asking for directions, and getting lost again, I finally found the butcher's shop - ten minutes late. The shop was on the edge of town, just a walk into the forest. Posted on its wall was a large board packed with bulletins of wanted posters and odd jobs. A group of people was studying it, perusing the options. Simone and Smith were waiting beside it.
"Sorry!" I said. I was still panting from the run over.
"Hey, she made it!" Simone said.
"Is that your gear?" Smith asked.
I looked myself over. I was still dressed in my casual street wear. Should I have bought robes? Would they even help? "I guess so," I said.
"So trendy," a guy said.
I looked over at him and saw the most obvious player avatar I've seen in this world. A stunning pink afro, aviator sunglasses, a mustache that dangled off his face, and a lashing eyebrow that struck at the end of every sentence. "What's up," he said. "The name's Relce." He wore a long brown duster and cowboy pants.