by Cosimo Yap
Alan connected to the Weaver, which the Weaver accepted. Alan’s connection to the Weaver was but one of millions, maybe even billions.
I pledge myself to you, a loyal follower until I die, Alan sent. He tried to activate mental partitioning, but it was no use.
Starship-sized planets tore apart his brain, scanned it, and then put it all back together. It took a moment for Alan to realize that it had occurred in Cyberspace, not the Game. Less than a millisecond had passed—he was still sitting in the Haxlard shuttle.
I’ll pass, the Weaver sent.
Wait, you aren’t going to kill me, delete me from existence? Alan asked.
To what end? Why do you think I granted you abilities in the first place, if not to use them? Your actions have helped me discover enemies I didn’t know existed. I am only repaying my debt once more.
Alan breathed a sigh of relief. Can you convince Pharaoh to hand over his ship without a fight, then? I think he’ll listen to you.
People think they can wield chaos. Luck, chance, random happenstance. Each event is independent. And that makes it wonderful. That toss of the dice, the moment of anticipation before the last card is turned. I live for those points in time. I applaud your gamble, but I will neither aid you nor harm you. That is my final gift.
How about a quest, then? Alan asked.
A quest? Now? A rumble of laughter sounded in Alan’s head, echoing on and on for an eternity. I forget the boldness of true mortals. Perhaps I turned your service away too soon. Perhaps you will be mine in another life. A quest then, worthy of a god. Good luck, Traveler.
The Weaver ended the connection. It was still there, its signal broadcasting everywhere, but it was quieter in Alan’s mind. Like someone had turned the volume knob down halfway.
Two messages appeared, including a new quest:
The End to an Empire:
Assassinate the Emperor. Strike a blow that will bring the Empire to its knees.
Option (The Death of a God): Contact the Emperor. Destroy the Weaver and end the Haxlard Empire.
Penalty: ???
Reward: A path to greater power. Additional information on the Weaver’s class: God Machine.
Time Limit: Until the end of the Haxlard Crusade.
Threat Level: Beta
To unlock the quest to progress to the Machine Emperor class, the following requirements must be met:
1. Become a Major Player.
2. Install a rank-A Machine Lord implant.
3. Reach level 6000.
4. Unlock the following abilities: Machine Overlord, Machine Empath, Machine Commander, and Machine Champion.
5. Earn Trusted reputation with either the Administrators or the Revenants.
Alan took a few moments to reassess his options and think over the Weaver’s words. Every major quest seemed to have multiple solutions, but which choice was the correct one Alan didn’t know.
Lambda, I think it might be time for you to hide out in the other capsule a bit sooner than expected, Alan thought.
Why, what is your plan? Lambda asked.
I’m going to turn you into the Chief Administrator, but only a shallow copy, so that I can retrieve the items that were confiscated from me, Alan sent. If I succeed in killing the Emperor or the Weaver you can rejoin me, and if I end up getting banned then we can start a new account like we discussed.
This seems rather hasty; the reason we’re in this circumstance is you sprint when you should walk, Lambda sent. What’s the big rush?
Everyone else is undoubtedly racing ahead. I look at Eve, at Seeker, and can only see myself falling behind, Alan sent.
Yes, well if you compare yourself to the very best—
It’s not just that, Alan sent. There’s also Earth’s deadline. My entire race might die if I don’t become strong enough quickly. Do you realize how oppressive that idea is?
And like I’ve said before, it is not your burden to bear, Lambda sent.
You know what else? I can't allow myself to become complacent, Alan sent. I fall into this pattern with games, with life, devoting all my time and energy to trying to become good. But I'm just playing, passing time. Before I know it days, weeks, months have passed, I have thousands of hours logged and I'm not even that much better at the game. I have nothing to show for my effort. And I can't let this happen in the Game—I can’t just let time pass me by. I need to continue to break every limit, to push every barrier, to struggle towards victory. And the only way I can do that is with massive risks, deliberately throwing myself off the edges into the deep end, gambling that I’ll evolve before I drown.
It sounds like your mind is already made up, Lambda sent.
Yes, I suppose it is, Alan replied.
Okay then, I will transfer my main data core to the backup capsule, leaving behind a shadow copy of myself. It will pass a cursory scan, but anything deeper than that and the Chief Administrator will detect the duplicity, Lambda sent.
Got it, Alan said. Goodbye for now, and thanks for all your help. If there was anyone in this universe that I could call friend, it would be you.
I should be the one thanking you, you did rescue me from the hellhole that was the Academy, Lambda replied. See you on the other side.
The next moment Lambda disconnected from Alan’s mind, and then reconnected, but it wasn’t the same Lambda. It happened so fast that if Alan hadn’t been looking for it, he would have missed it. The transfer also occurred without Alan’s permission, which meant Lambda could have jumped ship anytime he wanted to, and was really staying with Alan because he wanted to help.
Alan stood up, and knocked on the door to the dropship cockpit.
“Pharaoh? A small change in plans, we need to stop at the main Administrative Center on Khersath first,” Alan said.
“What? We agreed—”
“I just interfaced with the Weaver and received a quest,” Alan said. “Would you ever doubt the Three?”
There was a pause. “No, blessed be the Three. Hang on, it may take us a moment to calculate a safe route. There are still many active combat zones, and while the Administrators are not directly opposed to us, we are not allies, either.”
***
They made it to the old Haxlard embassy safely—another coin flip in Alan’s favor. The building was now nothing more than a ruin. The Administrators were still keeping the airspace directly above the Administrative Center clear, shooting down anything that dared to enter it.
Alan took it in stride, disembarking from the dropship and running to the Administrative Center, advanced stealth active. Khersath was no longer a safe zone.
The plaza that had once teemed with life was empty. Administrative guards still patrolled, still lined the edges of the massive pyramid at the center of the market plaza, but it was no longer filled with life and activity. Instead everyone seemed on edge, weapons gripped tight, constantly scanning the surroundings.
Technically, players could hide out in the Administrative Center. It only cost 100 platinum marks a day, or you needed to pledge yourself to the Administrators. It was funny, how everything seemed to work out so much easier in the Game once you pledged yourself to a cause.
Still invisible, Alan connected to an Administrator.
Tell Chief Administrator 170 I have information worth the return of my items. I want to meet somewhere I can still maintain my Machine Lord implant. This is Alan.
Please reveal yourself, the Administrator sent.
Once the meeting is confirmed, Alan sent.
Chief Administrator 170 has agreed. You will be given 30 seconds once the meeting begins.
Alan deactivated his stealth. Surprised guards turned and trained their guns. One fired. The spectral abilities of Alan’s power armor absorbed the laser blast.
The guard was hauled off by a superior, who apologized to Alan.
Alan followed the Administrator into a familiar elevator. He rode it up and was let off in an empty room with a single capsule in the center of the room.
<
br /> Converting the 10 platinum marks into 1000 ability points, Alan upgraded the ability counterfeit from basic to advanced for 1100 points and then put the few remaining ability points into stats.
Counterfeit (Advanced):
You are able to manipulate large messages, quest text, and details that you share with other players, such as your username, level, race, and reputations. You are also able to hide multiple small items or one medium-size item from detection.
Note: Counterfeit (Advanced) will not stand up to the equivalent level of detection abilities and devices.
He reviewed his status.
Alan was now level 1561. His intelligence, agility, and perception were now above 500. Strength, willpower, and endurance were around 300. Charisma and Luck were about 200. It seemed he’d earned a number of status points passively, but had been ignoring the single digit updates.
The majority of Alan’s abilities had stagnated; he hadn’t had time to train while in a state of constant vigilance. He couldn’t afford to waste computational energy, either, when a fight could break out at any moment. The abilities that Alan used the most involved his railgun and power armor, but those abilities had been purchased. As a result, they didn’t grow.
Chief Administrator 170 entered the room on a hover board, mechanical appendages gripping the sides. “I told you to lie low. Explain to me why a monkey is throwing shit where it doesn’t belong.”
“I’ve never been very good at taking orders,” Alan said. “I have evidence that at least one of the Three is hacking the Game itself, granting players the ability to manipulate data.”
“An investigation will need to be launched. Those caught will be—”
“I know, and I don’t care,” Alan said. “I will give you evidence, direct from a player’s memory, on the condition that it is only used when the Haxlard Crusade is complete. Didn’t you say your experiment would be considered a success if I completed a beta-rank quest or higher? Well, I just got one that I think I can handle.”
“That’s a big if. There is no reasonable way within the Game’s rules you could succeed in a beta-rank quest so soon. It will hardly be in my best interest if it’s discovered that the reason you have succeeded is hacking the Game itself,” Chief Administrator 170 said. “No, the best course of action is to—”
“I hope you ensure that the information is not leaked,” Alan said, “because I am moving forward with or without your consent.”
The Chief Administrator stopped. He ran a hand behind his head, then poked and prodded a few scars on the flesh-half of his face. “Do you know why I wear these scars, these augments? I thought I was a hero, a champion of my people. But there are no heroes in the Game. Only sentient beings fighting for survival.
“I am special, my species is better than yours. Every player thinks my faction, my world, my family is the most important. These are traps players fall into again and again. You are not playing the game you think you are. I wonder what a peaceful balance would look like, instead of one brought about by the destruction of everything until only one group is left standing. And even if your people manage to evolve, to thrive in the millennia to come, a balance must be made. The scale tips both ways.”
“I know I’m no hero, but that doesn’t mean I never dreamed of becoming one,” Alan said quietly. “But if the choice is to fight monsters and in doing so become one, or to give up, I’ll choose to become a monster.”
Chief Administrator 170 stared into Alan’s eyes. “I can see when my advice is no longer wanted. Congratulations, Alan. You have become a true player of the Game.”
A message appeared:
Reputation with the Administrators has been reset to Neutral.
The Chief Administrator continued, “I cannot return your items for information I cannot open at this time and an accusation I may not be able to act on.”
“What about a different trade? I have an organic Predecessor sample.”
“No, I am not authorized to—”
“What about the return of the stolen AI, then, no questions asked,” Alan said.
Too risky, Lambda sent.
Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll still land among the stars. I always loved that saying, Alan replied.
It is highly inaccurate, Doppel sent.
That’s the whole point. It’s a long shot, but I’m taking it. The shot could end up lost in space—in fact, it probably won’t even reach escape velocity. But given the information I have, given the choices available, I’m still taking it, Alan sent.
The Chief Administrator paused, at a loss for words for the first time in a very long while. “That, that I can do. But you will forfeit all other rewards if you want no questions asked, no investigation into how you came to possess the AI. What is your play here, Alan?”
“I’m putting everything on the line this time, all or nothing.” Alan smiled. “Really makes my heart race, thinking about it. So do we have an agreement?”
“We do. Upload the AI onto the Administrator network.”
Goodbye, Lambda, Alan sent, I promise to follow through and retrieve you if I succeed or fail. Well, the real you, not this forgery.
See you on the other side, Lambda replied.
A message appeared:
Give up control of the AI Lambda? All data stored within the AI will be transferred over. Your capsule will regain 10% of its storage capacity.
Alan selected yes. Like Eve, Lambda disappeared from his Machine Lord implant. It was a much more peaceful transition. The banks of data drained quickly, and he lost the hypertranslation ability.
Chief Administrator 170 opened a screen, and then frowned. “Where’s the rest of him?”
“The rest of who?” Alan asked.
“Lambda. Almost all their data is missing. Translation requires a wide depth of knowledge,” the Chief Administrator said.
Alan placed a data cube on the capsule in front of him. “That wasn’t the deal. But if you can remove a warning, maybe prevent a player from getting banned… I might be able to fill a few more of these up with the data you want.”
“Player discipline is not within my purview. I can make no promises.”
Alan sighed. “Put in a good word for me if a case does ever come up. Keep the data cube, but promise not to access it until the Haxlard Crusade is over.”
“Very well,” the Chief Administrator said. He took the cube and exited the room, leaving behind three items: a soulsteel knife, a void crystal, and a bottle of Predecessor blood.
Alan took the items, then activated his newly upgraded Counterfeit (Advanced) ability to change all three. He looked over the soulsteel knife’s item details again:
Soulsteel Knife (Rank S):
A knife of soulsteel. Able to cut through virtually any material, this weapon should be handled with the utmost care. The item has been forcefully bound to the traveler Alan through blood. Only a powerful Predecessor is able to remove the bond.
Damage: Bypasses nearly all defenses. Whatever is cut is destroyed. Additional abilities.
Approx. Infinite Durability. Predecessor Blood, Strong Soulsteel Bond, Knife Fighting (Master), Enhanced Control (Advanced), Enhanced Movements (Advanced), Knife Mastery (Advanced) required.
Requires Predecessor blood essence to manifest, current supply: 100/100 units, 5 units consumed/min active. 1 unit/1.4 years regen.
Pure Predecessor Blood, Absolute Soulsteel Bond, Enhanced Control (Master), Enhanced Movements (Master), Knife Mastery (Master) recommended.
Alan made a slight detour before returning to the Haxlard shuttle, depositing a few items in one of the safehouses Lambda had set up—just in case he did end up getting banned, he also made sure any new account he made would be able to access the safehouse by setting up a one-time password.
***
Alan appeared out of thin air, inches from Pharaoh.
Pharaoh turned. “Where have you been? We have been waiting here for almost three hours.”
Alan acti
vated hypercognition, and attacked Pharaoh. Pharaoh leaned back in an attempt to dodge the blow, but Alan followed his movements. The soulsteel knife easily cut through the power armor and Pharaoh’s head dropped to the floor.
Two messages appeared:
x5 Bonus XP for slaying an enemy over 1000 levels higher than you!
x23 Level up!
The rest of the Haxlards on the shuttle were subsequently wiped out. The crimson blades made short work of them, and only required energy. The soulsteel knife required Predecessor blood essence to recharge, and Alan only had one vial of blood on him.
Alan scanned the aircraft, making sure no one else was aboard.
Humming to himself, Alan set the shuttle to auto-pilot itself back to the Titan. He had hacked the shuttle’s systems before he had revealed himself, making sure to gather the necessary security details to get him aboard the Titan.
Sitting back in the pilot’s chair Alan closed his eyes and took a short nap. Betrayal was exhausting.
***
Taking over the Titan was a straightforward process. Alan already knew the layout of the Titan—he had been a passenger twice before. The dropship, as Pharaoh’s personal aircraft, was allowed into the hangar bay.
Guards opened the doors, only to find the ship empty. Advanced stealth mode active, Alan crept by them and headed straight for the bridge, where the command center lay.
The two Haxlards in pitch-black armor with blood-red faceplates that guarded the central room proved helpless against a seriously overpowered weapon.
Alan opened up the hidden room where the Titan’s servers lay, and begin to hack into the systems. The reason for the lack of any organized defense or alarm was soon made clear. The ship had been left with a skeleton crew, the vast majority of Haxlards on Khersath slaying infidels. In addition, the ship’s AI was now unresponsive. It was unable to do anything with its owner, Pharaoh, dead.
With Lambda’s absence, grinding away at the shields in Cyberspace took much longer. While the hack took place, Alan stalked the Titan’s corridors, systematically slaughtering the crew.