NPC ReEvolution

by Rae Nantes

  "You gave a good speech," Yun said. "Really felt the uh, goosebumps or whatever." He gestured to me with his cup and smiled.

  "Thanks."

  "I'm going to miss going out there in my beard," Willow said. "I really enjoyed roleplaying as a foreigner."

  "Nothing's stopping you," I said. I stared into my cup in thought. The elections would happen within the month, after the counties and voting districts would be made, after the representatives of each to be elected, then I may or may not be reelected. It was a long shot, and I started to worry. This was my town, all of it built from scratch. I should've just started it as a monarchy or a dictatorship. Hell, nothing was stopping me from just taking over the government like that, but I knew it wouldn't be right. I already started working on a plan for the Seekers to infiltrate the entire thing to create a shadow government, just in case.

  "So now what?" Yun asked. "Those refugees get here in about a week. A few thousand of them, so I'll be busy gettin' the all houses built."

  "Okay," I said. I looked over at Willow. "How are the spies?"

  "Doing well," she said. "We're digging into foreign intrigue, some of them gathering their own informants in various places, specifically Vellen. We're also gathering a list of throne claimants as you suggested, but I don't know what we would do with that info."

  "I'll find a use somehow," I said.

  ***

  During the week, I took the time to restart my magic training. With my body back in shape and my mana at higher-than-normal levels, I set off to find my limits and learn more about my skills. This meant returning to my favorite mountaintop getaway for the quiet and the scenery.

  The first thing I needed to find out, was how my mana limit could be increased. It was evident to me that the act of overdrawing was enough to raise my cap but doing that too often would've not been viable. Instead, I first tried casting a few fires to see if it made any changes.

  Nothing. A moderate strength fire spell cost about 0.9 mana, so either there was no change, or the difference was so incredibly small that it just got rounded down somewhere in the code. I was discouraged, but how did my mana cap get raised? Before the raid, I was sitting at about 51, but now I was here at 59.41.

  I gave it some thought. If mana acted similar to the way stamina and strength did, then certainly I'd be able to train it using similar techniques. I used the debug spell to pull the variables that handled my mana regeneration rate - 1.34. Then I cast a weak wind spell about thirty times in a row at a total cost of about 27 mana. After letting my mana refill, I checked again - 1.38. Success!

  If that was the case, then surely I could increase my total cap by routinely going over the limit within reasonable amounts. Similar to how bodybuilders lift heavier and heavier weights to build strength and more repetitions to build endurance. With this in mind, I started a training plan that I could use throughout the days. I would cast weak spells over and over and over until I was almost dry, then rest, then cast a real big juicy one to put me over the limit.

  This, of course, brought me to my next item on my to-do list: invent more spells. The recent battle taught me a few new things - javelin, barrage, and area of effect mechanics. My mind raced over the different possibilities, and I wanted to try them out.

  I studied the barrage skill closely. Without an argument, it only created regular arrows that shot out to the target, with more arrows with more mana used. However, by learning the functions that brought out multiple copies of the same arrow object, I was able to replicate that part of the spell into the javelin spell - basically making mega arrows. All it needed was a nested function.

  "Barrage(javelin(ice))," I whispered. Even at low strength, four frosted white javelins snapped into existence and hurled down the mountainside, landing and toppling against the rough terrain. Fascinating. For shits and giggles, I tried reversing the spell. "Javelin(barrage)." The only thing that spawned was a solitary, massive arrow. It almost looked cartoon-like in its size.

  This all taught me a lot about the difference between elemental arguments and functional arguments. Many of the spells could be passed into other spells as functional arguments, but elemental arguments stayed mostly the same. Neat.

  Something snapped behind me. It was boot-hat man stepping out of a portal. He was wearing house robes as if he just got out of bed, but he still had on his folded-over, boot-shaped hat. Does he sleep with that thing on?

  "Hey," he said as he wiped his eyes.

  "Morning."

  "The spies told me to tell you," he said, "that our bounties were revoked."

  "That's good to hear." I looked away in thought. It made no sense as to why they would lift the bounty.

  "Uh, also," he continued, "Vellen is scheduling a lot of their player forces for a drill or something for tomorrow. Not sure why it's important, but they woke me up to rush you the info or whatever."

  "Thanks. Hey, mind if I come back with you? It'll save me the trip."

  "No prob, buddy." We walked back through the portal, and I found myself in his living room. The entire place was packed with all sorts of little mechanical knick knacks - clocks ticking everywhere with different times on the faces, music boxes, scrolls carelessly tossed around, half-eaten leftovers on the table, and mountains upon mountains of some strange leafy plants that he presumably smoked in his spare time. It was no wonder he chose to live by himself.

  "Uh, thanks," I said. "I'm off, then!"

  "Oh, wait a sec." He went to his pile of scrolls, sifted around the mess before finding a slip of paper, tossing it aside, finding another, then handing it to me - explosion().

  "Yaaaas!" I yelled out. My eyes were wild with fire, and I could feel the flame inside me ignite with excitement.

  "Yeah, be careful with that—"

  I already flashed it in my mind. It became me, and I became the explosion.

  "Well, uh, anyway," he said. "I wanted to teach you another argument. Try element when you get a chance. We don't use it much, but you're clever enough you might can do something neat."

  "Thanks!" I ran out the door, too excited to return back to the mountain to blast chunks off it, but I was already home, and the day was winding to a close. Besides, I wanted to think about something, to think about the intel that they deemed important enough to get boot-hat man out of bed.

  Of course. I froze on my porch, my hand rested on the door handle. They dropped our bounties, not because they gave up, but because it would no longer be necessary. They're not scheduling a drill for their player regiments, they're making sure the players are online for an operation.

  To invade us.

  Chapter 35

  The Vellen War of Aggression

  There was silence. The ocean wind pulled my hair, my cloak, my uniform. The waves crashed against the shore. At our spot along the hills, all eyes were on the sea and the network of islands. No words were spoken among the thousand militiamen nor the few parties of Seekers. Only the sounds of the shore and our banners flapping against the breeze. Footsteps tapped in the grass beside me. It was Willow.

  She followed my gaze to the sea, not speaking due to not needing to, or perhaps it was the silent treatment. We had argued all morning about my role in this battle, this war. She demanded that I hide from the fighting, but I demanded I lead my country. This was me taking responsibility. If I was the fake governor of the now-real republic that has to fight a real war, then so be it.

  So I stood at the crest of the hill, hands rested on my staff as a commander would. I even had the uniform - charcoal grey, rustic red, black cloak, hair pulled back under an officer's cap. It was one thing to look authoritative, but it was another to just feel cool. On my flanks stood the militia riflemen and their support, and lines of cannons all aimed at the nearest landing zone - the empty shore. The port city itself was reinforced with makeshift walls and would be even further with a dedicated mage party to aid in its defense. But the ships and its cannons and its crew was not our biggest concern. It was the landing f
orce.

  Beyond the furthest island, just above the tree line, I spotted it. Glistening white sails that slid across and into view, revealing the bulging black body of a warship. One slipped into view, then two, four, twelve. More than three dozen ships now turned at the bend and were headed for us. Gunports open with cannons at the ready. Flapping flags of grey and black. Their bows and sides were covered in metal, tacked on for reinforced armor, but it wouldn't matter. The true danger dwelled within the bellies of those beasts - regiments of players, roughly two thousand in total.

  I groaned at the sight.

  Our intel told us that Vellen had reformed its military favoring player-run regiments. After their victories in the north and the Nisian campaigns, they had realized that the players could fight off nipsy armies ten times their size, and so they cut their military recruitment of nipsies. It made sense, after all, to have an army that enjoyed fighting for the sake of it and didn't care to die. This was the worst enemy we could possibly face.

  We had only a day to organize our response. A day to finish arming the militia and flesh out our defenses. There wasn’t much we could do when threatened with an invasion force that was almost larger than our own population. We were weaker, half their number, with old equipment, less morale, and everything to lose. This wasn’t good, and even my Seeker comrades were pressuring me to devise an escape plan.

  But I refused to run away.

  I turned to boot-hat man beside me. He was looking elsewhere, tapping his finger over each distant cannon to keep count. "Do it," I said. He turned back with raised eyebrows, not hearing what I said but the sight of the incoming ships told him what I meant.

  "Sure thing, buddy."

  After a chorus of ripping, tearing, snapping of some hundred small portals, I gave the order. "Open fire!" Rattling, roaring cannon fire that flashed around us and shook the air and exploded downwards over the enemy ships - from the exit portals right above. Smoke and cannon shot streamed down on top of the decks, blasting into chunks of wood and dust, splashing into the water where some missed and rocking the ships where they didn't.

  They weren't called warships for no reason. Most shrugged off the pain except two - one to catch fire to peel off and run aground, the other to erupt with an explosion. The shockwave caught the air and the trees and the water and it hit us moments after the flash. Water and debris rained far.

  A few of the ships turned to show us a broadside. Rolling flashes, a series of thumps, and puffs of smoke. Cannonballs slammed across the ground, burying into the hills and skipping off the sand. One landed at the top of a nearby hill, ripping and shredding the earth before clipping a mage's mana shield. The healers were already on the wounded, but a cannon was lost.

  "Open fire!" The blasts shook me, shook us all, and the return fire was just as ferocious. The war had just begun.

  Riflemen were already taking shots at the approaching ships, peeking out of cover only when necessary. Our cannons were now firing whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the city was now under siege. The ships that were once aiming at us were now throwing volleys into the town but to no avail. Each time, stopped by the reinforced wall or a mage's spell. Our cannon emplacements returned fire, missing shots while they adjusted their aim. It brought me relief that our counters were effective, but I knew it wouldn't last long - our mages only had so much mana to give.

  I peeked back over the hill to see the ships making landfall, stopping as close as they could for the players to hurry the distance - some used small boats, others swam. They were like ants rushing the shore, puffs of dust or sprays of water where bullets would strike, and sparks against armor and shields. Our cannons no longer aimed at the transport ships - as they were ordered - and instead shot volleys into the players as they struggled to reach dry ground. The gunsmoke was getting thick, choking and almost blinding us.

  I stood watching with baited breath. Some players would die, hit by a stray bullet or cannonball, only to be revived back the next second. When the players hit the sand, they formed into their parties and took defensive positions behind magic shields and paladin spells. Then they returned fire.

  Spells, bullets, arrows slammed into our defensive positions - yet at this range only guns were effective. Most spells weren't accurate this far, and the ones that were, we had. Our mages cast magic through portals above the players' heads, streams of arrows and explosions and choking poisons - yet the matrix of healers was too strong. Groups of them pulsed with a shimmer by protective magic and healing, and now some of the enemy parties began to march outward, the knights in front to draw the fire.

  We would run out of ammo at this rate, and not even a dent in their forces was seen. I knew I could just have boot-hat man vent the entire army into space, but I needed his mana to be ready. "Hey buddy," he yelled over the gunfire. "They have him. We're ready."

  "Go," I ordered.

  With that, boot-hat man stepped through a portal into some distant house. If there were any way to win the war, it would be by the duty I had charged him with. Until then, we just needed to keep the players busy.

  The enemy parties were taking slow steps toward us, sparks streaming off their shields and armor, bullets thumping into magic walls, and spells dissipating against counters. A rattling thunder from the sea found us. A whistling barrage of cannonballs slammed into our hills and defenses, erupting the dirt and sand and our morale. A lull in our attack gave them an opening, and now we were on the defensive. It felt like ten thousand cannons aimed at us, ten thousand more rifles honed on our positions, and we couldn't move - not even to peek out or fire.

  I yelled at the closest Seeker with a radio. “Did they finish yet?”

  She yelled into her radio over the noise and clasped the headset close. She shook her head. “No ma’am. They need a few more minutes.”

  We didn’t have a few more minutes. “Tell them to hurry!”

  "Alex, above!" Willow yelled.

  I followed her stare to the sky and bore witness to the largest airship I've ever seen. Gunmetal grey, ten times the length of an ordinary ship, ten times the size. It did not even carry a blimp-like balloon on its top, but instead held an array of propellers and fins that thrust it against the wind. It roared above us, and we caught the shadow as it passed. I lost hope against it. There would be no saving the city against such a behemoth.

  A warcry. The players were upon us, breaking out of formation to sprint up the hills and into us. Rolling thunder, flashes, dread. The massive airship unloaded a full broadside from its hundreds of cannons, and the weight and power of its fury slammed down on us, yet we were unscathed. Against the rumbling and tossing wind, the rounds dug among the player parties, shredding bone and metal and spraying up dirt and blood. The airship circled ahead, blue and white flags rolling in the wind, deck guns firing into the fray, but these weren't rifles. They were machine guns!

  Dull thumping, tapping, sparking that ripped across the battlefield as the guns trailed through our enemies in winding paths and zigzags. They were like old Gatling guns, rotary spun and slower firing, but the automatic rounds were a technological marvel in this world. Soon, I thought, that magic would become obsolete when even lowbies could operate such a thing.

  I had no idea who these interlopers were, yet they seemed to be the enemy of my enemy. "Ignore the airship!" I ordered. "Kill the players!" We retook our firing positions on the hills and poured fire into them, but now they were within spell range. "Explosion!" I commanded. A fiery stream flung across the field and between the legs of a stumbling knight, before exploding into fire and ash. Limbs fell into the sand.

  Willow kept a network of magic shields around us, swatting away any would-be attack against our parties. Stray bullets plinked off her earthen walls before she found an opening and turned a far healer into ash. The players scrambled to reorganize themselves, but failed, panicked, and fled into a general retreat.

  An orchestra of hooves on the far side. Were they enemy reinforcements? Caval
ry emerged full sprint around the far dune, blue and white flags on their backs - not of Vellen. They too were players, hundreds of mounted lancers armed with spears and rifles, a lone knight leading the charge - and they were charging into our enemy.

  If there were ever a moment to deliver the final blow, it would be now. I stood proud atop the hill, thrust out my staff, and gave the command. "Drive them into the sea! Charge!" The warcry of my comrades, my countrymen, my friends hardened my resolve and pulled the adrenaline from my soul as we sprinted down the hill. Flag bearers, riflemen, casters, knights. Our shouts reflected our determination and echoed across the scarred battlefield and into the hearts of our enemies. I took my party of seekers on the right flank with Willow's party, and we met the players on the shore just as the cavalry crashed into the other side.

  A group of tryhard players formed against us, but our spells were already decimating them. The ranks were slipping into ash and disease and melting skin. "Explosion!" My spell slammed into an ice shield, shattering it into powder and flakes, but the party was unharmed.

  "Lightning!" the mage countered.

  "Wall(earth)!" The spell grounded itself against my shield.

  "Silence!" Willow ordered.

  "Insight."

  The mage thrust his staff at me, his lips moving, but the words unspoken. His eyes were filled with panic and my own filled with madness. I had just learned a new spell. "Broil(silence)!"

  A wave of dead heat sprayed out from my staff and deep into the ranks of our enemy, halting the air and ridding it of vibrations and sound. By using the attributes of the silence spell within broil, I mixed the two with both effects. A thousand players before me choked and gagged and panicked and struggled against the melting heat and they screamed in silence, for there was nothing to carry their voice.

  "Broil(explosion)!" This might have been a mistake.

  As if in slow motion, my staff blossomed into splinters, explosions traveling outwards, knocking us back with deafening roars with even more explosions and countless more as the spell traveled the length of the shore, spreading out like gasoline vapors and scattering like cluster bombs. I fell into the rough sand, protected by a glassy blue shield that cracked and shattered against the onslaught. When the explosions ceased, my ears were ringing, and I was limp with fatigue. I sat up to see the shore charred black and scarlet, smoking, littered with the dead and dying, the cavalry scattered atop their panicking horses and those with discipline looked in our direction with fear and awe.