“The pool is all the same across the different types. Ms. Zerne and the designers thought that it would be too hard to manage player power if we did multiple fatigue pools. As for the bar,” the pretty blonde woman kind of shrugged, “Ms. Zerne wants the game to feel ultra real. She thinks a fatigue bar would just end up making players play their UI instead of actually playing the game. You’ll have a bigger ‘pool’ when you increase your attributes.”
“So it is kind of like leveling up then? The more attribute points I’ve spent, harder it will be for me to become fatigued?”
“Well, yes and no.” She laughed again. “You’ll probably begin using more expensive abilities as you raise your attributes. Starting a fire with a small spark you can do all day right now, but you’ll probably force your character unconscious if you try throwing fireballs around. Just depends on the ‘weight’ of the attributes the ability requires. Your progression through the game will enable you to use more abilities.”
“I guess that makes sense. Maybe I’ll appreciate it when I feel it myself. So having a weapon that resets the fatigue is a pretty big deal?”
“Yep! I didn’t pay close attention to the stats, but I imagine that you could sell it for a lot,” Jennifer smiled.
“Ha. I’d never sell it. Gratia gave it to me. Oh that reminds me, the UI didn’t even give me a gold value when I examined it.”
“You’ll find other weapons that you’ll love more. Believe me, there is some great loot out there. As for the UI displaying the value, it is going to do that with more common goods, like gems, or simple magical items that are easy to craft. Items that are blue coded or better won’t have a value because you’ll have to negotiate prices with a vendor.”
“Ahh. That makes sense. Yeah, I remember the dwarven armor I found didn’t have a price on it either.”
“Is there any other feedback you have?” the blonde woman asked shyly.
“Yeah. We are heading to Arnicoal. Should take us four or five days by wagon. If I logout in the wagon while it is moving, will I log back in on the wagon? Or will I be sitting naked in a field somewhere?”
“Oh no!” the woman said with a laugh. “You’ll log in back on top of whatever surface you log out on. We wanted players to be able to travel by ship, and it wouldn’t be good if players got back in the game and then drowned.”
“Ahh. That makes sense.”
“The issue with you logging back in without clothes should be fixed. Did you have your clothes on at the start of this session?”
“Weren’t you watching?” I asked.
“Watching?” she asked with some confusion.
“Yeah. When I log in. Didn’t you see me?”
“Ohh. Ummm. I-I-I. Umm.” The pretty woman’s face was bright red, and she kind of squirmed in her chair. “I try to look away when you first log in. I don’t want to invade your privacy.”
“Yeah, but it is just a game.” I smirked at the pretty woman.
“Yep, but your ahhh. Stuff is… ummm correctly sized. It’s you in the game. I just don’t want to invade your privacy.”
“Ha. Okay. Well I sleep naked, and that was how I logged out last time, so I don’t know if it worked.
“Oh,” she said. I didn’t think her cheeks could get any redder, but it even looked like her legs were flushing.
“But I logged out with my clothes on. So I’ll know for sure when I log back in.”
“Great! When do you want to start tomorrow?”
“How about seven?” I asked as I looked at the clock. It was eight thirty at night right now, and I had plenty of time to visit my parents, grab a bite with them, and maybe get in a quick workout before sleeping.
“We’ll be here. Right Ky?” Jennifer asked.
“You got it, Champ.” The man rubbed his hand over his shaved head, and then smiled at me. “I’m almost done calibrating this. Then we’ll be good for tomorrow.
“Alright. I’m gonna grab a shower and then have dinner with my parents.” I stood from the chair. “See you both tomorrow.”
I walked into my suite and made my way to my bathroom. The hot water came on with a flip of my fingers and I hung the thick robe up on the hook. The simple action made me shake my head a bit and sigh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done laundry, or cleaned up a room. Well, it was before I became champion. As soon as I became famous I was either at home with a maid, or in a hotel with a maid. Tomorrow, or maybe even tonight while I was eating with my parents, someone would come in my room, take away the robe, clean the bathroom, make sure my toiletries were filled, tidy up my room, and then ghost. I’d grown up poor, and the concept of people cleaning up after me all day long just seemed surreal, even after ten years of it.
The shower was quick, and I remembered to turn on the ventilation fan this time so that the mirror didn’t fog up. I was still hesitant to look at myself since I had seen the weird purple eyes a few days ago, but I knew that it was just the lack of sleep playing tricks on me. My eyes looked totally fine now, and I ran a comb through my hair before I headed into my room and put on my Arnacript branded pants and shirt. The clothes looked similar to hospital scrubs, but mine were a dark rust color, and made of comfortable cotton.
A knock sounded at my door a few seconds after I finished putting on my clothes, and I walked across the living room to open the door.
“Well, look at you. Mr. Fancy Corpman!” I laughed as I eyed Chip up and down. He was dressed in one of the guard uniforms, and he even had the hat on. “Did Zarra make you wear the hat?” I asked with a laugh.
“Hey man, if I’m going to do something, it is going to be one hundred percent. Can I come in?” he asked as he returned my smile.
“Anytime, but I was going to go have dinner with my parents.”
“Ahh. I won’t bother you then,” he said.
“No. It is fine. As long as you don’t mind them calling you Jax all night.”
“I’ve been called worse, by much shittier people.” The ex-SEAL shrugged, and we walked out into the hallway.
“I’m guessing that Zarra made you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” I asked after we’d taken a few steps from my suite.
“Ha. I think you know how she can do that. She’s matching the salary you gave me, plus an extra forty percent.”
“Damn. And Dinah has you paid for the next two years. You’ll be able to retire early.” I laughed again.
“She did ask that I stop all the payroll from you. She said it would be a conflict of interest.” He shrugged.
“Huh. Why?” I asked.
“Cause I’m working for Arnacript now, and I might have to make decisions on behalf of the company that aren’t in your best interest.”
“I can’t imagine how that would happen.”
“What if the building is on fire, and I had to choose between hauling your unconscious ass out of here, or saving the AI server?”
“You’d pick the AI now?” I asked with a laugh.
“Fuck no, but maybe Zarra thinks I would because she is paying me.” We both laughed for a few seconds.
“This is for the best. I’m not in charge of the security here, but I’m managing the wing of the complex you are in, and I get to go with you when you leave Arnacript,” Chip said with a satisfied nod.
“You didn’t see my contract. That trip to get my parents is the last time I’m setting foot out of this building for two years.”
“So my job is going to be really easy,” he laughed.
“Unless these assholes figure out how to break into Arnacript and try to kill me here.
“That’s not going to happen on my watch,” Chip said, and the look in his eyes reminded me that the man wasn’t just my friend, or my bodyguard, he was a trained killer, that had seen truckloads of shit in his life.
I was glad he was on my side.
Chapter 7
My alarm went off at five, and it ripped me out of my deep sleep like a pick axe through the skull. I sat up in my bed, fumbled a
round with the clock on my nightstand, and then let out a groan of annoyance. I almost considered setting the alarm forward another hour, and crawling back under the covers, but I hadn’t worked out in a good week. My body wasn’t feeling the ache of deteriorating muscles, but I knew that the feeling was right around the corner. I had set my alarm early so that I could get one workout in before diving into Ohlavar Quest.
I threw on my Arnacript branded gym shorts and shirt before I exited my suite. The gym was almost a hundred and twenty yards down the hallway, and then another forty or so around a corner. I’d only seen it in passing a few days ago, and I intended to make it my second home.
I popped open the door, but the lights were already on in the gym. There was just one other person in the well equipped room: Zarra.
The dark-haired beauty didn’t notice me come in because her back was to the door. It also looked like she had some purple colored earbuds on. She was swinging a large kettlebell between her legs. The weight looked like a cannonball with a handle on top, and the woman seemed to be handling the large chunk of cast iron easily.
For a few seconds I watched her swing her hips back, stick out her perfect, yoga pants wrapped ass, and then drive the weight forward with a deadlift-type snap. Then I realized I was probably looking all sorts of creepy, and I made my way around the open space she worked on so that she could see me.
I waited until she had finished her set of swings before I stepped into her field of vision, and the purple eyed woman smiled at me before she pulled the sound devices out of her ears.
“Why hello, Leo. I’m surprised you’re here,” she said.
“Why are you surprised?” I asked as I returned her smile. Her mocha colored skin was damp with her perspiration, and I tried to keep my eyes from her neck. I already found Zarra extremely attractive, but I also liked athletic women. Her tight lycra workout attire left little to my imagination, and I felt my pulse quicken.
“I’m here every morning, but I haven’t seen you. I thought you’d given up exercise to play my game.” She winked at me.
“So, you’ve been trying to see me in the morning? I’m flattered.” I said with a chuckle.
“Maybe I have, and maybe you should be. I was hoping to get some work out pointers from the champion.”
“Looks like you don’t need any help from me. What is the weight on that kettlebell?” I asked as I looked at the cannon ball sitting on the floor at her feet.
“Thirty two kilograms,” she said with a shrug.
“That’s a hell of a weight. Like seventy pounds?”
“Yep. I’ve been working with them for a few years. I can actually press this one over my head. Want to watch?” She winked at me.
“That’s pretty heavy for a woman. I’m impressed.”
“Women can’t lift heavy things? I guess I should ask you to hold my beer first,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “Watch and learn.”
Zarra stuck out her perfect ass again in a half squat, grabbed the handle of the cast iron ball with her left hand, swung the weight between her legs, then cleaned it to her chest with the kinetic movement of her hips. The woman paused for a moment, looked to the ceiling of the gym, and then pushed the kettlebell up with her left arm. The movement was fluid, and she did a few more reps before swing the ball down between her legs and setting it down.
“Damn. Nice job,” I congratulated her with a clap of my hands.
“Thank you. Thank you,” she said as she made a small curtsy movement.
“I don’t think there are many men in the world that can lift seventy pounds over their head with one arm.”
“I’m not interested in those men.” Zarra gave me a smoldering look, and I felt a shiver of desire cascade down my spine.
Maybe I should avoid the gym in the mornings?
“How did the talk with the FBI guy go?” I changed the subject, and moved over to the rack of dumbbells on the far wall.
“Ahhh. It went like shit.” She let out a short laugh. “But I don’t want you to worry about it.”
“Oh come on. We are partners in this. Can’t you tell me about it? These assholes are trying to kill me.”
“I know,” she sighed. “Let me do the other arm. Hold on.” She repeated her squat over the large kettlebell, cleaned it in her right arm, and then pressed it to the sky three times before swinging it back between her legs and sitting it down.
I had grabbed a pair of sixty pounders and was warming up with my own military presses. The woman shook her arms once she set the weight down, and then she wiped her brow with the towel sitting on the bench beside her.
“He thought that I may have kidnapped you, so I gave him the name of the FBI guy that had interviewed me about Sal’s death. This director said he already talked to him, so I had to give him Dinah’s number, but then he didn’t believe her either. Said he wanted to come inspect our facilities to make sure you were okay.”
“That sounds strange,” I grunted through my lifts.
“Perhaps, or not, I got the feeling he was a fan. May have been looking for an excuse to meet you. Fortunately, your press came out during our second hour of ‘interviewing’ and he realized I was telling the truth.”
“Ahhh. Part of me doesn’t even want to know what the news is like,” I said as I set down the weights and took a deep breath.
“The NYSE stopped exchange on Astafar Unlimited’s stock five minutes after the news went off. They probably should have done that yesterday, or the day before, but your retirement finally broke the camel’s back. They are just delaying the inevitable though. I bet they will stop exchange on it within five minutes of the market opening today. Then the next day. I’m predicting they will lose seventy percent of their value.”
“This should be exciting news for people. There will be a new champion crowned. Everyone should be looking forward to next year’s match. I know you thought their stock would tumble, but I would still think that folks would want to see new drama, not the same guy kicking everyone’s ass year after year.” I shook my head and then picked up the dumbbells again.
“Your modesty is kind of cute.” Zarra laughed and then walked over to the rack holding some pre-assembled Olympic lifting bars. She set her back against one of them, lifted the bar off of the slot, and then carried it over to the open floor. I guessed from the size of the plates on each end that it was a good two hundred and fifty pounds, and the beautiful woman didn’t seem to have a problem with the weight. “I’ve already told you my thoughts on the matter. The stock price so far is proving my hypothesis correct.”
“Yeah. I guess it just seems dumb. That is all.”
“What is?” she asked before she began a series of back squats.
“I wanted my fame, but I didn’t realize what that would mean for my private life. I’m not a god, just good at playing video games.”
Zarra was deep in focus as she did her squats. I counted five reps, and then she moved back to the rack to set the bar down.
“You wanted to be the best. People like you and I do. It is lonely at the top, though. I understand you better than you might think.” Zarra shrugged.
“Yeah. I guess you do.”
“The FBI director got off the phone with me as soon as the news broke, but then our lines almost went down under a tsunami of media, government, and investor calls. That was why I wasn’t there when you logged out last night.” She moved back to the bar and then began her squats again.
“Ahh. No worries. Did Jennifer update you?”
“Yes. It sounded like a good session. I did get mad at her for explaining magic fatigue to you. I wanted you to figure that out yourself.” Zarra smirked at me as she set her bar back on the rack.
“I’m glad she did!” I laughed. “Otherwise, I might have gotten knocked on my ass trying a new ability.”
“You know me; I’m trying to make this as real and intuitive to players as possible. I want them to feel this world, and not worry about stat points, mana pools, min-maxing,
or all that other stuff that makes it feel like a game.”
“Most gamers like that stuff though. They want to see the numbers behind everything. They are playing the games for an escape.”
“My theory is that they don’t know any better. Since the start of gaming some hundred years ago, the systems have all been presented the same way and evolved from common molds,” Zarra explained.
“There have been a bunch of ultra real games. They just never do that well,” I said with a shrug.
“Making a game ultra real isn’t enough. The game has to be ultra real first, then made a game.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Those games all sucked because they were games first, and the developers took away the controls and elements that made it easier to play. Astafar Unlimited couldn’t pull off real life because the technology wasn’t there. I don’t have that problem with my game. We wanted it to be real first, then we added the game elements afterward.”
“Ohlavar Quest does feel like a game though. It does feel ultra real, but I can see the game elements there. I’m hooked into playing, and I like the progress.” I shrugged and then watched her do another set of weighted squats with the bar on her back. The beautiful woman’s form was impeccable, and I knew that she didn’t need any technique from me. She must have been a natural-born lifter, or had countless hours of coaching. The weight didn’t even look as if it was straining her.
“It’s part of the design. At the core, I believe gamers want four things: They want to feel like the game world is better than the real world, they want to feel more powerful than they do in the real world, and they want to have a progression that is measured, and quicker than it is in the real world,” Zarra said after she had put the weight back on the rack and let out a sigh.
“What is the fourth?” I asked.
“They want fame. Or infamy. Or whatever they want to call it. Players want other players to appreciate what they have done in the game. That is part of the reason you are so popular. You came from humble beginnings, you are very charming, likeable, and seem genuine. Most of the world lives vicariously through you, but you also make it seem like they could get what you have.”
Lion's Quest: Dual Wield: A LitRPG Saga Page 7