by Oliver Mayes
Hammertime finished off the last of the players. He left them where they lay, slung his hammer over his back and ran past Lillian.
“You can thank me later.”
How kind of him, to expect gratitude for saving one of her most hated players of all time. Lillian kept her hand to her ear.
“Hammertime has done his best to fix his mistake, but party members are still in jeopardy. If Aetherius or I don’t make it, he is solely responsible.”
Andrew had Blinked and was running as fast as he could, which was not very fast. It was only when he Blinked for the second time that he arrived at Lillian’s feet, short of breath and on his knees.
How had she wound up putting herself in this position? For goodness’ sake.
She activated Divine Might, picked him up in both arms and ran him back, his weight barely slowing her down. They’d not yet reached the pathway when the Divine Might faded and she slowed. She was out of mana. The sun was nearly completely descended. They had less than a minute. No sooner had the Divine Might faded when Andrew raised a mana potion to her lips.
“Drink.”
She hated it, but he was right. She took the first gulp and reactivated Divine Might as she opened her throat to let the rest of the liquid pour down. Her speed once again increased as Andrew’s burden became less. She was literally carrying him. Talk about a blast from the past. God, how she hated her life.
She turned onto the path of light as it started to wane, the rest of the group far out of sight through the fog ahead of her. Andrew provided intel on the sun’s movements as Lillian focused on her feet. He was trying to be helpful, although Lillian was all too aware what the sun was doing.
“We’ve got maybe fifteen seconds.”
The glow of the pathway was dimming. They were already completely enveloped by mist but the light somehow persisted, if only barely. Lillian ran forward, only able to see a few feet ahead. The pathway ended at nothing. She’d not come all this way not to give it her all. She planted both feet onto the end of the pathway and jumped forward as it faded completely. The two of them crashed into the water and were pulled down into the depths.
14
The Dark Tower
Damien fled through the portal, and Archimonde did not follow. He span round to confirm he was safe. The portal was gone. The dungeon was instanced, just as he’d calculated. As if in confirmation, the words he’d been hoping for appeared in the center of his vision.
The Dark Tower
He checked his surroundings and found no immediate danger there either: just a long, empty corridor leading to a doorway. Damien lay down on the ground, spreadeagled, and pumped his fists into the air. He’d done it! As he let his success wash over him, he noticed the notifications in his HUD. He was up to level 44! He also had a quest notification:
‘There’s Always a Bigger Fish – Find Bartholomew’s master. Part 2 – Pursue your chosen path and clear the first trial.’
The first portion of the quest alone had given him enough EXP to take him through nearly an entire level! He was in that sweet spot: the EXP from the quests was increased due to his low level, yet the quests were still achievable. Then again, entering the dungeon in the first place was probably the easiest part. Getting there had taken all day. He’d have to pull his finger out.
First things first, he needed to resummon Noigel. Not only for the utility, but to give his minion some much deserved praise. The plan had turned out well, and his second-in-command had played a crucial role in bringing it about. He finished the summoning and beckoned Noigel closer.
“Noigel, you outdid yourself today. As soon as it’s convenient, you’ll get all the succubi you can handle.”
Noigel began to cheer, only for Damien to clap his hand over his minion’s mouth. The summoning had gone without a hitch, but he didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself until he had a better understanding of this place. Which was when Damien realized he was still livestreaming. He’d promised Noigel his own private harem in front of 20,000 people. Oh dear.
“Well, looks like we made it.” He took in his surroundings a little more slowly, allowing everyone watching on the livestream time to take it in. Not that there was much to take in. “Sorry about earlier. Archimonde was blocking my way, I had to make it leave. This is where Bartholomew told me to go to progress. I guess Archimonde doesn’t much like the idea of having competition, so it was fortifying the entrance. I’m assuming you’re still watching, Archimonde. Thank you for your time, and your cooperation.”
He could see why Lillian enjoyed that turn of phrase. It was as satisfying to deliver it as it had been belittling to receive. More satisfying than punching Archimonde in the face, by far. It would’ve been even more satisfying if he wasn’t murmuring it under his breath. His adrenaline was still running and it was hard to keep his voice low, but needs must.
At least he wasn’t having problems livestreaming, for once. He’d always found it easier to record privately first and upload with commentary later. Knowing his every action was being watched and his every word heard, with no opportunity to edit out mistakes, had always made him less sure of himself. Now it felt more as if he were talking to himself, giving his inner thoughts voice for his own benefit. He’d do whatever he saw fit, the people tuning in were just along for the ride. If they didn’t like it, there were plenty of other channels they could watch.
“I have no idea what this place is, what the layout looks like, what kinds of enemies there are, whether there are any enemies in here at all, or even – and this is pretty crucial – whether Archimonde can follow me in and kill me. Let’s find out together.”
The corridor was as preposterously long as the one that had led Damien there, but when it finally came to an end it was not back at the doorway by which they’d entered. There was a chamber with three portals set into alcoves, each with a different glowing silhouette etched into a stone plaque above it. The silhouettes showed three different occultists, all clad in varying armor and wielding different weapons.
From left to right, the etchings were blue, purple and red. They were characterized by fiercely glowing dots, as if each were a constellation of stars, with the fainter swirls of galaxies filling in the details. The first, in blue, bore a weighted scepter in one hand and a Sacrificial Dagger in the other. The figure was pointing the scepter and a Chaotic Bolt was perpetually forming at the tip. The robes it wore were the most familiar of the three, a little longer and more flowing than Damien’s own tailored fit but undeniably more ornate.
The second, in purple, almost looked as though it were another class. The hood and cloak were still present, but it wore leather armor rather than robes. The weapon was bizarre, two weighted barbed spikes on each end of a long chain. It was in the process of being flung, the chain arcing back and forth as the rest of the image remained suspended. Where the last figure had been static, this one was frozen mid-leap.
The third, in red, was furthest from the concept of any occultist Damien had ever imagined. It looked more like a paladin gone wrong. This figure was clad in spiked plate mail with a skull emblazoned on the chest. It was swinging an oversized two-handed scythe, trailing a red swirl that looked like a fountain of blood.
Damien spoke his thoughts aloud.
“We appear to have three choices here. First one looks to be for intelligence builds, which is what I’d expected from this. Y’ know, since all the occultist skills are based on either wisdom or intelligence. But it seems they’ve got options for occultists building around agility, like me, and even for strength! To each their own, I guess. Not sure how you’d build a strength occultist to be honest, but I’m sure that armor and scythe would help.”
He pondered it a little longer, privately. He supposed that if an occultist ran with wisdom first, as he had, they’d be free to change course later, maintaining their wisdom stat and selecting a new primary trait to go in a new direction. If the gear was as good as it looked, it would go a long way to making most b
uilds viable. He could choose any path he wished. This would be his last chance to decide how to build his character.
All three were tempting. The strength gear in particular looked all kinds of gnarly. He’d have a much easier time engaging in melee tactics wearing that armor and wielding that weapon. But his strategies had always relied on evasion, not taking hits. He’d been intent on building up his agility, even before it had seemed like a viable option. Now there was a path specifically for what he’d chosen, which most suited his playstyle, how could he refuse?
“I’ll be running with this middle path, with the chain weapon. Let’s see what this looks like.”
Noigel clung to his shoulder and they entered the portal together. He’d no sooner set foot in the chamber when the portal once again disappeared behind him and the message popped up indicating where they were:
The Dark Tower: Path of Deceit
How very edgy. They couldn’t have just called it the ‘Path of Agility’, could they? From here on there’d likely be trouble. Best to leave Noigel behind while he made sure the coast was clear. Damien crouched and headed inside. This chamber was much larger, with a solitary chest in the middle. Behind it there was a door, barred with iron slats horizontally and vertically. So there was something he had to do in here. Better start with the chest. He made his way to it while looking all around.
His night vision allowed him to see into every dark corner, but there were no signs of danger. The coast was clear. Sweet, free stuff! He flipped the latch, stood up straight and threw the lid open. From each topmost corner of the chamber echoed the tiniest, most insignificant plink. The four missiles struck him simultaneously, turning Damien into a pincushion. He had black spikes sticking out and through him: two through his chest and two through his shoulder blades.
Panicking, he looked up and found the source of the problem: the top four corners of the room were now adorned with health bars, hovering over four black spiny masses that were settled into the nooks. He wasn’t the only one in that room that could mask its presence. It was called a ‘Cave Urchin’. Level 50.
Plink.
Damien threw himself backward and the second round of spikes stuck into the floor and chest, barely missing him. The first round had taken him below half health. If he got hit again, he’d be dead. Nope. He turned back toward the chamber and sprinted.
Plink.
He’d thought his quick movement would result in his safety. It was a costly assumption. Apparently the Cave Urchins could aim predictively. The third round of spikes also struck him through. Damien watched in numb shock as his screen faded to black and his least favorite word combination of all time occupied his vision. It was even worse than usual, because apparently the Dark Tower had another unique feature: crushingly annoying death text additions.
You have been PERFORATED by ‘Cave Urchin’. Fatality. Your experience has been reset to the start of your current level and your body may be looted, at which point a random item of equipped gear will be forfeit.
Remember, it’s only a game!
Death cooldown – 23 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds.
Thank you for playing Saga Online.
His stream was still active. Everyone who’d watched him succeed in getting past Archimonde had now watched him fail. At the very first room. He was taking it all in silently for fifteen seconds, watching the streamer count fall and the timer tick ever so slowly down, before he managed to find words. When he did, he talked as if he were thinking aloud rather than to his rapidly dispersing viewers. He did modify his internal monologue for them slightly though, by removing all the expletives from it.
“That...that did not go well. It’s okay. I got past Archimonde. I’ll be able to respawn in here tomorrow and try again. What time is it...okay. I’ll be here again at eight fifteen sharp to give it another go, and I’ll send out another livestream. I’m very disappointed, but I won’t give up. See you all tomorrow.”
He logged out and opened his eyes, then started doing his damage report in earnest. All his souls were gone. All his experience toward level 45 was gone. His body would probably not be looted, so that was something. The stream had been short, but he’d accomplished his main goal that evening already by circumventing Archimonde, and had run his most viewed livestream since the days following his competition victory. The day was actually a success. He just hadn’t thought the Dark Tower would be so punishing.
He’d been so intent on getting past the first obstacle, he hadn’t ever considered whether he was ready to take on the challenge behind it. It was too late, now. If he bailed, he’d have to get past Archimonde all over again. A very unlikely prospect. He was locked in. He’d have to see this through to the end.
He suddenly felt an intense longing for the Bag of Holding he’d given up. There were any number of tricks he could’ve pulled with those resources at his disposal. It was a shame he couldn’t both do the right thing and put himself in the best position to deal with his own challenges. At least those resources were helping Lillian’s party instead. Damien hoped she was having an easier time than he was.
Lillian had never died by drowning before. She had no idea what Saga’s version of it was like and no intention of finding out. There wasn’t much she could do about it at that point, though. It was her intentions that had led her here, with Andrew along for the ride.
Right. There was something she could do. Lillian grabbed Andrew’s Bag of Holding, went into her menu and deposited the entirety of her gear into it. She’d just made herself about 100kg lighter. Game mechanics for the win. Except not in this case. Despite the decrease in weight, their descent through the water was not slowing. Andrew was wearing robes and she was wearing basically nothing, there was no way they should still be sinking.
She reactivated Divine Might and started kicking toward the surface. Their descent still did not slow. That settled it. They were going to die. Great. She’d never paid much attention to water mechanics in this game. She’d never spent any time there swimming. Saga Online had always been a fairly accurate depiction of reality, the insane creatures and thoroughly augmented players still adhering to the laws of physics. She’d never thought there would be such a lame automatic drowning feature. How anticlimactic.
The two of them broke the water’s surface and instinctively gasped for air, then looked down wide-eyed. They’d exited the lake not upward, but downward. The water was still all around them, but it was held back. They were in a giant bubble. Below them was a grassy plain, in front of a castle. That meant there was a castle at the bottom of the lake! They should’ve been plummeting at that point but were still descending at the same speed as they had within the water.
The two of them touched down lightly in the middle of a grassy knoll, surrounded by their allies. They were all looking at her, wide-eyed. Hammertime stifled a laugh. Oh. Lillian dumped Andrew on his feet, grabbed his bag again and reequipped her gear. Then she turned on the party, furious that her quick thinking had resulted in embarrassment, and even more furious that no one had thought to offer her an apology.
“You were all here long before us. I thought you were all already dead. If I’d known we were supposed to get dragged down, maybe I wouldn’t have tried to lighten myself in the water. Why did no one give us any warning?”
She knew as she said it. They’d been too preoccupied with drowning, then taking in their insane surroundings. That was on her. How Hammertime replied was on him.
“The rest of us managed to get down here without issue, and without resorting to taking our clothes off. If you wanted assistance, party leader, there was nothing preventing you from asking.”
Lillian’s filter was very much expired. She wouldn’t be getting a new one until she’d had a good night’s sleep. Given what Hammertime had just done, he’d have to make do without.
“So you can’t think for yourself? I have to tell you what to do? That’s funny; you were perfectly capable of thinking for yourself earlier, when you didn’t pass o
n my order to Trinytea.”
She turned to the rest of the group while Hammertime’s face was still souring.
“Well done, everyone. I’m glad we’re all here. I invited Godhammer to leave earlier, but since we’re all here, let’s take a vote. If you’re not satisfied with my leadership, don’t waste our time. You can try the quest separately, after our group has logged off. If you stay, I expect cooperation. And honesty. Raise your hand if you want to leave.”
Nobody looked comfortable. Nobody raised their hand. Not even Hammertime.
“Great. Let’s find out what the next step looks like.”
Lillian trudged off in the direction of the castle, her mood worse than ever. The constant need to keep Hammertime in check was depriving her, and the less subversive members of her party, of what little enjoyment this adventure might have had to offer. Their negotiation of the riddle should’ve been a time for congratulations, praise and a well-earned breather; especially since it had apparently come with a big chunk of EXP. A full one and a half levels, the very maximum that could be awarded for a single instance of experience gain.
They should’ve been celebrating. Now Lillian wanted to push for another victory instead, so they could distance themselves from the farcical nonsense Hammertime had inflicted on them.
She strode up to the castle gate, which was wide open. Then she laid eyes on the plinth next to it, the same kind as the one Hammertime had screenshotted and posted in the group chat earlier that day, and groaned. Another riddle. Please, no, she just wanted to fight something. Instead, she found herself stumbling through another passage. At least they’d significantly cut down on the rubbish Olde Englishe; the riddle itself was bad enough.