Awaken Online

Side Quest: Happy

______________

Travis Bagwell

Copyright © 2021 by Travis Bagwell

All rights reserved.

______

To Karen, who somehow managed to smile even in the face of the inevitable.

You will be missed.

______

Contents

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Diagnosis

Chapter 2 - Fate

Chapter 3 - Gamble

Chapter 4 - Hard-Knock

Chapter 5 - Mortal

Chapter 6 - Wager

Chapter 7 - Cathartic

Chapter 8 - Inspired

Chapter 9 - Sing-Song

Chapter 10 - Relentless

Chapter 11 - Serendipity

Chapter 12 - Companion

Chapter 13 - Tutoring

Chapter 14 - Rematch

Chapter 15 - Fustercluck

Chapter 16 - Savage

Chapter 17 - Recuperating

Chapter 18 - Economics

Chapter 19 - Start-Up

Chapter 20 - Territorial

Chapter 21 - Efficient

Chapter 22 - Chaotic

Chapter 23 - Recruited

Chapter 24 - Spectating

Chapter 25 - Soul-Crushing

Chapter 26 - Diplomacy

Chapter 27 - Collective Bargaining

Chapter 28 - Revered

Chapter 29 - Routine

Chapter 30 - Ambush

Chapter 31 - Heist!

Chapter 32 - Immolation

Chapter 33 - Gamble

Chapter 34 - Aftermath

Chapter 35 - Recuperative

Chapter 36 - ROI

Chapter 37 - Employee Interviews

Chapter 38 - Onboarding

Chapter 39 - Corporate Warfare

Chapter 40 - Agenda

Chapter 41 - Teambuilding

Chapter 42 - Promotions

Chapter 43 - Opening Bid

Chapter 44 - Counteroffer

Chapter 45 - Hands-On

Chapter 46 - Walk in the Park

Chapter 47 - Vendetta

Chapter 48 - Circle Back

Chapter 49 - Liberated

Chapter 50 - Undying

Chapter 51 - Hostile Takeover

Chapter 52 - Graveyard Camping

Chapter 53 - Product Launch

Epilogue

Luck Proc: Bonus Epilogue

Foreword

Hey there!  We’re back… although, this time with a slightly different story.  Jason is up after this one, so don’t worry.  I just needed to lay the groundwork for the next installment.

Speaking of which, my apologies for the delay this time around.  This book took a bit longer than expected – both because it ended up being about twice as long as I originally intended (sorry, not sorry?)… and my wife got pretty ill this last summer and I had a family member pass away.  Needless to say, it’s been a rough few months.  But things seem to be on the up and up now (fingers crossed), so hopefully I’ll be able to knock out the next book at my usual pace.

In terms of background for this story, it starts near the beginning of our timeline and is standalone.  There are a number of references to several other books in the series.  So, if you’ve ready everything else, great!  If not, I doubt you’ll find yourself lost, you might just not appreciate some of the nuance.

The only other warning I might offer is that the language in this one is a little more expletive laden – in large part because it fit the characters and context of the story.  Nothing super over the top.  F-bombs and such.  But I thought I’d give some fair warning for people with younger children.

With that all out of the way, enjoy!  This one is a ride…

Are you afraid to die? – The Gambler

Prologue

October 26, 2076:  25 days after the release of Awaken Online.

Somewhere within Awaken Online.

Dominic Hart had always had terrible luck.

But never quite like this.

His right shoulder was dislocated, and his arm hung limply at his side.  The limb let out a dull, incessant ache, his body’s helpful “reminder” of the injury.  The carpal bones in his left hand were fractured – several entirely crushed.  A burning sensation radiating from his left leg indicated either a torn IT band or possibly the hamstring, but the pain made it difficult to pinpoint the injury with precision.  All he knew for sure was that he couldn’t put his full weight on the leg and could only manage a slow limp.

Dom rubbed the blood from his eyes, smearing the tacky substance across his cheek and the back of his hand.  Not that he was too concerned about his appearance right now.  His plain cloth tunic and trousers were already stained a dark crimson, blood leaking from multiple cuts and scrapes.  And the UI notice in the corner of his vision indicated that the bleed damage was starting to stack up, his health dropping swiftly and red notifications flashing a warning.

As if his injuries weren’t bad enough, the scene before him was even worse.

He stood at the mouth of a narrow valley sandwiched between two towering cliffs.  The sun was just beginning to fall below those peaks, its waning rays illuminating the crude fort that rested in the center of the valley.  It might have once been planted among the dense, tropical vegetation that marked this region.  But those trees had long since been cut away to fortify the camp’s defenses.  The lumber had been repurposed to build walls and makeshift ramparts, leaving a smooth expanse of ground broken only by dozens of tree stumps.

As Dom stared hazily at the fort, he could barely make out other materials wedged in with the native timber, reflecting the waning light.  He knew that was scrap metal.  Discarded weapons and armor – the metal long past the point where it could be repaired or repurposed.  The remains of wagons and carts.  Anything its occupants could steal or scavenge from the travelers brave or foolish enough to venture down into these valleys.

As for the fort’s occupants, a miniature army was arrayed along those ramshackle walls.  There must have been a hundred, at least.  More likely hidden within.  They were roughly human-sized and covered in green skin thick as leather, their bodies muddied and coated with muck that concealed rope-like muscle.  Their weapons were similarly roughshod.  Patchwork guns and cannons powered by black powder.  Rusted and chipped swords and spears.  Half-broken armor strapped haphazardly across their bodies.

And their glowing yellow eyes all glared at Dom.  A lone, broken, unarmed man.

“Damn it,” he muttered, even those few words costing him.  A cough racked his chest, his hand lifting to his mouth reflexively only to come away stained with more blood.

Internal bleeding.  Punctured lung most likely, he noted absently.

On second thought, that could be why his shirt was soaked.

He wavered for a moment before planting his feet firmly, steadying himself.

Dom looked up just in time to see the goblins raise their guns toward him, several crews of the green-skins pivoting the canons in his direction.  Those things didn’t look like they could fire without bursting apart, much less hit with any precision.  Although Dom suspected that wouldn’t matter.  What the goblins lacked in accuracy or intelligence they made up for in raw numbers and a complete lack of self-preservation.  Overkill was all they knew.  They clearly planned to blast the entire area.

And there wasn’t a damn thing Dom could do about it.

Only stand there as time seemed to slow.

Watch as dozens of crude muskets fired, creating puffs of black smoke along the fortification.

Miniature quakes rocked the ground as the cannons added to the fray in a series of concussive booms that left Dom’s ears ringing, even from this distance.  More than one cannon exploded completely, and metal shrapnel blasted apart sections of the wall along with their crews.

Not that the other goblins paid this any attention.

Missiles streaked toward him, smaller pellets and the larger cannonballs speeding through the air with a whistling whine.  As they began to strike – to tear up the earth around him and send geyser of dirt spewing upward – Dom remained still, unmoving.  Missiles tore through his unprotected skin.  His bicep.  Lower abdomen.  Dirt sprayed him as a cannonball blasted apart the ground nearby, and he staggered in place.

Yet, still, he remained standing.

He couldn’t tell if it was the pain or perhaps the futility of his situation, but an uncomfortable question kept echoing through his mind.  A memory.  Persistent.  Inevitable.  Unavoidable.  Painful in a way his injuries couldn’t quite match.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you…”

Chapter 1 - Diagnosis

October 11, 2076:  10 days after the release of Awaken Online.

University Health Clinic

“Are you okay?”

Dom blinked hard and glanced to the side to find a man staring at him, his face framed by the edges of a glowing screen.  The display floated above a small desk that had been squeezed into this tiny, white-walled room.  The man’s face looked haggard, and dark circles hung under his eyes.  Or perhaps his white coat just made the rings look more pronounced and his skin paler.  This session was meant to offer a personal touch, a “human face” to the otherwise emotionally hygienic medical complex that had developed over the decades.

Yet it still felt cold, cramped, and callous.

Impatience and frustration flitted across the doctor’s face, warring with his effort to maintain a mask of compassion.  “Mr. Hart?  Are you okay?”

An obligatory question, likely intended to avoid liability.  Dom was sure this session was being recorded.  He vaguely remembered seeing something about that amid the pile of paperwork he’d been forced to sign beforehand.  But he wasn’t sure how to answer the question.  He just felt… numb.  Overwhelmed by the emotions that were tumbling through his head.

A sigh from the doctor.  “Do you understand your diagnosis?”

Dom looked back at the foreboding image painted across the nearby wall.  The results of the gauntlet of tests they’d just put him through.  Irregular masses were present in both knees and one elbow – frightening black lumps that stood out in stark contrast to the bleached white bone.  “Soft-tissue Sarcoma,” the doctor had called it.  It had already begun to metastasize.  Aggressively.

Because, of course, it had…

He squeezed his eyes shut against those images.  Dom had originally attributed the pain and pressure in his knees to his training and had put off having tests done.  He was a 21-year-old college athlete, after all.  He was young.  He ate a healthy diet.  He didn’t smoke or drink.  Hell, it wasn’t like he had any damn time to party between training and classes.  He’d done everything right.  And yet, the universe had still decided to drop this bomb in his lap.

It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t right.  It had to be a dream…

“Mr. Hart?” the doctor insisted, his mask of civility crumbling.

Dom’s eyes snapped open, and he grunted.  “Yes, yes, I’m sorry.  I understand.”

“Good.  I suggest we begin treatment immediately.  Surgery to remove the existing tumors.  Chemotherapy.  We need to attack this hard and fast.”  A heavy pause.  “Even so, I feel like I need to be upfront with you.  Your odds aren’t great.  Not with us catching it this late.  You likely have a less than 15% chance of survival at five years – assuming we begin immediately.”

He hesitated, glancing away from the screen.  “Although, there are some impressive, experimental treatments available nowadays that could dramatically improve your odds.  We’ve seen remarkable results with some patients using these new methods.  They’ll only be available to our gold and platinum patients, of course.”

Yeah, right, Dom thought to himself.

He wasn’t sure if his healthcare plan even had a color.

“How much?” Dom asked, struggling to keep his voice even.  “How much will treatment cost?  I don’t have insurance, and neither does my father, so I’m using the school’s medical services and paying out of pocket right now.”

He looked up just in time to see the doctor cock his head.  “Well, I’ll be frank, it’s going to be expensive.  Roughly, $250-300,000 is possible for our basic treatment plan.  Maybe more, depending on your response to treatment.  Gold and platinum will run anywhere from $500K-$1M.  We have some payment plans available, and there are support groups that can help with funding your medical costs.  Of course, crowdfunding has always been popular…”

Dom began to tune him out.  $250,000+?  On the low end? And that was for a 15% chance…  How was he going to come up with that – much less pay for those other crazy treatments?  Forget crowdfunding or handouts.  They likely wouldn’t come close.  And his dad certainly didn’t have that kind of money.  Dom knew he would try to help, but he was already scratching by as it was.  Hell, Dom had only been able to afford tuition and housing with his football scholarship, and even then, he barely had enough funds left over to feed himself.

“And if I don’t get treatment?” Dom interrupted.  “How long?”

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but not even a flicker of compassion flashed across the doctor’s face.  He was like a robot – perhaps anesthetized to a conversation he’d been forced to have far, far too many times.  “Maybe six months.  Probably not longer than a year looking at your scans,” he replied.

A year or less?  That was a death sentence.

Fuck, Dom thought to himself.

The doctor glanced down at his Core and grimaced.  “I’m sorry.  This certainly isn’t good news, but I’m already late for another appointment.  The nursing staff should help you set up your follow-up appointment and will speak with you about payment options.”

“Okay… uh, thanks—”

Before Dom could finish speaking, the screen stuttered and then cut out, the logo for the university’s healthcare services department flashing across the display, which left him sitting alone in that tiny room with only his thoughts.

The door creaked open some time later.  Although, he couldn’t say for certain how long he’d been sitting there, staring at that screen.  “Dominic Hart?” a woman asked.  She was young.  Maybe early thirties.  Her uniform marking her as a member of the nursing staff.  “Are you—”

“Yes… yeah,” Dom cut her off quickly – not quite able to handle having that question posed to him yet again.  More forced civility and hollow politeness that landed like a punch to the gut.  “I guess we need to do some paperwork, huh?” He forced a smile onto his face despite the chaos brewing in his chest.  If he gave in to it, he knew it would drown him.

“Indeed, we do,” she replied, although concern was reflected in her gaze.  It seemed he wasn’t quite as convincing as he’d thought.  “My name’s Vivian.  If you’ll follow me…”  She trailed off, stepping out of the room, and Dom grudgingly followed her lead, wincing as he settled his weight onto his knees.

She led him through a winding series of hallways, dozens of other students stepping in and out of generic, tiny rooms.  Dom watched them from a different perspective now.  When he’d walked into the clinic, he’d been just like them.  Carefree.  Thinking he just had some minor issue that could be addressed with a few pills or something.  Now it felt like he was walking to the gallows.  He couldn’t help but resent the expressions on their faces.  The way they walked – free of the insurmountable weight that had just settled upon his shoulders.  They were lucky.

He wished he had some of that luck right now.

“Here we are,” Vivian declared, tapping at the counter, and a screen popped into existence.  “Let me just pull up your…” she trailed off as the screen shifted.  “Oh.  Oh my,” she murmured, unable to stop herself from glancing at Dom.  The pity in her eyes somehow felt worse than the doctor’s indifference.

Like a hammer blow to the chest.

Confirmation that this was real.  That he was dying.

“I know, I know.  My bloodwork and vitals are pristine.  Everyone likes to swoon over my resting heart rate and blood pressure.  But please, try to keep your hands to yourself,” he offered with another forced smile.  If he could just push this shit to the side, bury it under a mountain of bullshit and bravado, maybe he could…

He couldn’t finish that thought.  Could do what?  Cure his cancer with the power of self-delusion?  Bury his head in the sand for six months?

Although, maybe asphyxiation would be a better way to go…

Vivian chuckled softly, but he could tell she was humoring him.  More pity that had him grimacing behind her back as she turned to the console.  “I’ll try my best.  Anyway, you’ll need to make your way through all of these forms.  I’ve also included a few applications for groups that offer financial support—”

Dom snorted out a soft laugh of his own this time, the figures the doctor had cited still ringing through his mind.  Unless he had a long-lost relative that just so happened to keel over and leave him a massive inheritance, he was screwed.

Vivian frowned.  Clearly, she’d noted his lack of insurance.  “There are also some emotional support groups that might help.” She stopped herself short, tilting her head and her eyes lighting up.  “Actually, we have a new therapy program that would be a great fit for you.  We’ve been running it for a few weeks now.  Although, we’ve had a ton of people sign up already, so the odds aren’t great that you’ll make the cut,” she amended in a more subdued tone.

“Well, that sounds perfect,” Dom quipped.  “Because I’m an incredibly lucky guy.  I’m actually thinking of hitting up a casino later.”  A soft sigh escaped his lips as he saw her timid smile.  “What’s the program?”

“Hmm, do you happen to like video games?” Vivian asked.

“Uh, sure?” Dom offered hesitantly.  “But how is a game supposed to help me cope with cancer?”

“It’s not a typical game, apparently.  The program is sponsored by Cerillion Entertainment.”  Vivian looked at him meaningfully.

As she noted his eyes widen, she continued, “Yeah, that Cerillion.  The logo you see on practically everything.”  She waved at the terminals lined up on the counter before them, familiar emblems painted across the plastic.  “Our benevolent corporate overlords.  But they’ve just come out with a new VR headset and game that’s supposed to be revolutionary – it’s been advertised everywhere.  I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it already.  Awaken Online?”

Dom just shrugged.  “Don’t have much time for games.  Just work, study, train.  That’s basically my entire world.”

Or, at least, it was, he amended silently.  Now, all that struggle seemed pointless.

“Well, they’re pitching it as a sort of trial therapy for our patients.”  Vivian offered.  “I know, it sounds more like a PR gimmick than something helpful.  But the feedback from our patients has been incredible and they’re still looking for volunteers, so why not give it a try?  Besides, your… condition might bump you up the list.  Normally the equipment and the subscription cost a small fortune.”

Dom shrugged again.  “Sounds okay, I guess.”

Another lie.  He didn’t see the point.  He was going to die either way.  No therapy was going to make that okay.  Besides, was he going to spend his last few months – or weeks – playing some game?  And that question only led to other, more uncomfortable ones.  Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to face right now.  Like what was he going to do with the time he had left?

“Alright, let’s do some paperwork,” he declared, clapping his hands together to dispel his own bleak thoughts before turning back to the console.

“Great, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Vivian declared before stepping off down a nearby hallway.  Dom just grunted in acknowledgment, his hands drifting across the glowing keyboard projected in front of him.

What seemed like an eternity and at least several dozen forms later, Vivian returned, stepping up beside Dom and glancing at the screen.  “All done?”

“Think so.”

She skimmed through the paperwork rapidly before nodding.  “Yep, looks like everything is in order.  Your follow-up is in a few days, and we’ll send you a reminder.”

“Appreciate it,” Dom said with a nod, already heading toward the exit.  “Thanks for your help,” he shot back over his shoulder.  His composure was already beginning to crumble, and he wanted to get out of this very public place before he broke down completely.  The last thing he needed was for rumors of his condition to make it back to the team.  Even if that was inevitable.

He’d have to figure out some way to tell them.  Maybe talk to his coach?

And then there was his dad…

Dom sighed, rubbing at his eyes.  He didn’t want to deal with any of that right now.  Didn’t want to deal with the words and tears and pity that would flow from those conversations.  Didn’t want to pile on – increasing the burden that already rested on his old man’s shoulders.  Reinforce how he’d likely live to see both his wife and his son buried.  Dom just wanted to be alone.  Where no one could pose impossible questions.

Or give him any more bad news.

“No problem,” Vivian murmured, staring after him, her brow furrowed.

The truth was that she had not only seen his file and the prognosis the attending physician had uploaded after their session but also his personal notes.  “No insurance.  Treatment unlikely.  6-12 months until condition terminal.  Route file to legal affairs for pre-review pending possible litigation from patient’s family.”

The unfairness of it all weighed on Vivian.  His age.  He looked to be in great shape.  And then there was the way Dom had tried to cover his despair with humor – that struck even harder.  It was days like this when she hated her job.  Hated working for a clinic that was supposed to be helping the university’s students – not handing a young man a terminal diagnosis and then attempting to head off any potential liability without a thought for his wellbeing.  There was a coldness, an indifference, to this system that made her heart lurch.

That might have been why Vivian turned back to the console.  Why she looked through Dom’s paperwork a second time – more carefully.  She soon noticed that he’d left the Cerillion Entertainment application blank.  That struck a chord with her.  The futility of it.  The despair.  She could see Dom’s reasoning.  If he was going to die, what good was a videogame?

She grimaced, her hands hesitating over the keys.

Then they began moving quickly.  She filled in the app for him, even going the extra step to send it to Amy in processing and explain the situation.  Amy had been raving about this program for weeks now – several of the beta keys having been handed out already.  Apparently, the patients who’d tried this game had shown remarkable improvements in their mood and emotional health.  Some had even seen their symptoms abate.  Maybe it was just a placebo.  A distraction.  But Vivian had been doing this long enough to notice a connection between a patient’s emotional health and their response to treatment.

Still, it wasn’t much.  It wouldn’t cure Dom’s illness.  Or the heartless injustice of the system in which she worked.  But it was something.

Something that made it feel like she had some measure of control.

As his student profile picture popped back up on the screen, Vivian looked at it once more, the lopsided grin and youthful optimism in his eyes.  It barely resembled the man who had just walked out of the clinic.  “I hope this helps,” Vivian murmured.  Then she closed out of his file, and the screen went blank once more.

It was in the hands of fate now.

Chapter 2 - Fate

Dom stood outside the door of his apartment.

He’d been standing there for a few minutes already, trying to marshal his composure.  The trip home had gone relatively smoothly.  He hadn’t broken down on the sidewalk.  Or the tram.  And he’d even managed not to step into traffic – not that those damn driverless cars would likely have hit him anyway.  Although, that stray thought had sent him down a rabbit hole.

Could he even end his own life?  And how?

He didn’t own a car, but even if he did, carbon monoxide emissions were basically zero on most vehicles.  Even modern-day guns could detect a suicide attempt – which was certainly one way to tamp down on gun violence statistics, he supposed.  Knives were still an option, but the implants beneath his skin would likely send a medical alert long before he bled out.  There were pills… assuming he could get a prescription or pay for it.  Maybe hang himself?  Jump off a building?  Although, both options assumed his knees would oblige.

There was a strange sense of irony to it all.  That this “perfect modern world” would do so little to help him, and yet make it so hard to just skip to the end of his story.  Cut to the chase and avoid months of pain and hardship.  It should be so easy…

It was almost like the universe was punishing him.

Because now he had to do something much, much harder.

With a sigh, he swiped his Core across a panel beside the door, and the deadbolt slid free with a click.  He pushed the door open and stepped into his apartment.  It wasn’t much to look at.  A little larger than most in the area, but he and his three teammates still barely squeezed into the space.  They’d even recommissioned the living room, dividing it into two makeshift bedrooms with a divider wall made out of a bedsheet.  It was cramped, but it was livable.  And most importantly, affordable since the university’s athletics department was footing the bill.

In a rare stroke of fortune, Dom had even won the coin toss for the bedroom – complete with a working door!  Although, Steve’s makeshift bedroom was actually more spacious in comparison.  Dom was pretty sure his room had once been a broom closet.

“What’s up, my man?” Steve drawled, lounging on his bed. A screen was projected into the air before him, streaming gameplay footage by the looks of it.

“Nothing much—” Dom began.

Only to stop short as he felt a fist grind into his obliques.  He reacted without thinking, grabbing the offending hand before twisting and pushing his attacker up against the wall in one fluid movement, his arm creaking in protest.

“Ugh, damn man, you’re fast.  ‘Specially for a cripple,” Justin grunted from against the wall.  “You gonna let me up?  If you hurt my arm, coach will flip.”

“Yeah, yeah… maybe it’ll teach you a lesson, though,” Dom shot back, loosening his grip on his teammate’s arm – only to have to lean heavily against the nearby wall to avoid falling.  “You’ve been getting cocky lately,” he grunted, covering for the throbbing ache in his knees.  He’d barely managed to make it home.

Justin rubbed his shoulder as he huffed out a laugh.  “Or maybe I’m just that good!”

“Good enough to try sneaking up on our middle LB?” Steve retorted from the living room.  “Dom’s a goddamn wall.  He will break you, man.  I don’t care how fast you are or what’s going on with his knees at the moment.”

“Pssh, my family’s part rabbit,” Justin shot back with a grin.

“Suuuure,” Steve drawled.  He hesitated.  “Although, that might explain why you have like six siblings...”  Justin let out a good-natured roar before charging his teammate, sending the pair toppling to the floor.

Dom would normally engage in their bickering or try to break up their impromptu scuffle, but today he just wasn’t feeling it, his thoughts otherwise occupied.  It was those damn questions that kept circling through his brain.  Unwanted.  Unwelcome.

How many more times would Justin try to sneak up on him?  How many more times would he hear these two going at it?  And it wasn’t just his roommates.  What about the rest of the team?  His coaches?  His friends?

“—do you think, Dom?”

His attention snapped back into focus.  “Uh, what?” Dom asked, looking at Justin, who had returned to the kitchen, his war over for now.

Justin’s brow furrowed.  “About hitting the lake this weekend?  We’ve been in the queue for weeks, and it finally popped.”  Another glorious perk of the modern world.  You now needed to stand in a digital line to experience a bit of nature; otherwise, it tended to get trampled under hundreds of feet and littered with trash.

“Ton of people are going.  Should be fun,” Steve added from the other room.

Normally it would be.  But that just sounded like Dom’s own personal hell at the moment.

“I think I’m good,” he muttered, rubbing at his neck, and starting to head toward his room.  He didn’t want to let them see his face – not right now.

“You get some bad news at the clinic?” Justin called after him.

“Yeah… yeah, something like that,” Dom replied.  He slowed.  A thought just occurred to him, something to ease his burden a bit.  “Actually, you mind telling Coach that I’m going to be missing practice for a couple weeks?  I have a doctor’s note and everything,” Dom offered with a faint smile – one that cost him.

“Anything serious?” Steve asked, shifting on his bed.

Dom raised his hands.  “Nah, nothing like that.  Just doctor’s orders.  My knees have been acting up,” he explained, leaning on the same excuse.

“Yeah, sure, not a problem,” Justin replied, although he didn’t look entirely convinced.  Judging from the way the pair shared a look, neither was Steve.

“Thanks,” Dom grunted, and then disappeared into his room, the door shutting with a quiet thump, followed swiftly by another as his back landed against the reinforced plastic.  From that position, he could still hear his roommates on the other side, their voices muffled and Dom missing every few words.  But the message was clear.

“Did he seem… off to you?” Steve asked quietly.

“Maybe….  Weird for Dom to ask for time off.  Guy’s a damn machine.  He’s still been hitting the gym even with the leg stuff.”  That was Justin.

“You think it’s something else?”

“I don’t know…”

“…we should keep an eye on…”

Dom winced, sinking to the ground and cradling his face in his hands, knowing it was going to be hell getting back up again.

It seemed his act hadn’t been good enough – yet again.

But their suspicion was still better than the alternative.  If he told them the truth, they would have just looked at him the same way that nurse had.  The pity.  The handholding.  The quiet looks filled with remorse… and something else.  Relief?  That it wasn’t them.  That fate had decided to shit on someone else.  No matter how well-intentioned they might be, it would still be there, lingering just below the surface.

No, it was better to just put on an act.

But for right now, for just a few precious minutes, he could finally let that mask drop – could finally let the chaotic whirlwind of emotion boiling in his chest sweep him away.

So, Dom did.  He sunk down into that morass, his façade fully and finally cracking as it gave way to despair.  Pain.  Anger.

***

Time was a funny thing.

Dom could remember moments when he’d felt joyously happy.  Seeing a new film as a kid.  Going to a game with his old man.  Hanging out with his friends and getting into trouble.  In those moments, time seemed to pass in an instant.  Fleeting.  Ephemeral.  Like the harder he tried to hold onto it, the faster it fled his grasp.

And at other times, it seemed to drag on interminably.  Almost always when he didn’t want it to.  When he was injured.  Laid up with a strain or a broken bone.  Awkward moments that seemed to stretch on for forever and a day.  Pain and hardship seemed to weigh it down, dragging time out to an excruciating crawl.

The last few days had crept by with painstaking slowness.

Dom had forced himself to keep up his routine.  Class, weight room and training – what he could manage with his knees, anyway – then more class.  A revolving loop.  His goal wasn’t explicit.  He didn’t give himself enough time to think about it.  Just kept plodding forward like normal, as though that might make all of his problems disappear.  As though he might finally wake up from this living nightmare.  But that never happened.

That hollow feeling in his chest just kept growing.

And his luck only continued to sour.

His classes were getting harder, the work piling up, and midterms were approaching.  He’d been dodging his coaches for days.  Although, they seemed to have bought his medical excuse, which should give him a few weeks.  If it weren’t for HIPAA, they might already know his diagnosis.  And even worse?  Dom had taken a quiet moment to review his scholarship terms with the university.  Buried under all that legal bullshit was a tiny clause – one with a devastating impact.

If he couldn’t play, his scholarship disappeared.  And with it went his tuition.  And his housing.  He could put off this problem, but it wouldn’t go away.  Those bills would just increase the crazy estimate the doctor had given him.  $250,000 plus 6-12 months of living expenses?  And what were his options?  Give up his room?  Move back in with his dad?  Even then, he wouldn’t have enough to afford his treatment.  So, he’d just get sicker and sicker.

And a “quick” online search sent him down another spiral.

Eventually, he wouldn’t be able to walk.  He would be in constant pain.  And his dad wouldn’t be able to afford to take off time to take care of him.

It just seemed hopeless.  He had no options.  No plan.

By the third day, Dom just couldn’t do it anymore.  Couldn’t keep up the pretense.

He’d barely left his room today, lying on his bed and staring up at the popcorn texture of his ceiling.  His Core was silenced.  No music played.  No TV blared.  The stack of biology and kinesiology textbooks lay unopened on the floor.  His half-assed notes unreviewed.  He was just alone with his thoughts – only leaving his bedroom to grab some food or hit the bathroom.  His dad had called, but he’d let it go to voicemail, just texting back that he was underwater right now with school and practice.  His professors’ emails went unanswered.

He hadn’t even gone to the follow-up appointment.  What was the point?  He could barely pay for that visit, much less the treatment he needed.

It all felt impossible.  Pointless.  Insane.  The mountain of misfortune just weighed down on him.  Heavy.  Crushing.  Leaving him feeling like he was drowning – like he couldn’t get enough air.  He couldn’t breathe…

Then there was a rap at the door.

Dom let out a grunt, and the door drifted open, Steve stepping inside.  “Hey, man…”  he trailed off as he saw the dimly lit room and Dom lying on the bed, a few empty bowls resting on the floor beside him – the remains of what little he’d eaten over the last few days.

“Uh, are you okay?” Steve asked tentatively.

Dom winced.  That fucking question again.

“Yeah, yeah, man.  I’m fine,” Dom murmured, forcing himself to sit upright.  “Just feeling under the weather.  The meds they have me on for my knees…”

“What’s going on?” Dom asked when his roommate just hesitated.

“Uh,” Steve began, “Well, this package came for you,” he offered, holding out a box emblazoned with a familiar logo – Cerillion Entertainment.

Dom’s brow furrowed.  Why would he be getting something from Cerillion.  Then it clicked.  The nurse.  The forms.  But he could have sworn he hadn’t filled them out…

“Oh, thanks,” he replied, accepting the package, and setting it on the floor beside him.

“So, you thinking about getting into gaming?” Steve asked, waving at the box.  “Been hearing some cool things about that tech.  Way too expensive for my blood.  You been holding out on us, bro?” he asked with a smile.

“Yeah, won the lottery,” Dom chuckled.  He had to think fast.  “My dad won this stuff.  Bonus at work.  Decided to give it to me.  Not really his thing,” Dom murmured, eyeing the box.

“Lucky,” Steve muttered.

Dom could only wince at that.

Then another strained silence.  Time still moving at a glacial pace.

“Well, uh, if you need anything.  Or someone to talk to, you know I’m here, right?  All of us are here for you, man,” Steve offered.  There it was, that tone again.

Dom forced himself to paint a grin on his face even if every muscle rebelled at the effort, lifting his eyes to meet his roommate’s.  “It’s alright, man.  I’ll be fine.  Just need some time to recover, that’s all.  But I appreciate the thought.”

“Right, right,” Steve replied.  “Well, have fun with the game.”

With that, he slid back out of the room, the door thumping shut once again and leaving Dom alone.  Alone with the telltale white box resting beside him.  He glared at the package, his thoughts racing.  Had that nurse signed him up?  But why?  Pity?  A toy for a dying guy?  Like some sort of Make-A-Wish thing?  As though a trip to a theme park or some other bullshit would actually fix his problem.  Dom was half tempted to throw the damn box out the window.

Yet something stopped him.  He couldn’t even say for sure what it was.

Maybe he could use a distraction.  Something to take his mind off this problem.  He’d just been lying here for hours, and that had accomplished exactly fuck-all.  At the same time, he wasn’t ready to confront the others yet.  To tell them the truth.  To deal with their reactions.

This game sure as hell wouldn’t fix his problems, but maybe it would blunt that dull, ever-present ache in his stomach.  It might let him get enough distance on the mountain of crap he faced to own up to his situation instead of running away from it.  At minimum, at least the other players wouldn’t know him.  Wouldn’t give two shits about his problems.

That thought was almost refreshing.  Almost.

Dom reached out gingerly, picking away at the packaging.  Moments later, he lifted a solid black helmet from the box.  It was made of thick plastic, vaguely resembling a motorcycle helmet.  And accompanying the headset was a small, obsidian obelisk.  He placed it on the floor beside his bed, attaching the headset with a thin cable.

As he lifted the box, a small piece of paper fluttered out, some handwriting scrawled across its surface.  He lifted it tentatively, Dom’s eyes widening as he read the message:

I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and I know this doesn’t seem like much.  But, please, give it a try.  Even for just a few minutes.

"The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." – Albert Camus

Vivian

Dom sat there, staring at that note.  It certainly confirmed his suspicions.  More than that, he could remember the look on that nurse’s face – genuine compassion shining there.  Enough that it had almost cracked through his armor that day.  And for her to go the extra mile like this… to forge an application…  Why?  What was so special about this damn game?

And then there was the quote.  He didn’t know if it meant something to Vivian or if she’d just regurgitated something she’d found online.  But he found himself reading those words again and again, even as he imagined Sisyphus rolling that boulder up a mountain – only for it to tumble back down.  Something about the passage resonated with him.

The futility and pain and… note of hope?

Dom set the note down carefully and lifted the helmet, cradling it in his hands.

“What the hell,” he muttered.  What did he have to lose?

Dom lifted the headset and pulled it down over his face, his vision suddenly plunging into darkness.  He powered the headset on by tapping at the side of the helmet.  A screen soon flickered into existence in front of him, floating in that dark abyss.

System Initializing

Scanning User…  Please Wait.

Dom lay back on the bed, a few minutes ticking past slowly.

And then…

System Initialized

Scanning complete.  Initiating boot sequence.

Welcome to Awaken Online!

Before Dom could question what was happening, the notice abruptly disappeared, and blinding white light flooded his vision.  And, with that, he entered the world of Awaken Online.

Chapter 3 - Gamble

Dom landed hard, his chest slamming into something dense and smooth, sending the wind rushing from his lungs in a whoosh.  He lay there for a moment, desperately trying to suck in air.  As he gradually began to recover, he let out a groan and shoved himself upright.  His limbs protested, and his head was ringing, although it didn’t quite feel like a concussion.

Can I even get a concussion in a game?

So much for easing him into this.

“The hell was that…” Dom muttered, rubbing at his head.  The damn chimes in the background weren’t making his headache feel any better.

Wait… what chimes?

Dom looked up, only for his jaw to go slack.

He was sitting on a waxed marble floor in the entrance to what appeared to be a sprawling casino.  A broad set of oaken double doors stood at his back, towering nearly twelve feet into the air with a lone “Exit” sign lingering above them.  Although, the sign was dim, as though the bulbs had burned out, and no one stepped through that imposing doorway.

Turning back to the casino, Dom saw that the stone tiles cut a path through the floor, parting a red sea of carpet lined with machines and tables.  And there were people sitting at those machines, yanking at levers.  More sat at the tables, although the crowd was pretty thin.  Maybe it was a weekday in-game?  Meanwhile, the sound of the machines echoed through the palatial room, piercing through the incessant buzz of the guests.

“What’s going on here?” Dom thought as he hauled himself to his feet.  “Isn’t this supposed to be a game?  Does it take place in a casino?”

He didn’t see any signage or obvious indication as to what he should be doing.  What kind of game literally dumped him on the floor of a digital casino without any direction?  He supposed he could just log out – give up on whatever the hell this was.

But his curiosity got the better of him.

So, instead, Dom wandered through the casino, stepping along the rows of machines only to pause in alarm.  Originally, the machines had looked normal.  But up close, he could see that they weren’t composed of the usual plastic and electronics.  Instead, they were mostly metal affairs, copper tubing and piping coiling around the squat boxes in true steampunk fashion.  And the lights that lit their surface weren’t LEDs.  They looked like… crystals?  And they gave off a soft glow that seemed to come from within the gems.

He reached out gingerly, his fingers touching one of the machines, only to feel cold, smooth metal and warm crystal.  Sensations that sure as hell felt real.

His brow furrowed, but Dom pressed onward.  More of the machines filled the floor.  Crystals glittered and danced in a dizzying array of colors.  But Dom looked past the razzle-dazzle and dim lighting to what lay just below the surface.  Many of the machines were chipped.  A number were offline entirely.  The carpet was frayed, and the tile smudged and stained.  He also hadn’t caught sight of any staff.

His attention shifted to the patrons.  What few people graced this establishment were dressed in an eclectic ensemble, even for a place like Vegas.  He’d never seen someone play poker in platemail before.  And some Gandalf-looking dude was playing the slots.

Maybe they’re doing a LARP special today? Dom wondered, shaking his head.

However, with the way the patrons side-eyed him and reached for their weapons when they noticed his gaze, Dom also wasn’t anxious to start posing questions.

It took him some time to make the rounds of the floor, a testament to the size of the casino.  But eventually, Dom found himself sitting at a vacant blackjack table – or whatever version of that game they played in this place.  His eyes skimmed the floor, his brow creased in confusion as questions swam through his mind.  Like, what was this place?  What was he supposed to do here?  Was this Awaken Online?  Or something else entirely?

Dom was half-tempted to leave and double-check whether he’d accidentally logged into a gambling sim.  Although, that raised the question of how he was supposed to leave.  He’d noted that this place had no doors – except for that imposing entrance, anyway.  And no windows.  It appeared some things didn’t change, in-game or out.

But I can still log out, right?  This is just a simulation, so there’s has to be a menu—

“You here to play or just stare?” a voice spoke up from the other side of the table.

Dom whirled, startled.  He hadn’t heard the man approach.  And yet, there he was.  A dealer stood on the other side of the table, his uniform – a gold and black vest and lime green visor – marking him as a member of staff.  But more importantly, was this person real?  Part of this simulation?  An NPC?  He sure looked like a normal guy, right down to the irritated, harried expression the man was giving him.

Dom realized that he hadn’t actually returned his greeting. “Uh, hello.”

The dealer cocked an eyebrow.  “You slow?  Touched in the head?  Do you want to play or not?  I’ve got plenty of other guests to attend to,” he demanded, waving at the nearby tables.

Dom was taken aback by the man’s gruff demeanor.  Although, this was also the first employee he’d seen, so maybe that explained his mood.  “Uh, sure,” Dom replied, patting his pockets.  “But I don’t have any chips… or money.”

The dealer cocked his head, inspecting Dom in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable – almost like he could see through him.  “Ahh, a new patron of our grand establishment.”  Sarcasm laced this last sentence.  “In that case, you get a free chip on the house – casino policy.”

As the dealer spoke, a single coin seemed to materialize between his fingers, landing on the table with a faint click before he slid it forward.  Dom did a doubletake as he looked at the coin.  It appeared to be solid gold – although, that had to be fake – and a smiley face rested on one side.  But as he flipped the chip, he saw a frowning expression on the other side.  Dom shook his head.  He was getting a weird vibe from this place.

“So, you ready to test your luck?” the dealer asked.

Dom shook his head.  “Yeah, I’ve tested that already.  I’m probably one of the unluckiest people alive.  Besides, one chip will get me through what?  A single hand?  Not exactly good odds for me.  May as well just hand it over now.”

“Oh, really?” the dealer drawled.  “Well, in that case, why don’t we make things more interesting?  How about we make a bet – no chips involved?”

“Just want to take advantage, huh?” Dom shot back, arching an eyebrow.

“Not at all.  I’ll take your odds.  I bet that you win.  You bet that you lose.  Sound fair?”  The dealer stuck out his hand, clearly intending to shake on it.

Dom eyed that hand, still feeling uneasy.  “What’re the stakes?  You haven’t even mentioned what you get if you win.”

The dealer shrugged.  “Whoever loses owes the other a favor.”

“A favor, huh?”  Now that was sounding familiar.  Dom had spent enough time in places like this to know a con when he heard one.

The dealer leaned forward, his eyes watching Dom from under his visor.  “What’s wrong?  You don’t trust me?”

“Not even a little bit.”

A broad smile split the dealer’s lips.  “Good instincts.  But you realize all of this isn’t real, right?  It’s a simulation.  You’re sitting inside the perfect con already.  And talking to the ghost in the machine itself.  What’s a deal made with a digital hallucination anyway?”

Dom stared back, his eyes widening slightly.  Had this man just implied he wasn’t real – that he was an NPC?  And even acknowledged the game world?  That felt… weird – immersion breaking.  And yet, there was a certain cold logic to the dealer’s words.  He was right.  This wasn’t real.  So why the hell not?

There was also that small voice in the back of his head…

Even if it was real, would it really matter?

Because you’re—

“You know what?  Let’s do it,” Dom said abruptly.

“Fantastic,” the dealer replied dryly.  Cards appeared in his hands, blurring as he shuffled.  “So, I believe this game is called blackjack in your world,” he explained calmly.  Cards fluttered at lightning speed before the dealer cut the deck, and they came to a rest on the table.

Dom snorted.  “And you’re betting I win?  What stops me from just hitting continuously?”

“Ahh, so you’re familiar with the game,” the dealer observed, those uncanny eyes surveying him again.  “You’re also right, which is why there should be rules.  We play each other’s hands.  Best of five.  Sound fair?”

“Sure,” Dom murmured.

Cards fluttered again as the dealer dealt Dom’s cards.  Dom didn’t recognize the suit faces, but they seemed to loosely match a regular deck.  It looked like he had the equivalent of a knight and a three.  The dealer had an ace and a four of what appeared to be some sort of flame suit.  He’d watched a few other games during his trip through the casino, and the suits seemed to be based on the four elements.  It appeared that they were only playing with one deck, and this medieval casino didn’t seem to be using any modern tech.

That was going to make things easier.

Although, before he could marshal his thoughts, a fat black rat crawled up onto the table in plain daylight – or dim “mood lighting,” Dom supposed.  “The fuck is that?” Dom said, pushing himself away from the table.  He eyed the other patrons, but no one seemed to notice – or if they did, they certainly didn’t seem to care.

The dealer glared down at the offending animal.  “I told you, not on the tables – you’ll scare the guests,” he hissed at the creature.  The rat looked up at him sadly, its head and tail drooping, almost like he could understand the man.

The dealer scowled at the creature, but his expression soon cracked.  “Fine.  Fine.  But just behave okay?  And if someone turns up to do a health inspection, you disappear.”

The rat just nodded in response.

Dom could only stare.  So, the rat was sentient?  Perfect.

“This place looks like it’s been going to shit… but rats?  Really?” Dom asked.  The creature seemed to pick up on his words, looking at him with an offended expression.

The dealer just shrugged.  “We don’t have an infestation or anything.  This is, well, a pet, I guess you could say.”  That earned him an annoyed squeak from the rat – this time directed at the dealer.  “Or just a pest.  His name is Oscar.”

Dom shook his head.  No wonder this place wasn’t doing well if the owner was letting the staff bring pet rats out on the floor.  Meanwhile, the man across from him finished dealing Dom’s hand as though nothing of note had just happened, Oscar eyeing the cards carefully.

“So, what exactly is this place?” Dom asked, tapping to hit on the dealer’s hand.  A five.

The dealer hit on his hand as well.  An eight.  “Ahh, this is the Luckless Mark.  Also, bust.  Your hand.”  He dealt again.

Dom’s brow scrunched.  Hit.  The dealer mirrored him.  “Not quite what I meant.  I mean, is this place part of the game or…”  It seemed safe to pose this question, given that the dealer had already broken the fourth wall.

“My hand,” the man announced, pulling the cards back.  He dealt again.  “I guess you could think of this place like a waystation.  A journey for some and a destination for others.”

“Cryptic,” Dom grunted.

“My hand,” the dealer announced.  He dealt again.  “You seem at home here.”

“Why do you say that?” Dom shot back, frowning.  Hit.

The dealer cocked his head.  “You spend enough time in a place like this, and you start to pick up on things.  I saw you enter the casino.  The way you caught your bearings.  The way you paced the floor.  You watched the games in play.  Marked the suits.”

His eyes flicked up to Dom, noting his surprise.  “Your hand.  Two to two now.”  Cards fluttered, a new hand was dealt, and Oscar watched.

Dom coughed into his fist to cover his confusion at the weirdness of this whole situation.  “You saw me enter the casino, huh?  Then I’m guessing you aren’t just a regular dealer, are you?”  Most couldn’t afford to let their eyes wander from their tables.

A small smile met his words.  “Indeed, I’m not.”  The man swept into a short, almost mocking bow.  “I am the owner of this gleaming pile of shit.”

Even as the dealer spoke, a patron at a nearby machine pitched over, spewing the contents of his stomach all over the carpet.  Judging from the color and consistency, it was mostly beer and bile.  The dealer jerked his head at Oscar, the rat scurrying down the table before vanishing for a few seconds.  He soon returned, dragging a small, rat-sized bucket and mop.

“Uh-huh.  Sure.  The owner,” Dom replied skeptically as he watched a rat using a tiny mop.  Judging from this strange scene, he was guessing this place might be a bit understaffed.  “And does the owner have a name?”

“Most around here call me ‘Fuckhead.’  Or a ‘Cheat.’  Sometimes ‘Hey, You,’ he offered sourly.  “But those that bother to give me a proper name call me the Gambler.”

Dom let out a snort.  “Your hand,” Dom said.  The score was now two to three, his favor.  “Also, that’s pretty on the nose, don’t you think?”

“You are what you do, I always say,” the Gambler responded with a shrug, dealing again.  He peered at Dom below his visor.  “I wonder what it is that you do?  You aren’t here searching for adventure.  You don’t want treasure.  And you aren’t looking to self-destruct like so many of these other poor saps.”  He remarked with a wave at the rest of the floor.

Hit.  “What’s to say I’m looking for anything?” Dom asked.

The Gambler scoffed.  “Oh, come on.  Everyone that enters this place is looking for something.  A buzz.  Some free money.  To roll the dice on their life.  To create a little bit of conflict.”  At each statement, the Gambler pointed to the patrons.  A drunk at the bar.  A woman playing the slots feverishly.  A noble robed in luxurious silks pushing the rest of his chips into the center of a nearby table.

“Although, at its heart, we sell a single product,” the man continued, hitting again.  “This is a place where happiness is packaged and sold – reduced to cash and concrete probabilities.  Cold, hard capitalism at its finest,” he said with a bitter smile.

Just as the Gambler finished speaking, the woman at the slots hit a jackpot, crystals flaring to life and accompanied by a piercing chime as the machine spit out gold-plated coins.  She let out a hysterical scream, dropped to her knees, and began frantically trying to cram the coins into a too-small cup while glaring at anybody who came too close.

“See?  What’s not to love?” the Gambler quipped dryly.

The man looked back to him, those unblinking eyes staring.  “My hand.  Three to four.”

Although, Dom’s attention was on the noble at the nearby table.  He’d just lost.  Another player had set down a straight flush.  He looked on as the man began to melt down.  Dom had seen that look before.  The way he stared vacantly at the table as the pile of chips was pulled away.  As the reality of what he’d just done began to sink in.

Denial, anger, despair.  An inevitable, vicious cycle.

The truth was that Dom had seen these scenes more often than he cared to admit.  His mother had passed away when he was eight, which had left him with his dad – who spent all day every day performing maintenance on the machines at the local casinos or traveling out of town to visit far-flung establishments in need of repairs.  And with little income and no one else to look after his kid, he’d been forced to drag him along.  So, Dom had spent most of his childhood inside one casino or another.  He’d witnessed the highs and lows.  The glitz and the filth.  They went hand in hand.  Two sides of the same coin, so to speak.

And the Gambler was right.  The people that journeyed there had always been looking for something.  The Gambler dealt again.  They both hit.

“Your hand,” the Gambler announced.  “Four to four.”

The Gambler dealt again.  “Although, despite the chaos of this place, it’s always interesting.  It gives you a rare, unvarnished glimpse into the lives of the people around you.  In fact, I’d say I’ve gotten rather good at getting a read on people.”  His eyes flicked to Dom.  “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

For his part, Dom’s gaze remained fixed on the cards.  The Gambler had a Knight and a three.  He’d been counting the cards.  One deck and the number of hands made it relatively easy.  The dealer hadn’t even reshuffled when he reset the deck.

The Gambler didn’t wait for a response – or perhaps took his silence for acceptance.  “I see a young man who’s had a lot of tough breaks.  Your mother died.  Your father barely managed to scrape by.  Public schools.  Fights.  And who could blame you for being angry?  The world was stacked against you.  Yet you rose up anyway, clawed your way out of the hole with raw willpower.  Even got yourself a scholarship to a prestigious university.”

Dom was certainly looking at the Gambler now – the cards forgotten as his eyes widened and a queasy feeling welled in his stomach.  How had he known that?  Dom sure as hell hadn’t said anything.  He’d only been thinking about it.  Maybe the game had pulled data on him?  Constructed some sort of profile and unique narrative from info that was available online?  Even so, the Gambler’s words still felt too accurate.

“And, yet, the world just keeps shitting on you, doesn’t it?  Just when you feel like you’re getting a leg up, it smacks you back down,” the Gambler continued somberly.

Dom was staring, watching the knowing expression painted across this strange man’s face.  The image of a tiny white room returned to him suddenly.  Did the Gambler know about his diagnosis?  His death sentence.  With numb fingers, he hit…

…and the dealer busted with a Knight.

“See.  You just can’t catch a break – even when you bet against yourself,” the Gambler observed, eyeing the cards.

Dom’s gaze darted back to the table, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

Maybe the Gambler had just been talking about the cards.

“Sometimes, fate is a fickle bitch, despite all our efforts,” the Gambler continued.  He peered at Dom beneath his visor.  “But those hardships make room for new possibilities.”

“How?” Dom muttered, but he wasn’t talk about the Gambler’s words.

His eyes were fixed on the cards.  He’d been counting carefully.  That couldn’t have been a knight.  His eyes shot to the Gambler’s arms, only to see his sleeves were pulled back.  His hands had been on the table the entire time.  There was only one deck unless he’d added cards ahead of time.  Maybe he’d switched the cards when he reset the deck?

“You had to have cheated,” Dom said.

“And you didn’t?” The Gambler shot back dryly, those eyes staring at him again.  “Or do you think I didn’t notice you counting?  Not that I’m upset, mind you.  I admire a man who tries to take his fate into his own hands.  But ultimately, it was my game.  And I do believe you owe me a favor.”

Dom rubbed at his neck.  This whole experience had been weird, bordering on crazy.  But it was still a game, after all.  The stakes weren’t that high.  And besides, if nothing else, he was a man of his word.  “What do you want?” he grunted.

The Gambler studied him for a moment, long enough for Dom to shift uncomfortably in his chair.  “When you get to Aislen, don’t follow the tutorial or join any of the more fashionable clicks in town.  Instead, I want you to walk out the gate and kill the first hostile creature you find.”

Dom hesitated.  That instruction just raised more questions than it answered.  What was Aislen?  Maybe some sort of starting town?  And then this odd man wanted him to kill something?  What would that be like exactly?  This place looked and felt real.  Even now, Dom could feel the worn felt below his fingertips.  Could he feel pain?

But it’s still just a game.

“Why should I?” Dom shot back.  “It’s not like you can make me do anything—”

Dom was cut off as the Gambler moved forward in a blur of movement, a dagger appearing in his hand and stabbing downward in one fluid movement, the blade slicing between Dom’s fingers.  The knife just barely nicked Dom’s skin, leaving a line of searing pain in its wake – blood pooling along the cut and dripping onto the felt, just adding one more stain to the many that already dotted the table’s surface.

That definitely felt real, he thought in alarm.

Dom moved to pull his hand back but felt fingers curl around his wrist, locking it in place.  He looked up to find the Gambler leaning forward, his eyes peering at him from under his visor – Oscar watching silently nearby.  “Are you afraid to die, Dom?”

Dom could only stare back, his thoughts flailing.  If he’d been concerned before, he was well past freaked out now.  It was something in this man’s gaze – knowing, measuring, weighing, calculating.  He swallowed hard, trying to muster his willpower and reform the usual mask.  To shrug off that question.  Pretend nothing was wrong.

Even while every fiber of his being practically screamed, “Yes.”

“Um… I’m, uh… not…” Dom stumbled, his tongue suddenly unable to form words.

“Ahh, I’m just messing with you,” the Gambler said with a sudden grin, the tension evaporating as he released Dom.  As he pulled his hand back, Dom saw that the Gambler had stabbed a cockroach with the blade, impaling the insect against the felt.  “And sorry about that.  Been a minute since I’ve had the bug guy out to spray.”

As Dom looked on numbly, the Gambler pulled the blade free, and Oscar leaped forward, grabbing his new chitinous prize and swallowing it whole, rubbing his belly with one tiny paw.  It seemed Dom might have misinterpreted… again.  Maybe.

The cards fluttered as the Gambler shuffled.  “Now, if that’s all, those people behind you look like they’re ready to lose some of their hard-earned money.”  Dom turned to find a group of men and women standing near the entrance to the casino.  “And as you can see, we’re a little shorthanded,” he added, waving at the vacant tables nearby.

“Uh, okay,” Dom murmured, rising from the table and shaking his head.  He wasn’t even certain how to leave this place.  Or how to get to this “Aislen.”

He only took one step before the Gambler spoke up again.

“Hey.”  Dom turned, meeting the man’s eyes.  “As I said, I admire a man who takes control of his own destiny.  I think you and I could get along – and I hate most everyone.  In fact, I’ll even send you off with a present.”

“What do you—” Dom began.

“Never mind that.  I’m sure you’ll pick up things quickly.  I’m going to be watching you with interest.  Now, if you’ll show yourself out…”

As he trailed off, the Gambler waved his hand toward the entrance to the casino.  Dom followed the gesture, only to see the “Exit” sign above the door suddenly flash back on, glowing a bright red.  The massive doors below the sign began to creak open, a mawing, black abyss lingering just on the other side.

Dom turned back to the Gambler.  “Wait—”

He was cut off as he saw the Gambler give him a little wave, and a blast of wind swept through the casino.  A normal gust would have only been strong enough to tug at Dom’s clothing.  Yet this wind was unnatural.  It pressed against him with a thunderous weight, nearly shoving him off his feet.  Dom tried to resist, to lean into the gale.  But a sudden surge sent him tumbling backward, lifting him off the floor and rushing toward that dark expanse.

Dom shifted in midair, trying to orient himself, only just barely managing to grab the edge of the doorframe.  His arms strained against the gale-force winds that threatened to blast him out into that abyss, his fingers prying at the wood.  And still sitting at the table was the Gambler, watching him calmly.  None of the other patrons seemed affected by the scene, no one even bothering to look up, much less help him.

“Good luck!” the Gambler called out.  “You’re going to need it!”

A renewed blast of wind yanked Dom’s hands free and sent him hurtling out of the casino and into that dark void, weightless and confused, and his eyes fixed on that bright doorway.  The winds carried the Gambler’s laugh with it – a cackle filled with an equal measure of humor and malice that mixed with the sound of Dom’s calls for help.

Then that lone, bright doorway snapped closed, and there was only darkness.

Chapter 4 - Hard-Knock

Dom’s introduction to the game world wasn’t any more pleasant than his arrival in the casino.  His back slammed against something hard, and a pained grunt escaped his lips.  Although, after the first time, he was at least half expecting it.

What was wrong with this damn game?  Was it supposed to feel like he’d just gone skydiving without a parachute every time he was teleported to a new area?

Or maybe the game administrator just hated him.

He might be the only man to get shit on in two separate universes.

Dom shoved himself upright, taking in his new surroundings.

The casino was gone – as was the Gambler.  They had been replaced with the more traditional fantasy setting he’d expected.  He was sitting in a large courtyard, surrounded by other individuals wearing plain cotton tunics and pants along with sandals that wrapped up and around their calves.  They looked a bit like peasants.

Not that Dom had room to talk.  He glanced down to find he was wearing similar attire, and his regular clothes had vanished.  That must mean these were other players.  And judging by the way they spoke to each other animatedly, he was guessing they hadn’t just been shoved out the door of a casino or forced to free fall into the courtyard.

Just more evidence this game is out to get me specifically.

The sun shone high overhead, the blue sky marred only by a steady line of fluffy white clouds.  Dom could feel that warmth on his skin, as well as a strong, steady wind that tugged at his clothing.  He marveled at the feeling.  Apparently, pain wasn’t the only realistic sensation he could experience in-game.  Frankly, the level of realism was throwing him off.  If Dom hadn’t been sitting in his apartment a few minutes ago, he wasn’t sure he would know it wasn’t real.

The game must have decided it was time to reinforce that it wasn’t entirely realistic because a blue notification suddenly appeared in the air before Dom, glowing with a strange light.  His eyes widened, and he glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice the screen.  It must be unique to him then.

New Quest:  Hard-Knock Life

You had a rather interesting introduction to the game world and even met the Gambler himself.  Lucky you!  Our humble casino owner also granted you a quest, encouraging you to immediately leave the town of Aislen and slay the first creature you encounter.  Let’s just hope the area outside of town is filled with tame rabbits…

Difficulty:  S

Success:  Leave town and kill the first creature you encounter.

Failure:  Chicken out like a little *&#%$.

Reward:  Unknown.

New Ability:  Chaotic Blessing

Luck is indeed a fickle bitch.  But in your case, she’s downright malicious.

Skill Level:  Unranked

Effect:  Luck inverted and multiplied based on risk to the player.  This skill replaces your mana pool, and your avatar will no longer be able to cast spells.

Dom eyed the prompt quizzically.  Okay, the notice was definitely unique to him.  And it seemed that bitter asshole back in the casino had officially given him his first quest.  Yay.  Dom shook his head.  What was with the difficulty, though?  S?  What did that even mean?  Was that good or bad?

As he swiped aside that notice, he immediately saw the skill notification.  Maybe that was the “gift” the Gambler had mentioned.  Although, even that prompt raised more questions than it answered.  What did it mean for his luck to be inverted?  And he’d lost the ability to cast spells?  He hadn’t even known that was on the table!

So much for player choice…

He wasn’t given long to ponder on that, however.

“Alright, let’s get this started!  Please gather ‘round.”  A voice spoke up suddenly, carried on a gust of wind that swept through the crowd of noob players.  In contrast to the real world, Dom felt no pain as he shoved himself to his feet, marveling in the feeling.  However, he wasn’t given long to enjoy the sensation, as the crowd forced him over to the side of the courtyard.

As Dom filtered through the other travelers, he discovered a group of men and women standing along the side of the courtyard before a large wooden gate.  The building ringing the courtyard had an oriental feel to it.  Tapered roofs.  Paneled, papered walls.  Wooden decks and beams.  And the group addressing the crowd was similarly attired in layered mail that looked like something out of a samurai movie, as did the long blades slung across their backs.  Others wore robes etched with complex runes and held thick, oaken staves.

Frankly, they looked pretty cool, certainly better than the confused group of peasant-farmers that stood around Dom.

“I’m sure you all have a number of questions,” the same voice addressed the crowd.  Although, this time, Dom could see that it was attached to a grizzled, middle-aged man dressed in light armor, lighting a cigarette as he addressed the crowd, “First off, my name is Booker, and you’ve all had the distinct displeasure of spawning into the city of Aislen.  As for myself, I’m leader of the <The Jackals>, the guild that controls this place.”

This set off the crowd, the players murmuring among themselves.  Dom could only look on uncertainly.  Was it unusual for a group of players to control a city?  He knew exactly nothing about this game.

“Yes, you heard me right,” Booker confirmed, his voice booming across the crowd.  Dom noticed the woman beside him twitch her fingers, just a faint coil of amber energy drifting out toward the players, followed by a stiff breeze.  A mage maybe?  She must be giving him some sort of magical megaphone.

A perfect example of a spell I’ll never be able to cast, Dom grumbled internally.

“I’ll just repeat it one more time for good measure… This is a player-run city,” Booker said, blowing out a lazy cloud of smoke.  “One of the few since the launch of the game, in fact.”  He grimaced as he saw someone’s hand shoot into the air.  “And before you ask, no, this is not an avatar city and has nothing to do with Jason.  Best we can tell, this place is located along the southwestern portion of the same continent, and the Twilight Throne is quite a ways away, so you have nothing to fear there.”

The hand slowly lowered.

Who the hell is Jason? Dom wondered.

Based on the relieved sighs by many of the players around him, he was guessing this Jason guy wasn’t exactly a friendly.  Maybe he should have read the wiki or watched some videos before putting on that headset.

“Right about now, you all should be getting a prompt,” Booker trailed off, taking another long pull on his cigarette as he saw most of the crowd suddenly stare off into space.  “And there it is.”

System Notice:  Aislen

You have spawned into Aislen – which will now be your starting city.  Your respawn point is bound to this courtyard, and you will return here when you die.

Aislen is also unique among many of the cities within this world.  It was formed overtop a wellspring of air mana, and that energy has infused both the town and the jungle that stretches out around it.  Enemies outside of town will be stronger and more resilient.  Inversely, this energy also affects travelers, greatly increasing their respawn time.  Any travelers that die within Aislen or the surrounding jungle will respawn within 20 minutes in-game time.

Good luck out there!

Dom’s brow furrowed.  Okay.  That prompt had been more clear.  Although, he wasn’t liking the fact that the creatures outside of town were apparently stronger than normal.  So much for a few cuddly rabbits.

As Booker observed many of the travelers swiping away their notices, he continued, “As you can see, your introduction to the game world will be a bit different than in other cities.  Normally, the NPCs – referred to as ‘residents’ in this world – greet new players – or ‘travelers’ – and provide a tutorial to help you acclimate, gear up, and train.  That tutorial is typically optional.  We will be doing something similar, with the caveat that you don’t have much of a choice.”

This was met with a few angry mutters, and Booker held up a hand.  “Look, I’m not saying this because I’m trying to tell you how to play.  You all read the prompt yourselves.  If anything, it understated the dangers of the jungle outside of town.  You’re all welcome to try your hand at leaving town.  But you’re guaranteed to die out there without any training or equipment.”

“Or even with it,” one of Booker’s teammates grunted, his comment not going unnoticed by the crowd.  The others beside him nodded along, their expressions bleak.

“How is that fair?  Isn’t this supposed to be a starting location?” a player – a traveler, Dom corrected himself – piped up.

Booker cocked his head.  “That’s a good question.  I know many of you are accustomed to playing online games.  You’re used to some handholding.  A linear path.  Some softball quests and farming to start.  Well, you can forget all of that bullshit here.  Best we can tell, Awaken Online is closer to the real world than it is to other games.  It’s harsh and unforgiving and horribly unbalanced.  Skills are provided dynamically.  Quests can be failed and many aren’t repeatable.

“But that also means you’re free to build your avatar as you please and become someone powerful, even fearsome.  If you want to survive here – to thrive here – then you’re going to need to forget what you think you know.”

A sudden quiet descended across the crowd of travelers as they mulled on that, some of their initial excitement blunted by Booker’s explanation.  Yet from Dom’s perspective, most weren’t put off by his explanation.  They seemed more curious than anything.

“But things aren’t quite as bleak as they might appear,” Booker continued.  “As I said, our guild <The Jackals> offers basic training in magics and arms and will provide a starter set of equipment for anyone who completes that training.”  He waved at the men and women around him, the image of “The Jackals” painted across their breastplates, embroidered into their robes, and draped down their cloaks.  That would undoubtedly make them easy to spot.

“So, you’re just giving away stuff for free then?  Out of the kindness of your hearts, huh?” a girl asked, skepticism lacing her voice.

Booker chuckled at that, unperturbed by her tone.  “Well, not quite.  That gear does cost the guild, and we expect travelers who complete our basic training to tackle quests for the city and assist our guild to repay that initial investment.  Those that perform well will be offered a permanent place within the guild – which comes with additional perks such as advanced training, access to more powerful equipment, and a spot in our better farming groups and raids.”

“We’re basically indentured servants then?”  That voice came from the back of the crowd.  And from the way a few others muttered angrily, his point clearly resonated with some people.

Booker cocked his head.  “I suppose?  In the sense that we’re offering you a service, and expect to be repaid.  But it’s not like we’re forcing your hand.  By all means, leave town and try to make it to another.  See how you fare.  I think the current record for a level 1 is…”  He glanced at one of his guildmates to confirm.

“Half a mile,” the woman beside him stated calmly.

“You heard her, about half a mile.  Although, I suppose someone could always break that record,” Booker offered dryly, eyeing the crowd.  “I’m not lying to you. And if you don’t believe me, well…” he gestured towards gate leading out of the courtyard..

A sudden silence hung across the crowd once more, even the more aggressive travelers looking less certain – less confident.

Watching the group, Booker decided to drive a final nail in that coffin.  “As I said before, to survive here, you need to shed this notion that this is just another game.  That you are entitled to some sort of safe and easy path or that you’re going to be able to solo, try-hard every quest and encounter.”  He waved at the courtyard around them.  “This shit right here is a living, breathing world.  Those that figure that out quickly – just like that Jason guy we’ve been hearing so much about – will reap the rewards.”

At those words, the angry murmurs fully died out, replaced by a quiet reflection in the eyes of many in the crowd.  This wasn’t what they were used to, clearly.  But what Booker had just described was also intriguing.  If this place was that brutal and unfair, it could be a pain in the ass.  But that also meant it worked the other way too, didn’t it?  It left room for the travelers to accomplish incredible things – to be more than just be another generic name and number.

“Alright, I can see I’ve finally struck a chord,” Booker offered with a chuckle that helped ease some of the tension.  “For now, we’re going to divide you into groups and assign you a guild instructor.  Of course, if you prefer to go it alone… there’s the door.”  As he finished speaking, the gate behind him creaked open, two burly men shoving at the wood.

Yet, no one moved to leave.

For his part, Dom just stood there, processing what he’d just heard.

Despite Booker’s promises, what he was describing was indeed indentured servitude.  Dom had heard enough gang and mobster bullshit growing up to know when someone was trying to sell him “protection.”  These other players would get a taste of what the guild had to offer, would learn to rely on that gear and training, and then it would be almost impossible to break away later, especially if the guild had already taken control of this city.  That meant they likely had a hand in everything from the top down.  Shops, taxes… whatever version of this world’s police looked like.  Anyone who left could be blackballed in an instant – unable to shop or move about normally.

That left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Hell, for all he knew, Booker could also be full of crap about the jungle.  That whole speech could have just been a scare tactic meant to help recruit unsuspecting travelers.

There was also the Gambler’s “quest.”  His instructions were clear.  And Dom wasn’t stupid enough to miss the coincidence here.  He just happened to drop into a city where it was almost impossible to leave… and that bitter casino owner had conveniently given him a quest to do just that?  The obvious answer was that the Gambler had known where Dom was going to start.

Even if it wasn’t clear “why” the man had urged him to leave town.

Not that it really mattered.  His quest sounded like a death sentence.

So, I’m screwed either way, Dom thought as he watched Booker’s gang start grouping up the travelers in the courtyard, slowly making their way toward him.

But if both choices sucked, Dom knew which one he preferred.

It wasn’t just that he’d lost a bet fair and square.  He also didn’t like the idea of someone else dictating what he could and couldn’t do with the time he had left.  Besides, Dom had already been given a death sentence – a real one – so what was one more?

“Hey, you can group up with this lot here,” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Dom’s eyes shot up to find Booker looking at him.  “Nah… Nah, I’m good,” he grunted.

Then Dom pivoted on his heel and headed for the gate.  He could feel the eyes of Booker, his guildmates, and the other travelers on his back – could hear the low buzz of their voices – but he didn’t turn around or hesitate.  He strode out of that gate, unarmed, unarmored, and utterly clueless as to what this world had in store for him next.

***

Booker watched the man walk out of the gate.  He was a big guy.  At least 230 pounds.  He’d observed the group as they spawned in, marking some prospects.  That guy had been on his list, primarily because of his physique.  That amount of muscle and the way he moved spoke of extensive physical training.  The travelers’ bodies always carried over, even if their starting stats didn’t exactly match their appearance.  But he’d been inside AO long enough to realize that real-world training translated quite well here.

He’d hadn’t lied to them about that.  This place was genuinely another world.

Although, that could also cut in the other direction.  There were always a few “tough guys” that entered the game thinking they were just going to tear shit up no matter what he said.  The jungle would disillusion him quickly.

“Shame,” Nova said from Booker’s shoulder, air mana still coiling around her staff.  “He’d have made a good foot soldier.”

Booker just shrugged.  “It’s not over yet.  After he gets a taste for what’s out there, he’ll come crawling back… just like they all do.”  And then he’d have more leverage when it came time to get him to sign a guild contract.

Nova sniffed.  “You’re too forgiving.”

He shot her a glance and a grin.  “Hey, I’m not above taking my own advice.  We need to treat this place like its own world, and our foothold here isn’t fully secure yet.  You saw the latest numbers.  About 20% of the travelers and 85% of residents are still unaffiliated with the guild.  Which means we need people, infrastructure.  And a few concessions here and there help grow our numbers and consolidate our power over Aislen.”

Booker shrugged.  “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, we can always cull the chaff.  At this point, what’re they going to be able to do about it?”

Nova’s eyes glimmered brightly, a smile sliding across her face as she turned back to the other recruits who’d been divided into smaller groups.  “Speaking of which, it looks like our newest crop is waiting.  You ready to start the harvest early?”

Booker chuckled.  “Tortured metaphor aside, yeah.  Let’s do it.”

Then the pair turned back to the new travelers.

He wondered how many would make the cut this time.

Chapter 5 - Mortal

There are a ton of people in Aislen, Dom thought to himself, leaning against a wall, his body covered in shadow as he watched a flood of humanity step past.

Booker’s speech had given him the impression that they’d started in a small outpost built in the middle of a hostile jungle.  And the high walls of that beginning courtyard hadn’t helped, obscuring the travelers’ view of Aislen.  Maybe that had been intentional.  A way to help bolster Booker’s pitch.  If the travelers had a better sense of the town’s scope and population, they might have been more inclined to walk away like Dom.

Because this wasn’t a town or a fort.  It was a damn city.

And while it might not be thriving, it was certainly surviving well enough.

Dom had spent nearly two hours walking slowly through Aislen.  His dad had often taken contracts with casinos in other cities.  There wasn’t ever enough work in just one place, which meant that they had traveled regularly.  And each time, they would do this – drive or walk around a new town or city and take in the sights and sounds.  Acclimate themselves to the food, the people, the attractions.  It had become a ritual – a bright spot amid other, less fond memories.

And Dom had done the same here.

He’d examined the ornate buildings, the bustling markets, the quaint shops.  The buildings had all suffered from the disrepair and wear of time, the worn wood beaten down and rotting.  Dom couldn’t help but wonder if that was voluntary.  During trips with his dad, he’d seen many small, ruined towns filled with vacant buildings and boarded-up windows.  All signs that spoke of a lack of supplies; an inability to repair and use those structures.

So, raw resources were rare here.  Precious even.

Not that this seemed to affect the local population.  Every area of the city was packed with bodies.  Even now, children ran barefoot down the street in front of Dom.  Whole families lived in towering homes and apartment buildings that stretched three, four, and sometimes five stories into the air.  Those must be the residents.  And yet there were thousands of them, the resident population far surpassing the number of travelers, at least from what Dom could tell.

And it wasn’t like the travelers were hard to pick out of a crowd – identified by their armor and the glowing nametags floating over their heads.  Even without those hints, their behavior would have given most of them away.  They were often loud and callous, gawking at their surroundings or browbeating stall merchants who refused to buy their crap.  Obnoxious tourists.

Dom had certainly seen that behavior before.

It also made them easy prey for the pickpockets he’d noticed filtering through the crowds.  Even as he looked on, still leaning against a nearby wall, he saw a small boy slice a traveler’s purse strings.  He lifted the bag with nimble fingers before blending back into the sea of humanity that trod down the worn cobblestone streets.  And the traveler seemed none the wiser.

These people had learned to survive – by whatever means necessary.

Which was true of many things Dom witnessed as he walked the streets of Aislen.  From the conversations he overheard and how they spoke about the jungle, it was clear the residents didn’t really leave the city and were terrified of what lay outside its walls.  Although, that had raised some questions for Dom.  Like how did they eat?

He’d discovered the answer on the western edge of Aislen, the city abruptly ending in a sheer cliff face that speared straight down to a rolling, rocky coastline.  From that vantage point, Dom could see that the city had been built atop a flat-topped mountain along the coast – the ruins of what might have once been a dock lingering far below, water crashing against the few remaining planks.  Either the residents didn’t have the means to rebuild those docks, or there was another good reason they hadn’t tried.

Either way, it seemed leaving by sea was out.

Wooden docks now stretched out from the cliff face, bustling with activity and shouts filling the air – all eyes stretching upward.  And as Dom had followed their gaze, his mouth dropped open in surprised wonder.  Schools of fish swam through the sky on glittering, scaled wings, their bodies reflecting a dazzling array of colors as they danced, spun, and twirled through – creating a dazzling, kaleidoscopic rainbow.

The residents on the dock extended huge nets with the help of what Dom could only assume were air mages, amber energy twining around staves and wands and wind whipping across the wooden planks – the fishermen secured with ropes tied to their waists.  The nets were baited, and when the schools of fish flew down to snatch at it, the nets would snap tight as the fishermen pulled them back down with the help of thick ropes.

Within the city, he’d seen more than a few farms.  Without the ability to stretch outward, the residents had built upward.  They created elevated hydroponic beds filled with all manner of exotic fruits and vegetables – species Dom had never seen before.  And judging from the heavy humidity in the air, they certainly didn’t want for rainwater.  Barrels lined most roofs and filtered down into the buildings using crude plumbing.

So, the people here had adapted.  That much was clear.  And it certainly cut against Booker’s little speech back in the courtyard.  If this was a living world, then clearly, it was possible to survive within Aislen without <The Jackals’> help.

Yet, there was little else Dom could learn right now.

At least, not by staying inside Aislen.

“Well, looks like I need to get on with it then,” Dom muttered to himself.

He pushed off the wall and dove back into the flowing mass of humanity, heading due east along the city’s main street.  His feet eventually took him to a towering gate, the only exit from Aislen that Dom had found.  The gate was made of dense, aging wood – likely harvested from the surrounding jungle – stretching fifteen feet into the air.  Ramparts had been constructed along the wall above them, guards wearing familiar white livery pacing their length.  More were stationed along the base of a wall at a wooden outpost.

Dom lingered there a moment, watching the gate.  Large groups of travelers were exiting the city – almost exclusively dressed in the livery of <The Jackals> – the same white pattern embroidered onto the guards’ cloaks.  Yet few seemed to return.  And the behavior between those leaving and those stationed at the gate was odd.  As Dom watched, he realized that the guards were residents – no tags lingering over their heads.

So, either the residents were too scared to leave – since they likely couldn’t respawn.  Or the guild had given them the shit work while they kept the glory.  Or perhaps the answer was a mix of both.  Either way, that gave Dom a possible opening.

He approached the gate, and the two guards stationed there glanced at him, noting his plain novice attire and lack of weapons.  One of the men raised a hand.  “Hey there, traveler.  You lost?”

Honey catches more flies than vinegar, his dad always said.

So, Dom offered a hand – even if he couldn’t quite manage a smile.  “Not quite.  My name’s Dom, pleasure to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for the man’s name.

The guard eyed him in surprise.  Given what Dom had seen with the other travelers, he doubted many ever stopped to introduce themselves to the residents.  However, he’d taken some of Booker’s guidance to heart.

The man eventually took Dom’s hand.  “Chin, and this here’s Feng,” he offered, nodding in the direction of the other guard.  “You seem awful polite for a traveler.”

Dom just shrugged.  “All I see are two men who look a bit bored… and hot,” he offered, noting the sweat dripping down Feng’s forehead.

“That’s because these cloaks are sweltering,” Feng grumbled, tugging at the garment in irritation.  “But at least we’re a matching pair of idiots!” Chin shot him a glare but held his tongue.

“I’ll bet.  Doesn’t seem practical in this humidity.  But to answer your question, I’m not lost – not exactly,” Dom continued.  “Although, I’m definitely new to Aislen.”  He eyed the guild markings on their cloaks.  “I didn’t realize <The Jackals> hired residents to help defend the city.”

Chin cocked his head.  “It’s not bad work.  They pay well.”

Feng just snorted.  “Guess that’s true.  But ‘defending’ might be a stretch.  We’re just here for the sake of appearances – basically pointless to defend this ‘gate,’” he ground out, jerking his thumb behind him.

“Why’s that?” Dom asked.

The two men gave each other a knowing look.  “See for yourself,” Chin offered, stepping through the gate with Dom and Feng in tow.

Only for Dom to slow in surprise.  Just outside the gate, a steep cliff plunged downward, revealing a dense, green jungle far below.  A series of rope bridges had been constructed along the cliff face, stretching out across a windy void to another series of mountainous islands before disappearing amid dense vegetation on the other side.  From this distance, Dom could already make out paths carved in the side of those nearby mountains, trails that ringed the stone and stretched down toward the valleys that wound between them.

“Well, damn.  I see your point,” Dom grunted.

Feng just smiled at his reaction.  “Right?  Even if anything tried to attack this place, they’d have to do it in a single file line.”

“Or we just cut the ropes and watch ‘em fall,” Chin spoke up, grudgingly agreeing with his companion, occasionally glancing over his shoulder nervously to see if anyone had noticed the trio talking.  Yet, no one paid them any mind.

“Wouldn’t that make it hard to repair the bridges?” Dom asked in confusion.

“Not really,” Chin explained.  “Plenty of air mages that can make the hop to the other islands.  Day or two’s work at most.”

“Huh, so why does the guild have you two standing here?”

“Like I said, it’s all for appearances.  We’re glorified ‘gate butlers’ for the travelers,” Feng muttered, eyeing the groups that walked past.  Dom noted they were all taking the same bridge.

Chin just sighed at his partner’s bitching.  “We’re also supposed to turn away new travelers,” he explained, turning back to Dom.  “Why we stopped you, actually.  Although, you didn’t get all heated and throw a fit like the last guy.”

“Wish we could just throw ‘em off a bridge.  Not like they really die…” Feng muttered.

This earned him another glare from Chin.

Meanwhile, Dom ran a hand across his hair.  So much for the travelers being free to leave.  This sounded like another gimmick under the guise of “protecting” the noobs.  It also seemed <The Jackals’> influence ran deeper than he’d suspected.  Although, at this point, he wasn’t going to be deterred.  It wasn’t even about the bet anymore.  He just wanted to see this jungle for himself – if only to prove Booker wrong.

He turned back to the guards.  “Well, I was hoping to cross to one of those islands.”  He raised a hand to ward off their objections.  “I know, I know.  It’s dangerous out there.  Booker explained that himself.”

“We’re really not supposed to let—” Chin began.

“And you didn’t,” Dom interjected.  “See, it was the craziest thing.  This traveler just ran past you – straight out into the forest.  Guy must have had a death wish.”

He waited, watching Chin.  Chin watching him.

“You sure about this?” the guard asked.

Dom shrugged.  “Like Feng said, what’s the worst that happens?”

“He’s not wrong,” Feng grunted.

“Then we didn’t see anything,” Chin offered, sighing softly.  “Consider this a token of appreciation for actually asking us our names instead of treating us like talking signposts.”

“Anytime,” Dom shot back with a grin, grabbing the man’s hand.

With that, he pivoted on his heel and turned back to the cliff’s edge, selecting one of the bridges less traveled.  A few of the other travelers actually shot a glance in his direction as he stepped out onto the swaying bridge – muttering to themselves and shaking their heads as if his death was a foregone conclusion.

Jokes on them, Dom thought bitterly.  He just pressed forward, refusing to look down as he made his way slowly across the chasm, the guards at his back shrinking from view.

Now, let’s see if Booker was full of shit.

His next step landed awkwardly, the board snapping – the wood brittle and rotten.  Dom listed forward, catching himself on the ropes, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of the valley far below, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest.  It suddenly felt like a vice was clenching around his chest, the image of that claustrophobic white room returning yet again.

However, Dom forced himself to breathe.  It’s not real.  It’s not real.  It’s not…

He repeated that like a mantra, even as he forced his feet to move.

Meanwhile, Feng and Chin watched the polite traveler walk off to his death, frowns plastered on their faces.  “I know he can’t really die… but this still feels wrong.  He isn’t even armed.  It’s like sending a babe out into the woods,” Chin muttered.

Feng just shook his head.  “No accounting for crazy.  Honestly, I give him five minutes.”

***

It didn’t take Dom long to make it to the other side of the bridge, and he breathed a small sigh of relief as he stepped back onto solid ground.  Despite his nonchalance with the guards, he had to shake out his hands, his white-knuckle grip on the ropes leaving them aching.  And as he eyed the dense trees that loomed before him and thick ferns that sprouted from the ground, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was being an idiot.

Or maybe just obstinate.  He’d never much cared for being told he couldn’t do something.

Like live.  Just a random example that came to mind…

Dom ground his teeth and put one foot in front of the other, heading toward a narrow deer trail that cut a path through the dense vegetation.  As he stepped on the trail, a prompt appeared in the air before him, glowing with that same blue light.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+8.1).

Now might be a good time to visit a race track… just sayin’.

What the hell does that mean?” Dom wondered.  He also noted the same number was shown in the corner of his UI – just below his health.  And with each step he took, the multiplier just continued to increase.  But without any context, it was meaningless.

So, he just shook his head and kept moving.

Several minutes later, Dom had plunged deep into the jungle, the path winding among the trees.  They towered overhead, stretching at least a couple hundred feet into the air and creating a patchwork layer of branches.  The effect plunged the area into a shadowy gloom, almost entirely blotting out the sunlight.  With the tree cover, the humidity was also more noticeable here, the wind blunted by the thick vegetation.  Sweat now beaded on Dom’s skin and dripped down his back, staining his tunic.

At first, every scratch from the underbrush or chirp from a nearby branch had him flinching, his muscles twitching reflexively.  Yet as he kept marching forward without anything horrible happening, Dom slowly began to relax.  He stopped to admire the plant life, thick ferns, ropelike vines, and all manner of flowers.  He even picked up a cool rock he found, the usual dark gray replaced with a ruddy blue appearance.

Nothing jumped out at him or tore him limb from limb.  There were no killer mosquitos.  The plants didn’t try to attack him.  No panthers lounged on shadowy branches.  If anything, the forest that surrounded Aislen was enchanting.  Dotted with vivid, colorful flowers.  Hummingbirds that darted from tree to tree, collecting nectar.  Brightly-plumed birds whose songs echoed out through the forest and their wings occasionally fluttering from branch to branch.

Eventually, Dom arrived at the other side of the small island.  The path had branched behind him, one path leading down into the valleys carved by these strangely shaped mountains, but he’d wanted to get a better view of his surroundings than the one from the back wall of Aislen.  The tree cover eventually gave way to a steep cliff of rough stone and an unimpeded view of the area east of the city.

He sat at the base of a nearby tree and took in the glory that stretched out before him.  Dozens of circular islands extended out toward the horizon, gray rock cliffs coated in thick green.  Valleys wound between them, rivers twisting through the dense jungle, shining sapphire bands that reflected the bright sunlight that shone overhead.  Then Dom’s eyes caught a flash of color, and his brow furrowed.

More of those fish floated through the sky in massive schools – many that far surpassed what he’d seen back in Aislen.  Each one stretched for nearly a mile.  Their scales gleamed and shone, reflecting a rainbow of colors.  They danced and spun and spiraled, rippling up out of the rivers, spearing up into the air before returning to a different tributary.  Almost like they were migrating.  It was mesmerizing.

“Maybe Booker was just wrong,” Dom said softly.

This place was hardly the hellhole he’d described.  In fact, it was beautiful.

Dom suddenly heard the crack of wood snapping just overhead.  He tried to turn, to twist and look above him, but it was far, far too late.

Something long and large shot downward in a blur of motion, Dom only barely managing to raise his arms to protect his face before it wrapped around him tightly.  He tried to strain against the creature, but his arms felt strangely weak, barely budging against the creature as it slithered the rest of its body into place, quickly locking his legs together before Dom could regain his feet.  Within only seconds, he was trapped.

“Oh shit,” he grunted, sudden terror filling his chest as he realized he couldn’t move.

In his desperation, Dom shoved hard against the ropelike flesh, giving it his all.  The creature’s body stretched away from his torso and afforded him a few inches of space, just enough for Dom to finally see what was attacking him.  A snake.  Its body was easily two dozen feet long, its tail disappearing into the branches above.  And a head that loomed just in front of him, two serpentine eyes gleaming above a set of fangs dripping with bright, pink venom.

That moment lasted only an instant before the snake’s head snapped forward, and those fangs plunged into Dom’s neck.  He felt searing pain.  Then it spread through his veins like molten lead.  And even more disconcerting was the tingling numbness that burning sensation left in its wake.  Within seconds, Dom couldn’t move his right arm, quickly followed by his left.

His thoughts were raging as the snake’s body tightened around him, squeezing and compressing.  As his fear mixed with the pain, panic filled his mind, and the fear and drove away any rational thought.  He could hear his breath coming short and fast.  Then he heard something in his shoulder crack, yet it only felt numb.  He was trapped.  He couldn’t move.  He couldn’t do anything – just look on as the snake’s body uncoiled slightly.

And once more, its head loomed before him, jaw unhinging and growing larger and larger.

In that instant, he could only think of that damned, white room.  Of the two glowing blue screens and a similar pair of cold, indifferent eyes.  Of the same oppressive, heavy panic that had filled him then.  The same helpless feeling…

I’m going… I’m going to die.

That was the last coherent thought that echoed through Dom’s shattered mind before the snake’s head plunged forward.  Then there was only darkness and pain and terror that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, broken finally – mercifully – by a lone, glowing blue notice.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

Chapter 6 - Wager

The world abruptly popped back into motion, and Dom slammed into something smooth and hard.  Again.  He collapsed onto his hands and knees as phantom fire rippled through his body, almost like his skin was burning.  His breath came in shallow, fast gasps, and his eyes were wide and wild.  He’d just died.  Felt that paralytic venom seep through his veins.  The jerk and crack of muscle and bone compressing and snapping.  Then that creature had fucking eaten him, its yawning dark mouth still burned into his retinas, returning each time he blinked.

And even worse?  The panic coiling in his stomach – that fear that consumed his every conscious thought.  He couldn’t run.  Couldn’t fight back.  It was that same cloying, sweltering claustrophobia he’d felt in that tiny, white room.  That feeling of being trapped.  Strapped into a rollercoaster hurtling toward broken tracks.  The inevitable futility of it.

Dom’s heart was racing, thudding through his body, his hands trembling.  Red notifications were flashing in the corner of his vision, but he couldn’t focus on them.  They were blurry.  Indistinct.  It felt like he was hyperventilating, and there was a sharp pain in his ribcage.

Dom grabbed at his chest, frantically trying to will himself to calm down, his heart to slow its thunderous pounding.  His mind struggled to center on something – anything – other than the memory of his death.  The fact that he was here.  That he could feel something cold and hard below him.  That meant he was still alive.  That meant he hadn’t died – not really.

It’s a game.  All a game.

You’re okay.  You’re okay.  You’re…

He kept repeating that like a mantra, and his breathing gradually slowed.

In the wake of that panic and terror, a new sensation crept over him…

Dom knelt there, staring down at cold, dirty marble.  The truth was that he hadn’t died.  Not really.  But that entire experience had felt real.  He punched at the marble, a dull ache radiating out from his knuckles.  He could feel that.  That pain was a blessed reminder that he was still here.

All of that fear and despair and panic had been circling through his mind for days now – not just those handful of minutes.  Getting eaten alive had just opened the floodgates.  Vented the pressure that had been building, building, building until it threatened to drown him.  And in the wake of all that shit, Dom suddenly felt lighter.  The phantom burns faded, his heartbeat began to slow.  He punched at the marble again, the cheap tile cracking slightly.  And Dom reveled in that pain.  More proof that he was fucking alive.

A laugh bubbled up out of his chest then.  Too enthusiastic, bordering on manic.  A mixture of dopamine and adrenaline flooding his system, Dom realized belatedly.  But he couldn’t focus on that – not right now. Instead, there was only that overwhelming sense of relief.  Exhilaration.  An elated joy he’d never truly experienced before.

He’d faced down his death.  Plunged into that abyss…

Yet he was still here.  Still ALIVE.

Dom punched the tile again, tears raining down onto the marble tiles.

“I would really appreciate it if you could try not to destroy my establishment.”  That voice was familiar, tinged with irritation.  “I just had the floors waxed.”

Dom’s gaze shot up, blinking away the tears in his eyes.  The Gambler sat at a nearby table, the backdrop of the Luckless Mark arrayed behind him, the twinkling lights of the machines accompanied by the buzz and chatter of his patrons.  His eyes were on Dom, casually inspecting his haggard appearance – the manic look in his eyes and his wet cheeks.

“Dying is always an interesting experience,” the Gambler commented, his gaze drifting out across the casino.  “People try to simulate it.  Skydiving.  Straddling a few hundred horsepower and barreling down the road with death looming all around you.  People say it’s the dopamine.  The adrenaline.  A chemical reaction.  A mundane high.”

Dom staggered to his feet, the movement costing him.  But he managed to slump onto a stool across from the Gambler, his thoughts still raging.  Oscar stepped over to him gingerly, patting Dom’s hand with one tiny paw.

“But that’s just a side effect, not the cause.  It ain’t the drugs,” the Gambler continued.  “It’s that it reminds them that they’re alive.  It’s all about the contrast.”

“Are you saying they forget?” Dom managed, his voice hoarse.

The Gambler side-eyed him, arching an eyebrow.  “Didn’t you?

Dom didn’t have a good response for that.  Maybe he had.

“It’s easy to become accustomed to something, anything really.  Food, pleasure, drugs, sex, music… you name it.  You do anything enough, and the sensation fades to a shadow of its former glory.  It flatlines,” he added with a morbid chuckle at his own joke.

The Gambler glanced at Dom again.  “So, are you really surprised that we get used to being alive?  We do it all the time, don’t we?”

The man raised a finger.  “But you can fix that problem – you can make those sensations just as powerful as they were the first time.  You just need to create contrast.  You smell something else.  Listen to something else.  Eat something else. Fuck someone else?” the Gambler offered with a sly grin.

He shook his head.  “But with living… man, there’s only one choice.

“You need to brush up against death.”

Dom just stared at the Gambler, his mind and body gradually beginning to settle.  In the wake of his terror and that overwhelming, elated sense of relief, he could acknowledge there was some truth to what the man was saying.  He didn’t look forward to the idea of dying again.  Frankly, it terrified him.  But if he could experience that euphoria again.  That ridiculous, obvious epiphany.  That appreciation of the blood pumping through his veins, the rise and fall of his chest – even the pain, and heartache, and suffering…

Well, maybe it was worth it.

“Anyway, if you’re done having your little moment or whatever,” the Gambler spoke up, interrupting Dom’s thoughts, “the show is about to begin.”  He waved at the other side of the casino where a few dozen patrons had gathered.

“What show—?”

Dom was cut off as a screen flared to life nearby, the display stretching through the air.  A crowd lingered nearby, letting out a cheer, clinking down cups full of chips, and raising a colorful array of alcoholic beverages.  His brow furrowed as he took in this scene, noting a glowing yellow board beside the screen that seemed to be tracking bets and odds.  What was even more strange is that it looked like they had been betting on times, each option highlighted in hours, minutes, and seconds.

The screen rippled, then flashed into motion, showing a long rope bridge, a lone man walking across – his dark skin wrapped in plain, beige cloth.  Dom’s mouth slowly dropped open as he realized he was watching himself.  A board cracked, and Dom tilted forward on that bridge… only to catch himself just in time.  A few patrons let out a loud groan while others shouted happily at the screen.  One of the times on the board crossed itself off with a line of amber energy.

The video feed kept playing.  Dom’s first steps onto that island.  The way he’d started down that thin deer trail.  But this was different, like he was watching the reality TV version of what he’d just experienced, the camera panned back to provide more perspective.

This wasn’t how he remembered his little hike.

On screen, Dom approached a log, climbing over its surface and straining to squeeze between two branches.  His tunic had caught for a moment.  He remembered that.  What he didn’t recall were the finger-length insects that hopped across the wood in a small army – almost like deadly, over-sized grasshoppers – their pincers slicing at the air and effortlessly carving thin lines into the wood.  Just before the legion of insects reached Dom, he managed to tug himself free.  The fabric ripped, just narrowly avoiding the dozen or so bugs that shot past him.

The crowd let out a shout, and another line was crossed off the betting board – this one marked for sixty seconds.  A few angry mutters from the crowd indicating that some of the patrons weren’t too happy.  Almost like they were betting on—

“Wait, are they betting on how long I live?” Dom asked, whirling toward the Gambler.

He let out a low chuckle.  “You caught on fast, huh?”

Dom shook his head.  “But I don’t remember any of this.”

“You mean you didn’t notice any of this,” the Gambler shot back, waving at the screen.  Dom had stooped to inspect a glowing rock, just barely avoiding being decapitated by what appeared to be a moving plant with razor-like vines.  Although, the Dom onscreen was oblivious, just rubbing at some of the sap that had dripped onto his neck as he continued onward.

“You were pretty lucky,” the Gambler continued, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.  “By my count, you almost died nearly two dozen times.”

“Not sure I’d call that luck,” Dom muttered, watching a flower he’d just sniffed spray a sickly yellow solution.  It was eating into the bark of a nearby tree like acid.  “I mean, I still died.”

“Sure, but you lasted a whole 30 minutes,” the Gambler shot back.  “That was longer than most people expected.”  These words were punctuated by more groans as Dom apparently avoided dying again… because he’d tripped.

“See there,” the Gambler murmured.  “That was luck again.  A function of my little present – but no, no don’t rush to thank me or anything.”

Dom frowned at the man.  “Says the guy who deliberately started me in that hellhole?”

“Caught that, did you?” the Gambler shot back with a small smile.  “But what fun would there be in starting you somewhere easy?  Watch you flail at some hapless rabbits.  Nah, this is much, much more fun—” His words were drowned out by another roar from the crowd.

Dom just grunted in irritation.  But as he watched the video, he had to admit the Gambler was right, he’d avoided dying far too many times for it to be a coincidence.  And he could still recall the prompt for his “Chaotic Blessing,” and the explanation of his luck multiplier…

“So that skill you gave me,” Dom began slowly, “I think I get it now.  It increases my luck when I’m in danger, and the multiplier scales to the risk.”  He paused again.  “Which I assume means that if the area outside Aislen had been filled with cows or something—”

“You’d likely have accidentally killed yourself in the first 30 seconds.  Or something unfortunate might have happened.  Maybe a predator might have shown up – one that had a fondness for cows,” the Gambler finished for him, that smile on his lips only widening.  “Neat trick, huh?  A guarantee that things will always be interesting.  You’ll always have a shot against something incredibly dangerous and a hard time if you weight the odds in your favor.”

“I guess,” Dom muttered, his eyes returning to the screen.

Although, he had to admit it was effective.  Dom could see that they had nearly passed all of the bets that had been placed.  Not many people had expected him to live longer than about twenty minutes – much less thirty.  He wasn’t even sure whether to be insulted or not.  Watching the many, many ways he’d nearly been poisoned, ripped apart, or eaten, he was starting to think Booker had actually downplayed just how dangerous the jungle was.

Eventually, a familiar scene flashed across the screen, a snake slithering down from the branches above Dom as he took in the sight of the flying school of fish.

“How is this shit fair?” Dom asked, his brow creased again.  “This was just the first island outside of town.  And new players start here?”

The Gambler just shot him a mocking grin.  “Fair?  Who said anything about fair?”  He held Dom’s gaze, his expression sobering.  “In your experience, is life ever fair?  Does anyone have control over where they’re born?  Their parents?  The color of their skin?  Of course not.  They’re all just dice rolls.  Chance and probability.  The cards we’re dealt.”

He shook his head.  “What’s even more frustrating is that amid all that chaos and uncertainty, there are still “opportunities.”  People often just don’t see them – or refuse to.  Or they fail to take advantage.”  He waved at the screen.  “Look at you, for example.  You heard the leaves rustle.  That branch snap.  You had plenty of warning.  You had an opportunity to escape.

“But did you take it?”

Dom cocked his head, rubbing at his neck.  The crowd groaned as he was swallowed whole by that serpent, one lone man letting out a cheer of victory.  Yet again, the Gambler wasn’t wrong – even if he was an asshole.  And the answer to his question was clearly “no.”  But more than that, Dom hadn’t even noticed those small things as opportunities.  He’d hadn’t been paying attention.

“Exactly,” the Gambler grunted.  Dom glanced at him in surprise – had he been reading his mind?  “That look says it all,” the man continued.

The surly man turned his gaze back to the crowd – disappointed patrons shuffling back into the depths of the casino, already looking for new ways to waste their money.  “I’ve been doing this job for a long time.  I’ve watched many lives grace my modest establishment.  And I’ve noticed something.  They’re all oblivious.  Content to gamble away their time and money – which are really just the same thing when you get down to it.  Their lives quantified and measured and traded for coin.”  The gambler’s fingers blurred, and a chip appeared in his hand, dancing across his knuckles idly.

“As I said before, they’re all looking for something here.  But the strangest part?  They don’t seem to notice what it costs them.  The opportunities they’re missing.  That time they can’t get back.  They never ask for the exchange rate – barely stop to consider it.

“Because they’re asleep.  They’ve forgotten they’re living.”

Those words resonated with Dom.  He sure as hell didn’t have much time left.  And what had he done with it?  Sulked in his room?  Retreated from his teammates?  Lied to his father?  Skipped his classes?  A dozen missed opportunities.

And yet, it all still felt… futile?

With so little time left, what was the point of any of it?

“Some of us have less time than others,” Dom murmured, his eyes on that screen.  “Those with decades to spare can afford to be oblivious.  And those with little time left may feel… may feel like none of it matters.”

The Gambler snorted out a laugh, and Dom glanced at him in surprise.  “Yeah, that’s a common falsehood we like to tell ourselves.  A pretty little lie we use to hold back the fear.  Except your life has always been and always will be a perishable good.  It’s going to expire.

“Minutes, hours, days, months, years.  It doesn’t matter.  Eventually, everyone dies.  The house always wins.  But how the hell does that change the value of right now?” the Gambler asked, thumping the table with his finger.

That strange man turned back to Dom again, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the casino.  “What choice are you going to make, Dom?  Are you going to embrace that pretty little lie?  Sleep with your eyes open like all of these other zombies?” he asked, waving at the patrons sitting at the tables and playing the machines nearby.

He leaned forward.  “Or are you going to use this death as an opportunity to wake the hell up?  Are you going to hit or fold?”

Dom swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

The Gambler leaned back, setting down the chip on the table, resting it on its edge and flicking it hard, sending it spinning in a blur of motion.  “Anyway, I have some work to do.  I can already see some middle-aged ladies fighting in Section 3,” he grunted.  “As I said, life ain’t fair.  We play the cards we’re dealt…”

With that, the Gambler stood and walked away, leaving Dom staring at the coin on the table as its spin gradually began to slow.  Oscar still stood beside him, his head rotating as he followed the coin until he wobbled on dizzy legs and toppled to the side.  The coin soon came to a stop with the edge facing Dom, both faces visible – one smiling and one crying.

And as Dom stared at those images, the Gambler’s words kept repeating in his head.  This whole encounter – these conversations – they seemed to strike too close to home.  With how he’d grown up…  With the burden he now faced…

Yet there was a truth underlying the Gambler’s jaded bullshit.

The strange catharsis that Dom had felt in the wake of his brutal death.  The way, even now, he felt more… alive.  Like it had cut through the haze of depression.  Every flicker of the slots was brighter.  Every chime louder.  The colors sharper.  He could feel the weight and heft of his limbs, the rise and fall of his chest.  And he suddenly realized why.  That death had forced him to face the truth – the same one the Gambler had just posed to him.

His life had value – duration be damned.  Every moment was an opportunity.

That coin still sat on the table.  Another choice.

Are you going to hit or fold?

Then Dom snatched at that coin, gripping it firmly in his palm.

For now, he would play.  He’d continue to chase that feeling… even if it was only for a while longer.

He’d try to remember what it felt like to be alive.

Chapter 7 - Cathartic

When Dom spawned back into the game world, he was already anticipating the inevitable faceplant, shifting his weight and bringing his arms up only for his feet to strike the ground.  Off-balance, he toppled forward, landing on his knees with a dull thud.  Pain radiated up through his thighs and into his hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing at his knees.

Dom was beginning to suspect that the game was messing with him.  Judging from the people milling around him, other players didn’t seem to have the same issue.  They spawned back in with a flash of multi-colored light, landing firmly on their feet.  Even the noobs didn’t seem to have much trouble as they flashed into the game world.  And neither did the more experienced travelers – their levels announced by the quality of their gear.  They remained calm and standing.

Admittedly, the newer players who’d just died had a rougher time of it.  They often sank to their knees, cradling arms and throats and stomachs, tears streaming down their cheeks as they muttered to themselves.  But that was a choice…  They didn’t land on their face.

As if to drive this point home, a group of brand-new travelers stood nearby – more occasionally popping into the game world as they logged in.  Many gestured at Dom or spoke to each other in hushed voices, making little effort to hide their amusement as they watched him stumble his way back into Aislen.  Not that he paid them much mind.  He could see Booker’s replacement lounging beneath the gate, likely preparing to pitch these noobs on becoming <The Jackals’> little bitches… ehem, “new recruits.”

To their credit, perhaps they were right to laugh at him.

Booker had told the truth.  The jungle was a deathtrap.  And perhaps Dom was an idiot for trying to go it alone out in the green hell that lingered around Aislen.  Maybe he should put aside his pride and join them.  Enlist with the guild.  Work his way up through the ranks until he had the means to survive out in the jungle.

That would certainly be the safer option.  The smoother option.

However, after his death and that “stimulating” conversation with the Gambler, Dom had another goal in mind.  And he wasn’t about to cave to Booker’s bullshit, even if the man had been truthful about the dangers the jungle posed.  So, taking a breath, Dom shoved himself upright, only to find a blue notice flickering before him.

Quest Update:  Hard-Knock Life

You encountered your first monster outside of Aislen!  And it’s none other than a Dire Python!  Unfortunately for you, dying doesn’t really get you out of your obligation.  You have to kill that damn snake to complete this quest and honor your bet – no matter how many tries it takes.

Difficulty:  S

Success:  Kill the Dire Python.

Failure:  Chicken out like a little *&#%$.

Reward:  Unknown.

Dom raised an eyebrow at the prompt.  He already hold up his end of the bet.  Or at least try.  But it seemed the game world wanted to make sure he remembered.  Not that he really stood a chance against that serpent.  Even with Chaotic Blessing, it still seemed impossible.

His luck hadn’t stopped the python, after all.  So, it wasn’t going to be some sort of magic cure-all for every problem he encountered.  It only offered him an edge.  Dom was still going to have to put in the work.  And likely a LOT of work if that little replay of his hike was any indication.  Yet, he didn’t mind that.

Dom could still vividly remember how he’d died.  And as terrible as that experience had been, the aftermath was worth it.  Even now, he could still feel the echoes of the catharsis that had washed over him when he realized he’d merely respawned.  In that single moment, he hadn’t felt any pain, or fear, or despair.  He was alive, his nerve endings on fire – his skin tingling and each breath a treasure.

He wanted to experience that sensation again, as many times as he could.

So, Dom clenched his fists, ignored the stares and mutters of the nearby travelers and the calls of the <The Jackals> recruiter, and started off at a jog toward the city gates.

Toward his own death.

And yet, he couldn’t help but smile.

***

“I’m starting to think something might be wrong with this guy,” Feng muttered to Chin where the pair lounged against the wall beside the gate.  “Does he ever sleep or eat?  He’s been at this for days now.”

His companion just grunted noncommittally.  The pair were watching a familiar figure come jogging down the cobblestone road, passing by them with a nod and a smile before hopping onto one of the rope bridges – no longer clutching at the ropes but making a steady pace along the swaying structure, the boards creaking with each footfall.

“How many times does this make it now?” Chin asked.

Feng looked at the marks etched into the stone beside him, hidden behind a stack of rainwater barrels.  It was possible a member of <The Jackals> might come and check on them, and he didn’t want to be dressed down by some “high and mighty” traveler.  They often only needed a flimsy excuse to try to exert their authority over the residents.  But it wasn’t like the pair had much to do stationed here at the gate anyway.  Nod at travelers who largely ignored them?

So, they’d begun counting Dom’s deaths.  More than 100 thin lines had been scratched into the wood, and next to the others, Feng added another small mark.

“A lot,” Feng finally replied, sliding back into place beside Feng.  A long pause followed.  “You remember the first time he tried to take the bridge at a run?”

“Yeah… he fell right off,” Chin replied with a wince.

“Screamed the whole way down,” Feng said, chuckling softly.

“You shouldn’t laugh about that.”

“Why not?  Didn’t seem to faze him.  He just ran across again the next time.  Swear to the gods he actually ran faster,” he said with a shake of his head.

Chin rubbed at his neck.  “Just feels wrong.  How those other travelers stood around and pointed and laughed as he was hanging from the planks.  No one even tried to help him…” he trailed off, shuddering slightly.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights now?” Feng shot back with an arched eyebrow.

“Don’t know about that.  More afraid of the travelers.  If they’re that indifferent to their own, then what are we to them?  Little more than bugs?” Chin grunted, glaring at another group that was leaving town, loaded down with weapons and armor, and bearing the familiar mark of the <The Jackals> guild.  They barely spared the two guards a glance.

“Looks like you’re not far off the mark,” Feng muttered in reply.

The pair lapsed into silence, both staring grimly at the line of people making their way out of Aislen.  But both of their thoughts were on Dom, a single question echoing through their thoughts and overshadowing their work.

How long would he last this time?

***

Dom was breathing hard, his legs pumping as they carried him down the narrow trail, the layout of the path now firmly – and painfully – etched into his memory.  He jumped over a familiar log, kicking off the wood hard before immediately stooping.

Buzz.  Buzz.  Buzz.

He could feel displaced air as insects shot above his head and tore into the leaves and bark of the nearby trees, sending a flurry of debris dusting up into the air.  On his first try, he’d accidentally avoided what he was now calling “deathhoppers.”  They’d caught him on attempt #3.  And #4.  As well as the next two dozen tries or so.

Apparently, they could launch themselves forward with a burst of air, making them fast and nimble.  And while they might only be an inch long, those little blades could cut through solid stone.  Believe it or not, his thin tunic hadn’t offered much protection.

Those deaths had been particularly gruesome – a cluster of dozens of sadistic grasshoppers carving open his arms, his legs, his stomach, and his entrails slopping out onto the jungle floor, still steaming.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+3.7).

You might find some spare change lying around, but don’t go crazy.

Dom shook his head, swiping aside the notice.  He didn’t have time to think about dying right now.  Or his luck multiplier.  Even with the odds in his favor, practically every living thing in the jungle could kill him.  Technically even the bridge had killed him once, so maybe inanimate objects were dangerous too.  Either way, just one second of hesitation – of distraction – meant death out here, luck be damned.

He pushed forward, racing down the trail.  Next up were those damn vines.  They seemed to be attracted to either heat or movement – at least based on his last few dozen practice runs.  He’d died to them nearly every time, those crawling green tendrils snagging at his limbs before wrapping around his neck and squeezing the life from him.  And that was if he was lucky.  One time, he’d still been alive when they pulled him back up into the canopy, and he’d gotten a real good glimpse of what those vines were attached to…

Let’s just say a plant shouldn’t have that many teeth.  Or teeth at all.

But he was going to test his theory on this try.  He snatched a rock from the ground, slowing only slightly, before hurling it in the direction of the vines.  They immediately whipped forward, snatching at the stone before tangling together in a chaotic clump that shifted and heaved as they tried to untangle themselves, buying Dom just a few seconds.

He darted past, his breath ragged now.

In the corner of his UI, his stamina was waning.

This was the farthest he’d made it, the edge of a familiar clearing appearing just up—

Something large and dark dropped down from the treetops, barreling straight for him.  A rock came hurtling from behind Dom and struck the creature, sending it listing to the side and barely missing Dom.  He hit the ground hard, rolling and glancing back.  The vines had untangled themselves, inadvertently launching his rock at whatever had just attacked him.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+9.7).

It looks like you’re having a rockin’ good time!

Dom growled, swiping aside the notice.  He appreciated the game saving his ass, but he could do without the stupid puns.

He could see what had attacked him now.  The Dire Python had already recovered.  Its body slithered through the branches above him, and its mouth was visible, fangs outstretched and pink venom dripping to the ground, sending up small streamers of smoke.  It coiled, darting forward in a blur of motion, and Dom dived to the side, slamming into a tree trunk in his haste.  Something in his right shoulder let out a loud pop, followed by a dull ache that radiated into his back and chest.

Dislocated, Dom thought belatedly.

Yet the snake’s jaws snapped shut on empty air.  So that move had at least saved his life.

Fuck.  What now?  He’d attempted this nearly a hundred times now and had never gotten this far before.  He was also just now realizing he had no plan.  He was unarmed and unarmored.  He couldn’t kill that damn snake in a head-on fight.

The only thing he had going for him right now was his ability to respawn—

That’s it!

Dom struggled back to his feet, his skin cut and scratched and his right arm hanging limp.  He waved his left arm at the snake.  “Come and get me, you big black asshole!”  It just hissed in response, coiling back up into the branches above him and the thick foliage obscuring it from sight.

He didn’t wait for it to strike again.  Dom took off running, heading back to that cliff where he’d first died.  Pushing himself harder and harder, he barreled forward, his legs burning and his heart thudding in his chest as his stamina began to bottom out.  Overhead, he could see the branches dip and sway, leaves tumbling to the ground as the snake followed him – abandoning caution in its haste to catch its prey.

Come on… keep going.

The trees began to thin before him, patchy light and blue skies peeking through the wall of green.  Yet Dom didn’t slow.  He’d done this many times before.  Died over and over and over.  He’d been crushed, cut to ribbons, eaten, ripped apart…  But at the end of that pain-filled tunnel was that same euphoria.  That hum that filled his body.  That set his skin to tingling.  That brought the world into sharper focus as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

So, what was one more death?

Dom didn’t slow as he neared the cliff – didn’t hesitate.

He leaped forward, his feet touching down on smooth stone now, the tree cover gone.  The edge of the mountain island loomed only a few feet before him – harsh sunlight now streaming down upon him, a stiff breeze tugging at his clothing.  The crack of wood at his back told him the snake was still in pursuit.  But he couldn’t turn to look.  Couldn’t risk those precious few seconds.

He could only keep going.

Dom pushed off one last time, his body launching up into the air.  Then he could feel himself begin to drop, his body going weightless.  He could see the ground looming far below – more dense jungle and a winding, crystalline river.  He began to pivot in midair, tucking in his body and looking behind him at the black ribbon breaking across the sky.

The Dire Python shot forward in a blaze of movement, rocketing toward him, stretching out to an almost impossible length – its tail still coiled around the base of a tree along the cliff’s edge.  He could only hope it would go too far and it wouldn’t be able to pull itself back.

Yet its body snapped taut too soon, its jaws clamping shut on empty air.

Time seemed to freeze for a long moment.  The creature’s face hovered only inches away from Dom, those cold eyes staring at him.  Venom dripped from its fangs.  This was the closest he’d gotten to killing the beast.  The furthest he’d come.  And yet, it was still just out of reach.

Dom could only watch as he continued to plummet downward… as the snake swung back to the base of the cliff… as it slowly began to wind its body back up onto the ledge.  Dom stared at that beast as he hurtled to his death, wind whipping at his clothing, sunlight shining down upon his face, and the ground racing upward to meet him.

Just like that time he’d lost his balance on the rope bridge…

“Shit,” Dom muttered.  At least, this was a fast way to die.

He struck the ground, and his body exploded in a brief moment of dazzling pain.  Then everything went dark.  Well, “almost” everything.

A single, familiar blue notice hovered in that abyss.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

Chapter 8 - Inspired

Dom grunted as he hit the floor.  Phantom pain radiated from his neck, down his spine, before spreading out to the tips of his toes.  That fall had crushed his legs, the impact traveling up his back and his spine cracking and splintering. Now the sensations were belated, his mind struggling to catch up.  If that had happened in the real world, he definitely would have died.  And even if he’d survived, he’d have been wheelchair-bound for the rest of his life.

The euphoria was also weaker – no longer overwhelming like that first time.  It seemed to grow softer each time, the relief a little more subdued with every death.  The intensity of the death also seemed to matter.  It wasn’t enough to just die.  More protracted or difficult deaths seemed to give him a larger “high.”  In that regard, the Gambler had been right.  Humans could get used to anything – even dying.

It didn’t help that Dom was distracted by the frustration simmering in his chest.  He’d been so close.  So close to killing that damn snake and earning… something.  The prompt hadn’t even indicated a reward.  Maybe the game’s way of telling him this was all futile.  An existential red herring.  Yet another way to distract himself from his fate.

At this point, however, it was also a matter of pride.

His fist pounded into the tiles below him.  “Damn it,” Dom grunted.

“People always seem to fear death above all else.  But that’s shortsighted, in my opinion.  There are things far worse than dying,” the Gambler grumbled from nearby, his voice accompanied by the splash of water.  “Pain.  Torture.  Watching your loved ones die.  Facing failure – even repeated failure.”  A pause and another slosh of liquid hitting the floor.  “Or hell, you could be unclogging this gods’ damned toilet.  Or laying on the floor of a dirty casino bathroom…”

Dom finally looked up to find the Gambler standing in a nearby stall, his hands wrapped in plastic gloves – a plunger in one hand and the other holding a rag to his nose and mouth.  Dom also finally noticed that he was indeed lying on the bathroom floor… which could use a good scrub.  Maybe with a bucket of bleach.  The tiles reeked, and some sort of scum coated the grout.

“Ugh,” Dom winced distastefully, pushing himself to a sitting position.  “At least, I don’t have to worry about getting sick or something.”

“Lucky you.  And this guy apparently doesn’t need to worry about getting more fiber—” the Gambler bit out, viciously heaving at the plunger and water sloshing over the lip of the bowl and raining down on the tiles once more.

“Don’t you have some employees to handle that?” Dom asked as he regained his feet.

The man shot him a glare.  “No.  I don’t.  Employees cost money.  As you’ve likely noticed, this place isn’t exactly pulling in heavy hitters nowadays.”

Dom just shook his head, although he was distracted by a flashing notice in his peripheral vision.  Curious, he tapped at the air.  Suddenly, a cascade of notices appeared before him, glowing with a familiar blue light.

Stat Increases:

+1 Strength

+2 Dexterity

+2 Endurance

+1 Vitality

New Active Skill:  Sprint

When fighting fails, there’s nothing you can do but turn tail and run.  When this skill reaches higher levels, the only part of you that your enemies will see is your backside!

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  5% increased movement speed.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

New Passive Skill:  Dodge

You’ve learned that the trick to fighting is not getting hit!  Good job!

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  1% increased speed and reflexes when avoiding attacks.

New Ability:  Deathwish

Seriously, you may need some therapy.  But then again, if you’re trying to kill yourself, why stop here?  Let’s just speed this process up a bit…

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  30% Increased Respawn Speed (Currently 14 minutes).

What’s all this? Dom thought to himself.

It seemed he’d gained some stat points, even if he didn’t have any sense of whether those increases were large or small – or even what they meant.  The names seemed somewhat intuitive, but that was about it.  The new skills were much more interesting.  Especially Deathwish.  Dom supposed that would dramatically increase his uptime.  He could probably get in three runs per hour now after accounting for the time it took him to get back to the gate.

Although, the prompts raised a more pressing question.

“How’d I earn this?” Dom murmured.

The Gambler shot him a glance, noting that Dom was swiping at the air.  “Ahh, you get some stat and skill notices?  About damn time.”

Dom raised an eyebrow.  “What does that mean?”

The Gambler had already turned back to the toilet, cursing under his breath.  “This place is pretty lifelike, but it still resembles a game – of sorts, anyway.  So, you’re rewarded with stats and skills based on your actions.”  A brief glance at Dom.  “In this case, you’ve been spending a lot of time running around, and you dodged multiple attacks from that snake, so you gained the relevant skills.”

“And Deathwish?” Dom asked.

The Gambler grunted as he heaved at the plunger again.  “You’ve been killing yourself over and over, haven’t you?”  His tone indicated this should have been obvious.

“You act like I should already know this, but you were the one who insisted I skip the tutorial,” Dom pointed out, leaning back against one of the sinks.  Oscar was sitting on a nearby sink and waved a small paw in greeting, Dom waving back tentatively.

Someone chose that moment to enter the bathroom.  “Out-of-fucking-order,” the Gambler snapped.  “Can’t you read the sign?”  he pointed at a crude paper drawing – just a hand with its middle finger “artfully” arranged.

“But what do I—” the patron started.

“You hold it!” the Gambler shot back.  Then, with a wave of his hand, a gust of wind sent the man stumbling backward out of the bathroom and the door slamming shut.

Huh, so he’s controlling the wind, Dom realized.  That was interesting, even if he had no idea what that meant…

He shook his head.  A problem for another time.  “You’re a real people person, huh?”  Dom asked.  “You ever think that your attitude might be what’s turning away patrons?”

The Gambler pinched the bridge of his nose, abandoning his plunger as he turned back to Dom.  “Pretty sure it’s because this place is a shithole.”

Dom grunted, crossing his arms, and waiting.  “If you say so.  Anyway, about my skills and stats…” he trailed off, waiting for the Gambler.

The man sighed.  “Okay.  Fine.  You’re right.  I should explain a couple things.  I’ll talk real slow so that you can follow.  You ready?”

Dom just nodded, even if he was grinding his teeth at the same time.

The Gambler took a breath.  “You.  Are.  Playing.  A.  Game.  It.  Has.  A.  Menu.”

With that “helpful” advice, the Gambler turned back to the toilet.  It seemed like somehow the water level had increased – despite him doing nothing at all.  For his part, Dom looked at Oscar, the rat just offering him a shrug in response.

“Someone sure seems like he’s in a shitty mood today,” Dom muttered under his breath.  He just heard more muted cursing from the stall in response.  Although, Oscar offered him a tiny-pawed hi-five, chittering softly at his pun.  At least someone appreciated his jokes.

But Dom supposed the Gambler had offered some helpful advice.  He hadn’t really spent any time exploring his UI or the game’s menus.  He’d just been running around haphazardly up until this point.  So, he decided to fix that, tapping at the air to bring up his menu.  A few minutes of exploration later and he discovered his skill log, the basic in-game functions like the chat system, and a button labeled Character Status.

That one sounds promising, Dom thought, tapping at the UI.

System Notice

Hidden stat unlocked:  Luck.

Affinity system unlocked.

Be sure to thank your local, overworked casino owner.

Character Status

Name:

Dom

Gender:

Male

Level:

1

Class:

Race:

Human

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Fame:

0

Infamy:

0

Health:

120

H/Sec:

0.40

Mana:

NA

M/Sec:

NA

Stamina

180

S/Sec:

1.30

Str

11

Dex

12

Vit

11

End

12

Int

10

Will

10

Lck

10

Affinities

Dark:

6%

Light:

5%

Fire:

3%

Water:

1%

Air:

12%

Earth:

1%

“Uh, this prompt says to thank you.  So, thanks, I guess,” Dom offered.  “Also, I unlocked a hidden stat?  And what are affinities?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion.

Another sigh escaped the Gambler’s lips as he jiggled the toilet handle.  “Just what it says.  Luck is a hidden stat.  It does what you’d think it does.  It makes you luckier.  You aren’t going to be able to allocate points to it, though.”

“Points?”

“Oh, for the love of—” the Gambler began but stopped himself short.  He closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth a few times.  “Om shanti, shanti, shanti,” he murmured under his breath a few times.

When his eyes popped back open, Dom was just staring at him skeptically.  “What?  My therapist says I need to work on processing my anger in a healthier way.  So, you can go fuck yourself with this plunger,” he said, waving the dripping instrument at Dom.

“Maybe you should try repeating that mantra a few more times,” Dom offered dryly.

“Maybe you should—” he stopped himself short, taking another breath.  “Anyway, as I said before, this is a game.  You get experience for killing things and completing tasks.  When you level, you get stat points you can use to increase your stats.  However, you can only increase luck through certain actions, skills, and Chaotic Blessing.”

Dom nodded, ignoring the Gambler’s irritation.  That sort of made sense.  But he’d earned stats without leveling.  That seemed to imply he could increase his Strength, for example, without actually killing any monsters or completing quests.  Maybe it had been a function of all that running around and almost dying?

Except then, why hadn’t he gotten these notifications before now?

The Gambler seemed to anticipate his question, holding up a hand as Dom went to open his mouth.  “Just don’t.  I already know what you’re going to ask.  You only get stat increases from training if you actually get into a fight or dire situation and don’t die immediately.  Hanging off a bridge for a few seconds isn’t going to cut it.  Neither does dying in 2 seconds to insects or flowers… or tripping and giving yourself a concussion.”  Dom winced.  That hadn’t been one of his finer moments, but in his defense, he’d had a cloud of killer mosquitos chasing him.

Seeing realization settle across Dom’s face, the Gambler turned back to his battle with the toilet, cursing softly to himself.

Dom cocked his head.  His embarrassment aside, the explanation was interesting.

He’d been majoring in kinesiology before his diagnosis.  That had seemed like it fit well with his athletic training and experience.  Even if he didn’t manage to go pro – a long shot – he could train or coach other people.  That was the path many former athletes took anyway.  But now, it offered a possible opportunity.

As Dom saw it, leveling was going to be hard, especially without the support of <The Jackals>.  He wasn’t going to be able to kill any of the wildlife outside of Aislen, at least not unarmed and unarmored and with level 1 stats.  He could probably find odd jobs to complete around town, but his bet was that option was going to take forever.

But could he train his stats intentionally?

He certainly knew how to do strength and mobility training back in the real world.  And given how realistic this game world was at times, his bet was that those skills might translate into Awaken Online.  Especially if he actually spent time doing them – as opposed to running for his life for a few seconds at a time.  But then again, he could also just ask.

“So, can I train my stats by just working out?” Dom asked the Gambler.

“Finally, a decent question,” he grunted, not bothering to turn around.  “Yes, yes, you can.  Although, just like in your world, there are limits – diminishing returns.  Not unlike what we talked about after your first death.  People get used to certain stimuli.  That applies both emotionally and physically.  You’ll have to keep escalating the training to get the same results, vary it up, increase the weight or difficulty – that sort of thing.

“That was actually one of my contributions to this fucking place,” the Gambler muttered under his breath, heaving at the plunger savagely.  “But did anyone thank me?  No.  Not a damn one.  They all just complain about how hard it is.  How challenging.  Bitch and moan.  Maybe next time, I’ll have everyone start with max skills and stats.  Then they can complain about easy it is.  How bored they are.  Ungrateful shits.”

Dom shook his head at that.  He had no idea what the Gambler was talking about.

Not that it really mattered.  An idea was now flitting through Dom’s mind – the outline of a training regime similar to the one he used in the real world… with a few modifications, of course.  He brought up his in-game console through the menu, loaded a spreadsheet, and started outlining a set of exercises and drills.  Although, he hesitated as he stared at that chart a few minutes later.  Something was off, but it took him a moment to realize what it was.

He’d started from a template that alternated training days and training types.  For example, upper body on day 1.  Legs on day 2.  Cardio on day 3, etc.  Normally, his diet and rest schedule would also be relevant, aiding his training.

But this isn’t real life…

This was a game.  Which meant Dom didn’t need to wait 24-72 hours between certain exercises for his body to recover.  He never got tired.  He never needed to eat and sleep.  Or hit the right macronutrient ratios.  There was no bulking and cutting.  This game replaced all of that with stamina – stamina that replenished his total pool in about 2 minutes based on his character status.  That could potentially allow him to hyper-accelerate his training.

Not that he expected the native creatures would give him 2 minutes to recover each time, unless he just happened to get really lucky, of course.

But with Deathwish, maybe he didn’t need to wait or rely on his luck.

If he was following the Gambler’s explanation, each death should improve the skill, further reducing his respawn time as it leveled.  Plus, he might be able to use his downtime here in the casino after each death to continue training – or, at least, he could give it a shot.  This was still part of the game world, wasn’t it?  Over time, he might be able to increase the efficiency of that workout loop as he grew stronger and his skills improved.

In short, he might have stumbled upon a way to improve his stats – to give him a fighting chance against the fucking Dire Python without actually leveling.

He was just going to have to die.  A lot.

A few minutes later, Dom took one last look at his revised spreadsheet before swiping it away.  And just in time, his respawn timer had almost clicked down to zero in the corner of his UI.  “I think I have a plan,” Dom said finally.

“For how to fix this damn toilet?” the Gambler grumbled.  “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Dom just chuckled.  “Not quite.”  He shoved away from the sink and stepped around the Gambler.  Then, with a quick jerk, he pulled the handle, the water spiraling down the bowl as it emptied.

“What the hell is this?” the Gambler muttered, staring in shock.

“What can I say, maybe I’m just lucky,” Dom shot back.

As the Gambler turned to snap at him, he found that Dom was missing, the door to the bathroom swinging open and a gust of wind sweeping through the casino – the “Exit” light just barely visible in the distance.  His expression sobered, his back straightened, and an amber glow lit his eyes as he stared at the black abyss that lingered on the other side of those doors.

“Good.  I’m counting on it,” the Gambler murmured with a faint grin.

Chapter 9 - Sing-Song

Adrian Pearson strummed at his guitar, eyes closed and fingers plucking out a few chords, letting the music echo throughout the room, gentle at first.  Just an introduction.  A soothing greeting.

He’d always wanted to be a musician.  Wanted to be famous.  To stand on stage before a massive crowd, a stadium of heads and arms and voices that stretched off into the distance.  His fingers began to speed up, plucking at the strings more rapidly now.  The tempo was rising, rising, rising to a grand climax as he imagined the crowds coming to hear him play, his songs streamed countless times, band drama, evil managers and producers, bodyguards, and fan mail, and merchandise.  He wanted it all.

Badly.  Desperately.  A glowing, bright, hopeful crescendo sang from his fingers – one that mirrored his dream, tapering off into sweet silence… and here it would come.  The vibration of thousands rising to their feet.  The roar of their applause.

Yet as the final notes of the song faded, only silence followed.

Adrian’s eyes snapped open, the illusion shattered by harsh reality as he surveyed the nearly empty and shadowed barroom.  Only a handful of patrons filled the large space, and the place reeked of cheap beer, even with the way AO muted his sense of smell.  A grimace tugged at his lips, his fingers hanging limply across the strings.  Dreams were nice and all, but here he was…

Strumming his guitar in a dilapidated tavern.

In a backwater jungle.

Controlled by a videogame mafia.

So, just a bit different than he’d imagined.

Adrian glared at the three kids at the bar, one letting out an exclamation as he slammed his mug down.  None of them could be older than thirteen.  The three had been competing for the last hour to see who could drink the most, chugging one beer after another.  The booze flowed freely in-game, and it gave a nice buzz, even if it wasn’t technically alcohol.  As a result, it was in a fuzzy middle ground – not truly illegal in the real world, at least not yet.

“Brave new fucking world,” Adrian muttered, raising his own mug in mock salute, and downing the contents in one go.  Not that any of the patrons seemed to notice.

The clink of coin distracted him, a few coppers rattling against his cheap guitar case.  “Your set’s done.  Here’s your pay,” the tavern owner grunted, wiping grease-stained hands on his apron.

Two coppers?  That’s it?  Yet Adrian swallowed his frustration.  He knew his complaints would land on deaf ears.  The place had been practically empty all day, and the tavern owner still needed to keep the doors open and the taps flowing.

“Uh, thanks,” Adrian managed.

As he finished speaking, a glowing blue notice flickered into existence.

Quest Completed:  Crowing for Coin

Difficulty:  F

Success:  Play during your shift.

Failure:  Would anyone even notice if you didn’t show up?

Reward:  2 coppers

Adrian sniffed and flicked the notice aside.  The little barb felt completely unnecessary, almost like the damn game was mocking him.  Maybe the administrator was friends with his parents.  Whoever they were, they seemed to capture his parents’ tone perfectly.

The gruff tavern owner had turned, heading back to the bar.  “Same time tomorrow?” Adrian called out after him.

The man hesitated, not bothering to turn around.  “Nah.  We’re good.”  Then he just kept walking, trudging back behind the bar.

Adrian’s eyes widened.  That was it.  He’d just been fired.

Inside a gods-damned videogame!

He slumped back on his stool, rubbing at his face.

He’d logged into this “game” brimming with excitement.  He’d seen the advertisements.  A living, breathing world.  Lifelike residents.  No class or skill restrictions.  “Play the way you want,” those ads had promised.  “Live your dreams,” they had said.  “You won’t be able to tell you’ve left the real world behind…”

Although, he supposed that last one had delivered.

This place was exactly like the real world.

“Should have been, ‘fail the way you want,’” he muttered to himself, eyeing his empty mug forlornly.  However, he shouldn’t use his hard-earned money on more fake booze, even if he desperately wanted a drink right now.  So, he just squeezed his eyes shut as though that would help him ignore the reality of his situation.

Because the bottom line was that he was just as much a failure in this world as his own.  Just another guy with a guitar and a dream of greatness… and not much else.  One of tens of millions.  How did you become famous in a world already saturated with competition?  Stream covers of already popular bands?  Like thousands of others?  Stand in line to be publicly humiliated on live television?  Not like he stood any chance of winning without a compelling sob story.  He wasn’t a five-year-old girl with a brain tumor and the voice of an angel.  Or a wounded vet playing the guitar with his toes and a wife and children at home that he needed to support with his disability checks.  Or he supposed he could busk at bus stops and subway stations and hope to go viral?  Which was basically just one step up from begging?

Might as well just buy a damn lottery ticket.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?  To “make it” nowadays, you needed to both have a rather unhealthy dose of luck AND be the complete package.  Dance, sing, play, write… and look pretty damn good doing all of the above.

Adrian liked to think he at least had that last one pegged.  His velvet-lined tunic was a little ratty and had a few holes, but it hugged his slender figure.  And besides, it was a step up from that beige potato sack they’d started him in.  His fingers traced the curve of his hat, one he’d… err, found, covered in some unidentifiable sludge.

Vintage and distressed, he reminded himself.

Luckily, it had washed off well enough.

Adrian let out a sigh.  He’d just hoped this place would be different.  But from day one, he’d encountered one obstacle after another.  He hadn’t been “good enough” to be inducted into <The Jackals>.  Those bastards had actually laughed at him when he’d explained that he wanted to play as a bard.  Sure, he’d played some D&D.  He knew there was some prejudice out there against the “noble” class of rogue musicians.

Unfortunately, he’d underestimated just how deeply that antipathy ran.

Maybe his next hit single should be, “Bards Suck!”

Fine, he didn’t have the resources of a guild behind him.  He could at least practice and play for crowds.  Gain a bit of fame and coin in-game.  And if gamers hated bards that much, well, then there should be far less competition here, right?

What Adrian had underestimated was the lack of demand.  Why did people need to listen to some amateur musician in a shitty, digital bar?  And as for the residents?  Well, this was a backwater hellhole.  He’d even heard a few of them refer to Aislen as the “World’s Asshole.”  Believe it or not, many of them didn’t have the time, patience, or attention for frivolous shit like music.  They were worried about surviving, not Adrian’s next platinum record.

Or first, technically.  But who was counting?

Okay, so what then?  He could leave, right?  Find another town and another audience.  Maybe a place with some culture and a good red wine.  That didn’t sound like a terrible plan…

Except that it was impossible.

The jungle outside was a deathtrap.  Practically everything out there in that wet, green hell could kill you.  The only people that made it far outside of town were those that grouped up.  And it turned out <The Jackals> were the only guild in town for that – a lonely beacon for the travelers unfortunate enough to start here.  Alone, Adrian wouldn’t make it a mile outside of town, much less to the next populated town or city – however far away that even was.

He looked down at his guitar forlornly.  It looked about how he felt right now.  The thing was beat to shit – the wood chipped, a couple pegs missing, and the strings fraying.  Yet it was the only viable instrument he’d found in Aislen.  And even then, it had taken him days of doing grunt work to afford the thing.  But it was also possibly his most treasured item in-game.  His Baby.  One bright spot amid an ocean of bullshit.

Speaking of coin, Adrian stooped and pocketed the paltry copper coins, slipping them into his bag and growing his meager hoard.  The truth was that he didn’t have a plan – not a viable one anyway.  Save up enough to hire some bodyguards?  That might take a hundred years, even with the time compression.  This gig hadn’t paid well, but it was still better than mending nets or cleaning out the smithy or mucking out the local pigsty.  So, money was out.

Adrian might have been able to console himself that at least he was leveling in the meantime – gaining experience and improving his music skills.  Except he wasn’t.  It seemed he needed an audience for his skills to advance any further.  Go figure.

He set down his guitar gently, snapping the case closed with a grimace.

The truth was that he was trapped…

“—all pointless,” a man growled from nearby, slamming his fist against the table.  He sat with a few other men, tags above their heads marking them as members of <The Jackals>.  The group looked haggard, and dried blood stained their armor.  “Doesn’t matter how hard we try to cut away the jungle and clear the islands, it just grows back.”

“I heard some of the guild officers talking.  They say we’re gaining about a quarter-mile per day right now.  Maybe a little less with the regrowth,” another man grunted in response, rubbing at his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“This is what I mean.  What’s the point?  Building roads and trade routes through that mess?  It just seems like a pipe dream,” the first man barked in frustration.  “Does anyone actually think we’re going to escape this shithole?  Make it to another town?  And even if we do, it’ll take what?  Months of time in-game?”

Silence met that statement, his teammates nodding at his words.

“What’s the alternative, though?” one asked finally, echoing Adrian’s own thoughts.  “We’re locked out of rerolling for a real-world month.”

Another barked out a laugh.  “We could always just kamikaze into the forest like that nutjob.”  Most of the group nodded along, but a few shot him a confused look.  “You’ve heard about this guy, right?  Some dude is just racing out into the jungle, dying, and doing it over and over again.  Maybe he’s hoping he can get lucky and sprint his way to the next town.”

The others shook their heads, laughing with him.

Although, one member frowned.  “Sure, that seems impossible.  But I’ve also heard some of those rumors.  People are saying that guy is able to survive out there for a lot longer than anyone else.”  He raised a hand to ward off any objections.  “And before you ask, we’re talking about the uncleared islands.  So, the dude is playing on hard mode.”

“Sure, but are we talking about the same guy?” another of their group piped up.  “Seems like he’s just a masochist.  Or maybe he’s just not all there upstairs,” he said, tapping his forehead. “I swear I saw him sitting in a damn deathhopper nest the other day.”

“I saw him doing pullups on the bridge… until he fell.”

The original skeptic pointed at those two.  “See?  Probably the same reason Booker and the other guild leaders won’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.  And why most of the other travelers avoid him.  Guy’s nuts,” he added.

The man that had defended him folded his arms defensively.  “I’m not saying he’s sane.  I’m just saying that he seems to be surviving.  I even heard from one of the residents that his longest run was an hour.  No one else has lasted that long besides our raid groups, and they’re all filled with high levels wearing decent gear and traveling with a small army.”

A wide-eyed, incredulous silence met that statement.

Even their skeptics looked at a loss for words, just staring in disbelief.

The man raised a finger, adding more fuel to the fire.  “That’s a full hour in the jungle with no weapons, no armor, and wearing noob gear.  By all accounts, he’s also still level 1.  Sure, he might just be lucky… or maybe he’s actually on to something.”

The skeptic just snorted.  “If any of that is even true.  You trusting resident gossip now?  What has this place come to?  Is this really such a shithole that the only entertainment we have is listening to the NPCs’ urban myths?”

Adrian had to admit that one cut him to the quick.

Had they heard him playing at all?  He hadn’t exactly been quiet…

The conversation quickly devolved into more bitching and drinking.  Otherwise known as the true #1 source of entertainment in the “thriving metropolis” of Aislen.

For his part, Adrian had listened to their conversation with rapt attention.  He shared their incredulous reactions.  A noob surviving in the jungle for an hour?  Wearing nothing?  And with no companions?  That seemed impossible.  Insane, really.  But he’d also heard the rumors of some huge guy killing himself over and over.  He’d just discarded it as bullshit.  But if the tales were spreading and a couple of these guys had seen him themselves…

Well, then maybe there was some truth to the stories.

And if this guy had figured out a way to survive in the jungle, that might offer Adrian a way to escape this damnable place and finally rid himself of the wet and grime.  Allow him to find a city or town where his talents were better appreciated – assuming a place like that existed.

Although, the thought of braving the jungle made his stomach queasy.  He’d experienced firsthand how realistic this world could be, and he’d heard the many, many horror stories by now.  On the other hand, he didn’t even have a way to earn any money right now.  He was heading nowhere.  He was desperate.  And it wasn’t like he could really die.

So, what did he have to lose?

Suddenly deciding, Adrian hefted his guitar case, his knuckles white against the strap as he strode past the group of <The Jackals> and toward the tavern’s door.

Now he just needed to find a madman with a death wish…

Chapter 10 - Relentless

Dom reentered the game world abruptly, but this time he didn’t faceplant or slam his knees into the cobblestones.  His reflexes were now more than able to compensate for the random entry.  He shifted in the air, landing on one knee and his fist pounding into the stone.  He slowly pushed himself back to his feet, standing there for a moment and raising his face to the sky.  He relished the sensation of the wind whisking at his clothes and the warmth of the sun on his skin.

He’d only died a few short moments ago, the remnants of that tantalizing, intoxicating burn still humming through his veins – a cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins that left him feeling lighter.  Good even.  No matter how many times he died, that sensation always overcame him, although it never seemed to last as long, and the withdrawal had begun to feel sharper.

Even now, Dom could feel the sensation slipping away...

That weight beginning to settle back upon his shoulders...

His eyes snapped open.  Others were spawning in around him, gasping for breath and clutching at their chests or limbs – the extremity likely torn off or broken as they’d died.  New travelers stood nearby, watching in alarm – trying vainly to cover the concern that Dom knew would morph into full-blown fear before long.  They hadn’t tried to leave Aislen yet, after all.

However, that wasn’t his problem.  Dom stretched to distract himself from the bleak thoughts hovering at the edges of his mind, yanking off his beige tunic and letting the wind whip against the bare muscle of his arms and torso.  It might be his imagination, but it looked like he’d gotten bigger.  And the game had gradually begun to reflect his many, many deaths with lines of scars that now overlapped across his body.  He wasn’t sure if this was normal, but it had caused his skin to toughen – growing thicker and denser.

Dom was also drawing attention now, the other players openly gawking at this point.  He should probably get going, and besides, he was wasting time.  There was still training to be done now that his stamina and health had been fully replenished.  He nodded at the noobs before crouching and taking off toward the bridge, his legs surging below him and the wind whistling past as he sailed out of the courtyard.

His respawn and departure hadn’t gone unnoticed by the members of <The Jackals>.

Booker stood in the shadows of the courtyard’s walls.  He’d heard rumors about this guy.  Almost dismissed them as bullshit like everyone else.  But as his eyes skimmed back to where Dom had just been standing, he noted two shallow impressions in the cobblestones.  Grooves that hadn’t been there before.  One smaller, almost the size of a fist.  Another slightly larger, with two deeper imprints toward its center.

If he hadn’t just witnessed it himself, Booker wouldn’t have believed it.  He’d just seen that man punch a tiny crater in solid rock and dirt with his bare hand.  And then his speed when he took off…  It was incredible.  At least for a novice wearing starting gear and with no magical augmentation.  Many of their higher-leveled foot soldiers would struggle to match that power, and they were passing level 100 already.

Booker shook his head.  It seemed these were more than just rumors.

He grimaced.  Which meant he might have fucked up in underestimating this man.

Or perhaps this was just superficial, his brain immediately tried to rationalize – strength and endurance with no combat skills behind it?  Some sort of skill, maybe?  Maybe it was nothing that would help the guild’s progress.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about that player…

In which case, Booker supposed he needed more information.

***

The gate soon loomed close as Dom continued to streak down the street.  He could go faster.  Maybe jump up onto the nearby rooftops to help practice his balance and improve his Dexterity.  But this was just a warmup, his stamina barely ticking down as he sprinted forward.  He didn’t want to wear himself out before he hit the jungle.

And, besides, he was already drawing enough attention.  The residents and travelers craned their necks to follow him as they watched him jog past at a rapid clip.  Maybe it was his speed.  Or maybe the thick layer of muscle that wrapped his arms and chest.

As he saw two familiar faces, Dom skidded to a stop, throwing up a small cloud of dust.

“Hey there,” Feng said, raising a hand and offering a smile.

“If it isn’t our traveling sadist,” Chin added dryly.

“I try,” Dom grunted, not quite managing a smile.

Feng shuffled over to the wall beside the gate, a stone in hand.  “No kidding,” he shot back over his shoulder, scratching at the wall.  “This marks your 1,000th death, by the way.”

Dom raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the wall.

Indeed, rows of marks now lined the wood, stretching nearly six feet up the barricade and as many feet down the barricade – Feng and Chin diligently tracking his attempts.  He’d never asked them to do that, but it seemed they’d taken a macabre interest in his training regimen.

“We were going to throw you a party or celebration, but we weren’t sure what to get you.  Or even how to celebrate… uh, this.” Chin waved at the wall by way of explanation.

“Maybe push you off the bridge?  I hear you’re into that sort of thing,” Feng offered as he returned, a lopsided smile painted across his face.

“Wow, thanks.  Not sure how that would look, though.  A guard shoving a guy wearing noob equipment to his death?” Dom offered with a faint note of amusement.  “Probably get people talking.”

“Oh, they’re already talking,” Chin murmured, motioning behind Dom.

Dom followed his gesture.  Indeed, he could see groups slowing as they departed Aislen, pointing at him and speaking in hushed voices.  Some were incredulous, shaking their heads – most wearing the livery of <The Jackals>.  Others stared at him with curiosity shining in their eyes.  They knew what he would do next, head off into the jungle… alone.  Take the bridges no one dared cross without a miniature armory and a group at their back.

Even the patrons back in the casino were starting to look at him strangely upon his frequent visits.  The enthusiasm for betting on his death had faded swiftly as Dom continued to survive in the jungle longer and longer periods – a function now more of skill than luck.  It seemed there was more fun to be had in his failure than success.  There might even be a lesson in there somewhere, but Dom didn’t really want to think too hard about it.

Regardless, it hadn’t been that way at first.

Days had passed in the real world since he’d discovered his Character Status and begun his new training circuit.  Perhaps more than a week in-game, although it was difficult to tell with the way he trained, cycling between the jungle, the casino, and that courtyard – only to repeat the loop again.  And again.  And again.  Sometimes the sun shone high overhead.  Sometimes, stars twinkled in the twilight hours, phosphorescent flowers lighting his way through the jungle.  Logging out certainly didn’t help him keep track of time since the day and night cycles didn’t match up.  Plus, he rarely spent much time in his apartment – just enough to eat and sleep.

However, in that time, his regimen had changed.  Adapted.  Evolved.

He’d been forced to keep pushing himself harder and faster – taking more absurd risks with each death.

Diminishing returns.  That’s what the Gambler had called them.  Dom had faced similar walls or plateaus in his training in the real world.  But unlike there, he could push himself so much farther in-game.  He didn’t need to worry about torn muscles or broken bones, or rest days.  He didn’t even need to be afraid of dying.

Without those limits, his training had become increasingly extreme.  Crazy even.

As Dom’s gaze returned to those marks on the nearby wall – all those attempts, all of those deaths – he couldn’t help but feel conflicted.  That wall marked his pain.  His failures.

But, also his successes.  His discoveries.

It had been a long few days…

***

Attempts 100-300

After unlocking Deathwish, Dom had started with basic endurance and mobility training.  It was a test of sorts, his attempt to see how he gained physical stats and skill increases.  It wasn’t anything elegant or well-planned.  The only goal was to survive for as long as possible.  And if he happened to get faster and increase his endurance?  Well, then that would just act as a good foundation to keep escalating his training.

So, he would set off into the jungle using Sprint.

He’d run as hard and fast as he could, jumping over obstacles and fallen logs while avoiding the plants, insects, predators, and even birdlike creatures that chased him.  Actually, he’d learned to avoid pretty much anything living out in the jungle, which was quite an undertaking in the shadowy, wet, green hell that loomed around Aislen.  Creatures and plants seemed to thrive out there, lurking around every branch and trunk.

Yet Dom only focused on running as fast as he could and dodging and avoiding the many, many different attacks thrown at him.  His luck helped immensely there, allowing him to avoid several killing blows while his skills were still in their infancy.  That enabled him to last a hair longer – push himself just a bit harder.

Although, like with the python, his luck had a limit.

He’d run until he messed up too badly for his Chaotic Blessing to compensate.  At which point, something would eat him.  Sometimes, he managed to keep going until his stamina bottomed out – at which point something would eat him.  Or he would just mess up… and then, something would eat him.  The end result was always the same.

If he stopped – for any reason – he died.  Gruesomely.

Only to respawn and do it again.

And again.

And again.

And with each death, he grew stronger and faster.  His respawn timer grew shorter.  Stat and skill notifications rained in, greeting him upon his return to the casino.

Stat Increases:

+11 Strength

+21 Dexterity

+23 Endurance

+4 Vitality

x10 Skill Rank Up:  Sprint

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  10% increased movement speed.

Effect 2:  -10% stamina drain.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

x8 Skill Rank Up:  Dodge

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 9

Effect:  5% increased speed and reflexes when avoiding attacks.

X6 Skill Rank Up:  Deathwish

Skill Level: Beginner Level 7

Effect: 36% Increased Respawn Speed (Currently 12.8 minutes).

***

Attempts 300-600

Dom’s initial attempts had been helpful.  He’d gotten faster and much harder to kill, allowing him to survive for more than 10 minutes on average out in the jungle.  Hitting intermediate in Sprint had also revealed that the skills had secondary effects at higher ranks, encouraging Dom to work harder.  Those bonuses would be invaluable when spread across several skills, enabling him to further compensate for his lack of levels.

The increases to his Endurance alone had also tripled his stamina, letting him last longer and run farther.  And he’d begun to feel the effects of the increased Dexterity and Strength, even if they were only small, incremental increases.  His previous training back in the real world made those changes easier to spot.  It was the way his limbs felt stronger, just a bit more flexible.  His grip was firmer as he vaulted over a log or hung from a branch.  The animals and plants also seemed a touch slower, due in part to his Dodge skill improving.

And when he died, the training continued in the casino.  It was part of this world, after all.  And he still regained his stamina upon respawn.  He’d repurposed a dilapidated corner of the floor, using old broken machines and equipment as makeshift weights.  The gains were small, almost insignificant compared to what he could accomplish outside Aislen, and he needed to stop in time to allow his stamina to regenerate before he spawned back into the game world.

But every little bit helped.

However, those damn “diminishing” returns soon began to raise their ugly heads.  His progress dropped off steeply around attempt 300, each death providing less benefit, which meant he needed to keep escalating the challenge. Although, that was difficult to do with just running.

So, he decided to focus on strength training next – which also meant a small break from the jungle.  Dom stuck to the outskirts of Aislen for a few dozen attempts.  And with his expanded stamina pool, he could push himself pretty hard before he needed to die and reset.

It began with basic calisthenics.

He didn’t have good weights or equipment to use, after all.  So, he used bodyweight.  Pushups, squats, lunges, crunches, planks.  After which, he’d go for a slow and often very short jog into the jungle to reset his stamina.  And it worked.  He improved rapidly.  Accomplishing in days what would have taken him weeks or months in the real world – in a universe limited by pesky things like his body’s metabolism or injuries.

Yet, inevitably, the results faded again, and he was forced to escalate.  One-arm push-ups.  Pistol squats.  Then squats carrying a big rock he found at the end of one of the rope bridges.  Then only with one leg.  Then he was carrying that damn rock through nearly every exercise.

When that petered out, he switched back to upper body.  He tossed the rock over and over, until he was strong enough to curl it.  He made sure to weave in back exercises, doing dozens of pull-ups – first on the lip of the wall, then the edge of one of the rope bridges.  Although, he fudged with his grip a couple of times.  And those times when he didn’t mess up, his stamina would eventually run out, which had some… unpleasant consequences.

Let’s just say he got real used to falling off that fucking bridge.

After some time, Dom was able to do dozens of pull-ups with a single arm.  Then with just a few fingers, then just a single finger.  Still, there was a limit to how far he could progress, and he stalled out yet again.  He did take some solace in the fact that he’d now far surpassed what he could accomplish in the real world – even before the cancer.

At which point, Feng and Chin had been kind enough to offer some help.  It seemed they had some time on their hands, and Dom was possibly the most interesting thing around.  He’d returned to the gate around attempt 450 to find some old, empty barrels and a few coils of tattered rope sitting beside the pair.  The barrels looked to hold about 50 gallons.  So that put the weight at a little over 400 pounds if they were completely filled with water.

Now, he had a way to progress further.

Dom hit the resistance training again – going through the same rotations for his lower and upper body, but using the barrel.  After another few dozen deaths, he was doing pullups with the thing tied around his waist – although, admittedly, it wasn’t completely full.  And after losing a barrel or two to deaths and receiving a dressing down from his guard benefactors, he’d learned to carefully set the damn thing back on the bridge before his stamina bottomed out and he died.

When his gains started to slow, he decided to switch back to focusing on his endurance and mobility, but this time with a heavy handicap.  He would stop at the gate, hauling one of the barrels up onto his back and having Feng and Chin tie it in place.  Then he’d set off into the jungle, making his familiar circuit through the densely-packed forest – dashing, leaping, dodging to avoid the horde of native creatures hellbent on killing him, all with that weight strapped to his back.

And with each death, each attempt, Dom increased the load.  Just a little bit.  A cup or two of water from one of the local rain barrels.  And it certainly wasn’t all easy going.  The added weight made him slower.  It also threw off his center of balance, making it much more difficult to accomplish the rapid bursts of movement needed to dodge.  He’d been cut open, torn apart, gutted, poisoned, and bled death over and over again.  But he continued to improve.

Which also came with an interesting realization.  As Dom’s stats increased, he noticed his luck multiplier kept dropping closer to zero.  If he removed the weights, it would actually start going negative – meaning his luck was terrible.  But if he increased the weight, he could keep it relatively even, intentionally handicapping himself to ensure the universe didn’t screw him over.

Although, in the end, the jungle always won anyway.

His best was a dozen runs in a row where he’d survived until his stamina went dry.  Although, on the last run, he got a bit overconfident.  Dom upped the weight far too much, which caused him to trip as he tried to avoid an acid-spitting flower, sending him toppling right into a Deathhopper nest hidden in a rotten log.

As he crushed through the weakened wood, the bugs swarmed him.  But Dom had grown strong enough that he didn’t die immediately.  He managed to scramble clear of the nest, dragging himself and that damnable barrel away as the bugs sliced into his arms, chest, and legs, leaving burning lines in their wake.  He even managed to regain his feet for a few seconds, but the insects were relentless, leaping incredible distances and cutting at the flesh of his legs until blood ran freely down his skin.  Until muscle and tendon snapped, and his knees struck hard-packed dirt.

Until he could only look on in horror as those bugs cut him open.

But when he’d returned to the casino, a new notification awaited him.

One that held intriguing new possibilities…

Stat Increases:

+65 Strength

+16 Dexterity

+42 Endurance

+8 Vitality

New Passive Skill:  Iron Skin

After getting hit a LOT, you haven’t gotten any smarter, but you have gotten a tiny bit tougher.  You are now able to withstand more damage, your skin mimicking the effect of basic leather armor.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  +200 Armor

New Passive Skill:  Strength Training

Your focus on training your strength is astonishing, showing a depth of knowledge and anatomy unusual within his world.  As a result, all strength increases are improved.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  5% Strength Increase

New Passive Skill:  Endurance Training

You can keep going forever, or at least much longer than most other noobs.  Your commitment and expertise in training your endurance now shows improved results.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  5% Endurance Increase

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Sprint

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2

Effect 1:  10.50% increased movement speed.

Effect 2:  -11% stamina drain.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Dodge

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  6% increased speed and reflexes when avoiding attacks.

Effect 2:  1% increased Dexterity.

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Deathwish

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  39% Increased Respawn Speed (Currently 12.20 minutes).

***

Attempts 600-1000

Dying to the Deathhoppers – or really, surviving against the Deathhoppers – had granted him Iron Skin, improving Dom’s damage resistance.  And the realization that a skill like that existed, well, it was a game-changer.  Literally.

Dom’s first step was to test the new skill with Feng and Chin so he could control the damage he was taking.  Neither man had been super happy about stabbing him, but they’d eventually gotten over it, especially when they saw how many stab wounds Dom could take now without collapsing.

And in the process, Dom discovered that while the skill almost acted like a natural armor, its mere existence implied much more than that.  If this skill existed – if his body’s natural defenses could also be improved – that was a way he could bypass one of his problems.

Like the fact that he couldn’t afford any decent armor.

But if he could make his body more resilient, then that fit perfectly with what Dom was trying to accomplish.  Back in the real world, he was a linebacker.  He was accustomed to playing defense.  Which meant he needed to be strong and fast, but perhaps more importantly, he needed to be able to take a hit.  And the same would hold true here inside of AO.  If he was to have any hope of completing the Gambler’s quest and killing that Dire Python, he was going to need to be able to endure some damage – likely a LOT of damage.

Dom set off back into the forest again, abandoning his barrel for the moment as he focused on training the new skill: Iron Skin.  Even compared to his strength, endurance, and mobility training, this new protocol was intense.  He was not only letting himself die but trying to drag out the experience for as long as possible.  Dom wasn’t trying to defend or dodge attacks, only to ward off a killing blow – to prolong the agony as far as he could.

He sat in Deathhopper nests and let the damn bugs consume him over and over again.  Hundreds of times.  He kept going until he could sit there without dying swiftly – until their little, scythe-like arms only left shallow scratches across his skin, blood trickling down his limbs and staining his beige trousers.

Although, with the time he spent sitting in the nests, Dom had plenty of opportunities to ponder changes in his training regimen.  He’d noticed that his UI often indicated he was suffering from bleeding damage – the damage quite significant until the wound clotted and his natural health regeneration kicked in.  Did that mean the game was treating this as its own damage type?  Could he become more resistant to that sort of damage?  And if so, were there other forms of damage resistance that he could train?

After some experimentation, the answer seemed to be “yes.”

Physical attacks seemed to be broken up into piercing, slashing, and bludgeoning.  There was also bleed damage caused by tears in his skin – the damage variable to the size of the wound and nature of the injury.  Dom was guessing there were also various spell schools, at least if his “affinities” were any indication.  Plus, he’d seen more than a few travelers wielding staves and wands – even witnessed a few kids training by using bands of air to knock down targets back in Aislen.  That might mean he could eventually train his resistance against different forms of magic, although he didn’t have an easy way to tackle that at the moment.

His thoughts had returned to the python, that sickly pink venom that had left him paralyzed.  Could there be even more damage types?  Poison?  Venom?  Paralytics or some sort of control ability?  Mind attacks even?  As soon as he started posing those questions, the possibilities seemed endless, and he was forced to rein himself back in.

For now, he could only train using what he had available – a hostile forest filled with plants and animals.  The Deathhoppers seemed to be using some sort of slashing attack.  But he could probably find something that pierced.  Maybe the clouds of giant, blood-sucking mosquitos?  That could also offer some way to train his bleed resistance.  And as for poisons and venoms, most of the creatures in this hellhole seemed to have some sort of toxic attack, especially the plants.

So, his training shifted.  He let the mosquitos drain him dry.  Let the native plants stab, spit, scrape, and ingest him, their poisons coursing through his veins – alternating between fiery burns, a lingering cold that left him shivering, and a tingling numbness.  And as the effects of his training waned, he just switched enemies.  He was no longer running from his opponents.  He was running toward them, racing headlong into the fray.

It wasn’t long until even the effects of that insane training dropped off.

But he’d still made plenty of progress.

Stat Increases:

+6 Strength

+5 Dexterity

+7 Endurance

+35 Vitality

New Passive Skill:  Poison Resist

There might actually be something wrong with you.  Who poisons themselves on purpose once… much less dozens of times?  Seriously, seek professional help.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 8

Effect:  8.5% Poison Resist

New Passive Skill:  Bleeding Resist

After getting cut, stabbed, impaled, bitten, and ripped apart, your body has adapted.  Your wounds now clot faster, reducing the effect of bleeding damage.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 7

Effect:  8% Bleeding Resist

New Passive Skill:  Hardy

You’ve taken some serious damage.  For real, you’ve died hundreds of times now.  And as a result, your body has grown more resilient, each death coming slower than the last.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  5% Vitality Increase

x10 Skill Rank Up:  Iron Skin

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  +473 Armor.

Effect 2:  +5% Increased Total Armor.

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Strength Training

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 4

Effect:  6% Strength Increase

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Endurance Training

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 5

Effect:  6.5% Endurance Increase

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Sprint

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  11% increased movement speed.

Effect 2:  -12% stamina drain.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Deathwish

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  42% Increased Respawn Speed (Currently 11.6 minutes).

Effect 2:  6% chance to respawn immediately.  Secondary effect currently locked.

***

Which all left Dom standing here now, staring at those markings on the wall.

1000 attempts.  1000 deaths.  An ocean of pain, effort, and relentless dedication evidenced by those tiny scratches that now ran up the wall beside the gate.  A tangible testament to just how far he’d come since that first time he’d blindly stumbled out into the forest.

Dom even respawned immediately sometimes, now that Deathwish had reached Intermediate.  A time or two, he’d only zoned into the casino long enough to wave at the Gambler and Oscar before the ‘Exit’ light flashed on, and he was sucked back into the game world.  That just allowed him to increase his efficiency.  To further reduce his downtime.  To improve faster.

And more importantly, to feel that sensation each time he pushed himself up to and past his limits, as he came back with his heart pounding and skin burning.  He was perpetually chasing that feeling, that brief moment of euphoric catharsis.  In that instant, he couldn’t think about what waited for him back in the real world, his fears a distant thing.

He was simply alive.  And that was enough.

“Hey, you want us to get you strapped up?” Feng offered, the pair of guards working to haul a familiar barrel of water toward Dom.

“Uh, you know what, I’m good,” he answered, shaking his head.  “Think I want to give the circuit a try with no weight this time.  Just see how it feels.”

“Look at you, taking it easy,” Feng quipped with a grin.

“He’s still running out there nearly naked and unarmed,” Chin shot back skeptically.

Dom just shrugged.  “I think I’ll be okay.  Should be pretty easy with no weight…”  He trailed off as he saw the pair staring at him in disbelief.

“Sure.  Anyway, have fun, I guess,” Feng offered finally, letting out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back against one of the barrels.

“And good luck,” Chin added with a shake of his head.

“Thanks,” Dom grunted at the guards, pivoting toward the gate.

He ignored the travelers that gawked at his shirtless form, the muscles in his thighs and back surging.  His eyes were fixed on one of the thin rope bridges before him, the planks swaying in the wind and dense jungle looming just on the other side, a horde of creatures and plants no doubt lurking within its shadowy depths.

Yet he felt no fear as he kicked off, heading across the bridge at a full-on run, the sway and creak no longer bothering him.  Dom only wondered how far he would make it this time, how long he could last before something inevitably cut him down.  Probably not more than 15 or 20 minutes or so was his bet.  Then he’d be sent hurtling back into that dark abyss.  He’d get to experience that fire in his veins once again…

It was addictive.  Consuming.  Better than any drug.

So much so that Dom may not have fully appreciated just how far he’d come.

But unbeknownst to him, the game was about to help him with that.

Chapter 11 - Serendipity

“What the fuck am I doing?” Adrian muttered as he rubbed at the sweat on his brow.  Most of Aislen was rather… moist.  But the air within the jungle was even more cloying and thick.  Only mere seconds had passed before his tunic was already soaked with sweat.

Although, that might have also been nerves.

Adrian crept forward carefully, eyeing each branch and twig and bug as though it might be a death sentence.  In truth, it probably was.  This hadn’t been his first choice, traipsing around this hellhole in search of a crazy masochist.  He’d been hoping to wait beside the gate and catch the guy on his way out of town.  If he died a lot, that should be a good strategy, right?

Wrong.  Adrian stood beside the gate for nearly an hour before the two guards told him that he was making the other travelers uncomfortable.  The way they looked at him as they spoke conveyed a not-so-subtle accusation.  Maybe it was the way Adrian had only accosted the darker-skinned players leaving town…

He’d been quick to explain he was looking for someone, which had led to an enlightening conversation.

Feng and Chin – as they had promptly introduced themselves – were big fans of this traveler.  “Dom” they called him.  Adrian had initially been skeptical as they regaled him with stories about the man.  They seemed more like folktales or myths than actual accounts of a living person.  Death training?  Pull-ups on the bridge?  What sounded like the world’s worst obstacle course?  When they started talking about the damn water barrel, he finally lost it.  There was no way any of that bullshit could be true.

Although, once they showed Adrian what he could only describe as their “death wall,” its wooden surface riddled with marks, he finally began to accept that maybe – just maybe – there was some truth to their stories.  Apparently, this man was real.  And he did seem to have a death wish.

At some point, the guards got around to explaining that Dom transitioned between the town and the forest as he rotated through his training.  He’d just finished his time in town and had ventured off into the forest some time ago.  More than an hour by their recollection, which meant Adrian must have just missed Dom.

A full hour and no respawn.

Even crazier?  Feng and Chin insisted he was still out there.

So now Adrian was creeping through this wet, green hell, flinching at every trill from the branches above him and crunch in the underbrush.  All in the hope of meeting this Dom character before he got himself killed or eaten.  Or both.

Technically, those weren’t mutually exclusive options.

As Adrian pulled another fern to the side, he froze.

Resting just a few feet away were what looked like monkeys, small brown creatures that were picking along the forest floor, harvesting dozens of bulbous orange fruits scattered on the ground.  As Adrian looked on, he saw more in the branches above, shaking the limbs and causing the fruit to topple to the ground.  One of the monkeys cracked a fruit open, revealing a bright yellow flesh that reminded him of a sort of coconut-pineapple hybrid, before burrowing its muzzle into the tender flesh.  There were dozens of the creatures by his count, but they actually looked kind of cute.

Maybe they were vegetarians or something.

Adrian shifted his weight, and a twig snapped underfoot.

All movement stopped as time seemed to freeze, and several dozen pairs of yellowed eyes turned in his direction.  Eyes connected to furry brown bodies.  Eyes centered just overtop a vicious set of fangs, the shiny ivory revealed as the monkeys’ lips pulled back and low growls escaped their throats.  Those didn’t look like the teeth of an herbivore.

“Oh shit,” Adrian managed to mutter.

Then the message his brain was frantically sending to his legs finally arrived.  He set off at a sprint, howls echoing up into the trees behind him as the monkeys announced his presence.  At the sound, a cascade of birds swept up through the branches with a flutter of rainbow-colored wings.  Under other circumstances, Adrian might have stopped to appreciate the sight.

However, he didn’t exactly have time right now.

Not with a horde of monkeys swinging through the branches above him.  A dull thud sounded from his right, and Adrian’s head whipped to the side just in time to see a familiar fruit rebounding off a nearby tree trunk, sending jagged fragments of bark flying and leaving a deep impression in its wake.  A hail of additional missiles followed.  They smashed against the nearby plants even as Adrian raced further into the jungle, weaving from side to side and trying to use the trees as cover.

Serpentine, he told himself.  Serpentine!

That might be enough to allow him to survive until—

He came up short.  Until what exactly?  He ran out of steam and those monkeys beat him to death?  Or worse, he encountered something else?  Was sandwiched between another threat and the horde of killer monkeys hurling Vitamin-C-infused cannonballs at his back?

On the other hand, what was his alternative?  Give up and die?

It was funny the sort of memories that come to you in moments of intense stress.  For just an instant, Adrian could recall his history teacher yammering on about medieval Europe or some shit.  He’d been talking about stoning people to death.  What was it he had said again?  Oh, right… it was a painfully slow death.  Broken bones.  Crushed internal organs.  Blunt force trauma to the face and skull.  It could take more than 20 minutes to die.

Adrian might not have even the semblance of a plan, but that memory was more than enough to push him forward, even as his legs burned, his chest heaved, and his heart beat in time with the thump, thump, thump of the “superfood” smashing down around him.

He was content with just surviving for now…

***

Dom stretched, his hands raised to the sky, reveling in the sensation of the muscles in his shoulders, chest, and back pulling taut.  His skin was slick with sweat, a series of small craters marring the surrounding glade.  Warm sunlight streamed down upon him.  He’d just finished up his last set, hurling a boulder around this miniature field.

The effort was almost enough to allow him to forget the thick cloud of mosquitos that buzzed around him, their needle-like proboscis stabbing at his body.  Many of those pricks didn’t manage to break the skin any longer – not unless they targeted a more sensitive area with less scar tissue.  Under his arms.  His obliques.  His neck.  The insects tended to cluster along these points.  Although, the bleed damage was nominal now that his skills had continued to advance, his natural health regeneration was more than able to compensate.

Either way, this let him multi-task training his stats and Bleed Resistance.

Done with his strength training for the moment, Dom eyed the boulder.  It had been a while since he’d really assessed the effects of his regimen without the added weight of the barrel.  And now that he was rested again, he could probably test his maximum distance.  He stooped, lifting the boulder and rising back to his feet, the muscles in his legs and arms straining.  The rock was nearly three feet across and must weigh several hundred pounds.

He took several rapid steps forward, spun, and released.

The stone sailed through the air, racing a dozen feet or so across the small clearing before slamming into a smaller tree on the other side.  The wood cracked under the pressure, then splintered and began to topple.  Its branches dipped down toward the ground and landed with a thunderous crash that echoed out across the jungle.

At the same time, a prompt appeared in front of Dom.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (-5.6).

Seriously, you’re having more than just a bad hair day right now…

Dom grimaced, swiping aside the notice.

As he’d gained more stats and skill increases, that multiplier just kept getting worse.  At first, he’d actually been receiving massive luck bonuses during his training, especially when he did comically stupid things like sitting in a deathhopper nest.  Now, the multiplier barely seemed to budge unless he strapped himself down with a couple hundred pounds of weight.  Maybe this was the game’s way of telling him that he’d made progress – that the creatures on these first few rock islands weren’t much of a threat to him any longer.

Although, even as that thought crossed his mind, Dom noted that the jungle had plunged into an unnatural silence – no birds chirping nearby.  Even the mosquitos were disappearing, the thick cloud of insects, now engorged with his blood, plunging back into the underbrush.

Now that was strange…

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+1.6).

You probably won’t stumble down the stairs and end up paralyzed.  Maybe.

“What the hell,” Dom murmured to himself.

Yet another prompt popped up almost immediately.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+4.1).

You remember that time your crush actually asked you out?  Well, neither do we.  But you’re still feeling pretty lucky today…

If my luck is increasing, does that mean my odds of survival just plunged? Dom wondered, frowning at the notice.  Yet, he didn’t see anything.

A low growl rumbled from the edge of the glade, a creature sliding out of the shadows.  It looked like a panther, all sleek black fur and dense muscle.  Except this creature must have been 400 or 500 pounds and was easily eight feet long.  Even more interesting, it appeared to have two heads.  And two sets of eyes that met Dom’s, not a trace of fear reflected there, its tongues lapping against twin sets of rather large fangs.

The swish of leaves and snap of branches along the sides of the glade indicated it wasn’t alone either.  This one was just a distraction, its companions likely circling to flank Dom – which explained why his luck had just shot up.  This was the game’s way of telling him that he needed to get the hell out of here.  These guys were just a bit bigger than a mosquito.

But timing was crucial.

Dom stood still, his eyes never wavering from the panther ahead of him, the creature prowling around the edge of the glade.  He gradually lowered himself into a crouch, moving ever-so-slowly to avoid startling the beast.  This moment felt familiar.  The tension.  The adrenaline surging through his veins.  This was just another game.  He was just waiting for the snap of the ball.  The rush of the offensive line.  That split-second where he had to make a decision.

And then it came.

The panther ahead of him curled back its lips in a snarl.  Dark black forms rocketed away from the tree line to Dom’s rear and sides.  Too many to count.  But he saw at least three.  Dom was badly outnumbered, and he was still unarmed.

Still, he didn’t hesitate.  Dom launched himself forward in the same instant, his feet shoving off the ground in a burst of speed that sent him hurtling through the air.  A heavy, dull thump and frustrated snarls erupted behind him as the beasts collided along the spot he’d been occupying only moments before.

Dom kept moving.  He couldn’t afford to slow or stop.  The decoy was already moving forward, anticipating his attempt to flee.  If the creatures were clever, more would be waiting in the jungle around him, evidenced by the way his luck multiplier only kept climbing.  His guess was that last throw and toppling the tree must have alerted this hunting party to his presence.

As the lead panther leaped at him, Dom dropped into a slide, sending up a cloud of dust as he shot under the creature before immediately regaining his feet.  Then he was rushing out into the forest, his legs pumping and the vegetation blurring past him as he pushed up to his max speed.  His thoughts were racing.  He had plenty of stamina, enough to give them a chase – especially with the luck bonus.  But even so, they could still funnel and trap him.  That’s what he would do.

Which meant, he couldn’t run forever.

He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking.  But perhaps it was time to finally test his newfound strength and speed – a more dynamic exercise than just hurling a big rock.  Maybe it was time he tried fighting.  But to do that, he needed to level the playing field a bit.

Dom heard a low growl to his right and just barely dodged into time, a massive form hurtling past.  Its claws caught on Dom’s back, its weight enough to slice through his thick skin and leave blood dripping from the wound.  The force of the blow sent him into a spin, but he recovered quickly, leaning into it, rebounding against a tree, and then kicking off again.  The panther crashed headlong into another tree, the wood splintering and its claws raking at the bark.  More of the creatures seemed to be pursuing him, racing through the underbrush and jumping along the branches overhead, the wood groaning under their weight and a flutter of leaves raining down around him as the beasts abandoned caution.

Yeah, he needed to find a spot where they couldn’t surround him.

Where the tree cover was thinner.

The cliffs!

With a target in mind, Dom pivoted and raced forward.  Yet with each step, his luck multiplier continued to grow, his brow furrowing in confusion as he glanced at his UI.  If he was leading the creatures to the cliff edge, his luck multiplier should be going down as his odds of survival increased.  Or maybe the game was telling him he was boxing himself in?

He shook his head.  It was too late now.  He’d already committed himself.  The edge of the rock island was nearing ahead as he sped forward, pushing himself harder to widen the gap with the panthers that raced along behind him.

As Dom cleared the edge of the trees, the jungle suddenly dropped away, disintegrating into a patch of rocky dirt a few dozen feet across, the stone sweeping up and out over open air to form a raised ledge.  Dom had been here many times.  Had used this stone edifice as a sort of diving board at the end of his sprints – taking the plunge to the forest and rivers that lingered below.  Plus, it had a fantastic view.  Although, it was one he couldn’t appreciate at the moment.

He skidded a halt, pivoting and scanning the forest only for his eyes to widen.

He expected to see the trees shiver from the southeast – the direction he’d just come from.  But he could see movement all along the forest’s edge.  And it sounded like someone was screaming—

A figure suddenly shot out of the tree line to the southwest.  Humanoid.  A flash of velvet and a feathered hat.  The residents wouldn’t venture out here – not alone – which meant that this must be a traveler screaming at the top of his lungs as he sprinted toward Dom, a panicked sound that echoed out across the forest behind him.

And just on his heels was a throng of furry creatures.  There must have been dozens of them.  Maybe hundreds.  The monkeys swung through the branches along the tree line, hurling some sort of orange coconuts at the traveler.  The fruit slammed against the rock ledge as the man weaved from side to side, screaming all the while.  Dom didn’t have a chance to marvel at his lung volume as he saw those fruits send shards of rock flying as they struck the ground.

He could only imagine the damage they’d cause if they hit him.  Although, Dom wasn’t exactly anxious to find out.  At least, not right now.  Maybe later.

Could be a good way to try to train Bludgeoning Resistance later on.

The panthers had finally caught up, crashing through the tree line and skidding out across the stone.  The monkeys immediately noticed the creatures.  Normally, they might have fled in the face of those larger predators.  But they’d already been whipped into a frenzy, now chittering and howling.  Their projectiles shifted targets, hurtling toward the big, black cats.  They struck with dull thuds and whimpers of pain, the panthers growling in frustration.  Several melted back into the tress, likely to circle the monkeys and strike from the trees.

Which left Dom standing there in shock as he witnessed the chaotic scene before him.

The traveler collapsed near his feet, stumbling and dropping to the rock, his chest heaving.  He looked up at Dom, his eyes going wide with a mixture of surprise and recognition.

“What?  Who?  Wait… are you, Dom?” the man gasped.

How the hell does this guy know my name?

Not that it mattered.  They had larger problems.  The monkeys were now attacking the panthers with abandon, hurling their citrus cannonballs, and darting between the branches.  A crack of wood signaled a panther leaping at the creatures, its fangs snatching one and its claws rending through another before it landed on the rock with a dull thud, bright blood dripping from its jaws and claws.  The two battered monkey corpses slumped to the ground beside it.

“Uh, yeah,” Dom replied finally, shaking his head and hauling the other traveler to his feet.

“Well, my name is Adrian.  It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the other man chirped, offering him a hand.  Dom just stared at him like he was mad, his gaze shifting back to the battle raging at the edge of the treeline.

Adrian followed his eyes.  “Oh.  Oh, yeah, this might not be the right time.”

“No shit,” Dom grunted.

“Do you, uh, maybe have a plan for getting out of this situation?  I heard you could survive out here…” Adrian offered hesitantly.

He must have been talking to Feng and Chin then.  Dom let out a sigh.  He didn’t see a way out of this.  The monkeys were losing.  And fast.  Once that fight was over, they’d be cornered by the panthers.  It looked like it was time to just die and reset.  He could test his strength later.  He turned back toward the cliff, stepping up to the edge.

“Hey, wait, what’re you doing?” Adrian asked, grabbing at his arm.

“Dying,” Dom offered, waving at the open air.  “You asked for a plan.  Well, it’s time to fast travel back to Aislen…”

“But I just found you!” Adrian shot back with a frustrated huff.

Dom stared at him.  The man had managed to make it out here somehow.  Maybe he was tougher than he looked?  “Can you fight?  You got a weapon in that case or something?” he offered, gesturing at the bundle strapped to Adrian’s back.  His clothing sure as hell didn’t look like armor, but Dom knew appearances could be deceiving in AO.

The man cocked his head, clutching his case to his chest.  “Err, not exactly.  It’s actually a… guitar…” he offered, his voice trailing off into a self-conscious whisper.

“What was that?  Could have sworn you just said it was a guitar,” Dom grunted.

“Err, because, well, it is,” Adrian replied.

Dom shook his head.  Fucking fantastic.  He’d gotten trapped on this ledge, watching a horde of monkeys and panthers duke it out along the tree line with what might be this world’s most useless companion.  A guitar?  Really?  He started to turn back toward the ledge.  He much preferred the swift death of a fall to being eaten alive by a group of hungry panthers.

“Wait!  What if it gets damaged from the fall!” Adrian said, grabbing at Dom’s arm.  “You don’t know what I had to do to buy this thing.”

“Then why the hell did you bring it out here?” Dom snapped.

“What was I going to do, leave it in town where someone could steal it?”

Dom let out a sigh, rubbing at his temple and eyeing the battle.  The monkeys had already lost the war.  Only one of the panthers had been knocked out, lying in a puddle of its own blood, its body battered and broken.  The rest of the furry brown creatures were now fleeing back into the jungle, chittering angrily at the panthers.  Meanwhile, the cats were circling along the tree line, regrouping, and eyeing the pair, fresh blood now staining their fangs and claws.

Even so, Dom noted with interest that his luck multiplier had dropped back down to x2.5.  That meant his chances were better, even if they weren’t great.  And that change had happened when the wannabe bard showed up – not when the monkeys had fled.  He glanced at Adrian.

Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.

“Fine,” he said under his breath.  “Well, pull that damn guitar out.”

“What?  Why?” Adrian gasped, his eyes going wide.

Dom cracked his knuckles as he stepped in front of the bard and set his feet.  “I don’t know.  Just a hunch.  Maybe you can make enough noise to distract them or something.”  Adrian hadn’t moved.  “Now, or I’ll just toss you over the cliff edge myself.”

Adrian’s eyes went round, then he immediately pulled the case from his back and stooped into a crouch as he released the clasps and pulled his guitar free.  Meanwhile, Dom strode forward, stretching his neck and his arms before bouncing on his toes as he faced off against at least a half dozen oversized, two-headed panthers – their feline eyes glaring at him.  It looked like they were largely uninjured, and the monkeys had mostly just pissed them off.

But Dom’s health was high.  His stamina had nearly recovered already.

And most importantly, the odds were in his favor.

“Let’s go,” Dom growled, his muscles tensing.

The cats all hesitated, waiting.  They couldn’t flank him.  One stepped forward, meeting Dom’s gaze.  The alpha then.  They were waiting for their leader to make the first move.

The attack came hard and fast.  A surge of muscle.  A ripple of fur.

Except this time, Dom didn’t dodge.  He met the charge.

The pair crashed into each other with a surge of muscle, Dom batting aside one of the cat’s heads.  The other clamped down on his shoulder with its fangs, blood welling around the wound and a searing fire rippling through his arm.  But his Iron Skin ensured the bite wasn’t enough to tear the muscle or crack the bone beneath.  The injury was only superficial.

And more importantly, it had given him an opening.

The other head tried to snap at him, but Dom slammed it with his foot, crushing its skull against the rocky ground.  The creature tried to pull it’s other head free.  But Dom held the beast close, wrapping his injured arm around its neck as he punched it in the face with his free hand.  Each blow thundered into the cat’s skull, ripping through its skin, and crunching the bone beneath.  He struck again.  And again.  And again.  Until he felt the cat’s flesh go soft and bones crunch, then something wet and warm coated his knuckles.

Finally, the beast slumped to the ground, unmoving.

Dom stood there, breathing hard, his own blood dripping down his right arm and red notifications flashing in the corner of his UI.  He blinked, bleary-eyed as he surveyed the area, drawing in a sharp breath as he saw that the initial attack had been a feint, creating an opening for another panther to dart toward Adrian.  Its massive body hurtled through the air, muscle rippling with each step.  Then it leaped…

Dom acted without thinking.  He crouched and launched forward, the stone cracking beneath him as he darted through the air, using every ounce of strength he had.  Then, pivoting in the air, he brought his left shoulder forward and slammed into the panther.  The impact blunted Dom’s own momentum, and he dropped safely to the stone, but the cat wasn’t so lucky.  It let out a howl as it lurched to the side, its claws scrabbling at the edge of the cliff – a losing battle.

It soon toppled over the edge of the cliff and plummeted to the ground.

Yet Dom knew more of the panthers were still out there.

He turned back to the tree line just in time for another beast to crash into him.  Off-balance, he was swept off his feet and landed hard against the stone.  Another set of jaws clamped around his injured arm, Dom only managing to stop one of the heads.  Since his skin was already broken, this second blow landed harder.  His blood jetted from the wound, and a roar of pain escaped his lips as he felt bone snap in his shoulder.

He clutched at the ground with his free hand until he found a large rock.  Bringing it up, he smashed it against the cat’s other head repeatedly, crimson droplets raining down around him and staining the stone even as his vision grew blurry and his health dropped rapidly.

He knew it wouldn’t be enough.  Dom was trapped.  Injured.

And more of those panthers were just waiting to pounce.

I’m… I’m not going to make it…

***

Adrian looked up to see a panther laying on the rock, both of its heads caved in, brain matter sprayed across the stone.  Another lying atop Dom, one head burrowed in his shoulder and another trying to snap at his face.  There was blood – so much blood.

Adrian clutched at the neck of his guitar, his knuckles white.  He couldn’t help.  Couldn’t do anything.  Not with this lame piece of wood and string.

These damn panthers were going to eat Dom… and then they would come for him.  Even now, the cats along the rear of the hunting pack were eyeing him hungrily.  Fear slithered through his gut.  He could see it now.  His limbs ripped free.  His blood staining the stone.  He’d likely still be alive as he watched them pull his tender organs free of his ribcage.  He turned back to the cliff edge.  Maybe Dom had been right.  Maybe a swift death was better.  He could just respawn and…

And what?  Even if he respawned.  What then?

It wasn’t like Dom was going to help him if Adrian let him get eaten.

He had to do something.  Anything.  Even if it was futile.  Even if he had no chance.

Besides, he was accustomed to that already, wasn’t he?  Tilting at windmills.  Hoping for an outcome that would never happen.  Apparently, some things were the same – in-game or out.

So, Adrian raised his damn guitar, his fingers trembling as he plucked the first chord…

***

Dom smashed the cat again, its skull finally giving way and the creature going limp.  Although, its bulk then settled against him – dead weight.  He struggled to lift the creature, but he was having trouble getting leverage with only one working arm.

As he looked up, he could see more of the panthers closing in.  His luck multiplier was skyrocketing now – loudly announcing his impending death.  As though he needed some other indication that he was truly and irrevocably fucked.

At least I took down three…

Then a sound crashed down across the ledge.  It was discordant.  Jarring.  A melancholy melody that seemed louder than should be possible, the sound wafting out across the ledge and plunging into the nearby jungle.  And as that sound cascaded through his skull, it resonated with something deeper within Dom.

For just a moment, he could feel a familiar ocean of fear and despair well up in his chest – as though the chains Dom had wrapped around those emotions had been severed.  Memories returned to him.  A claustrophobic white room.  An astringent burn in his nostrils.  Flickering screens, dark masses overlying ivory bone.  The drone of a voice telling him of his impending doom.  He felt like he was drowning, like he couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he tried to suck in air.

In that moment, those feelings crystallized into a series of familiar questions.

“Are you okay?” a white-robed doctor.

“Are you okay?” a young nurse.

“Are you okay?” his roommates’ voice.

“Are you okay?” Feng and Chin this time.

And the answer rebounded through his skull.  It was more raw emotion than actual words.  Anger and rage pushed back at that hurricane of fear and despair that whipped and cut at him.  Fury at his circumstance.  At his situation.  At his bad fucking luck.  Dom clung to that feeling, fed it.  Rode it back to the surface of his thoughts.

He growled, his eyes snapping back into focus.

The cats were hesitating, standing only a few feet away, that discordant song lapping across the clearing.  Their anger morphing into confusion and fear.  Those few precious seconds had allowed his health regeneration to heal his shoulder, the bone setting back into place with a resounded pop.  Dom took advantage of that, heaving the cat’s corpse free and sliding it to the side where it landed with a dull thud.

His limbs groaned and creaked as he rose, veins bulging along his muscles, and blood splattered across his chest.  He squared off against those beasts – those predators – meeting their gaze as his rage surged through his veins.  A vortex of fury spun inside his mind, pushing back at his pain and fear.  That pressure kept building, the product of days – weeks.  It grew until he couldn’t contain it anymore…

“Are you okay?”

He roared his response, his chest heaving.  The force of the shout lifted the dust from the ground, sending it billowing back across the rock, and struck the cats, their eyes widening and their limbs trembling now.  Dom stepped forward, his foot landing hard and the stone cracking.

The panthers moved backward in equal measure.

Dom took another step, his knuckles cracking as he forced them into fists, ignoring the bruises and broken bones and blood dripping from his fingers.  Two corpses lay behind him, creatures several times his size.

In the face of his fury and the fearful cacophony that filled the air, the panthers’ morale finally broke.  As one, they turned and fled into the forest, hundreds of pounds of rippling fur and muscle fleeing into the depths of the jungle.  Leaving Dom standing on the ledge, his chest heaving and blood coating his body while his injuries gradually knitted themselves closed.

And that dissonant song mercifully stopped.

Dom turned to find Adrian staring at him, his gaze shifting back and forth between Dom and the guitar in his hands – hands that still shook with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.  Dom had seen that look before.  Wide-eyed and wild.  Every nerve ending on fire.

In that moment, the strange mixture of emotion that swept over him faded, leaving Dom feeling drained and more fatigued than he normally felt during his workouts.  And with that momentary respite, his gaze settled on that flimsy piece of wood and varnish.

“Huh, that thing isn’t as useless as it looks,” Dom finally grunted

Chapter 12 - Companion

Dom was beginning to think he might have broken the bard.

Adrian had just been slumped against a boulder staring at his guitar for the last few minutes.  He hadn’t even adjusted his hat or smoothed the wrinkles from his velvet-lined tunic.  He just sat there, muttering under his breath and alternating between staring at the corpses of the panthers and caressing his instrument – a shudder occasionally wracking his body.

So, Dom decided to give the two of them some “alone time.”

The upside was that this gave Dom the opportunity to clean up while his health regeneration helped stitch his wounds back together.  Blood and remains often just attracted more of the jungle’s occupants, and he’d had more than his fill of action for the moment.  He could possibly skin the bodies, but he didn’t want to tempt fate.  She’d already proven to be more fickle than normal today.

Besides, he had no idea what to do with panther skins.

He shoved the corpses over the edge of the cliff, watching the bodies tumble over the side and race down to meet the jungle far below.  He tossed the monkey corpses after them, most of the remains little more than torn limbs and bloody fragments.  That left two thick pools of blood and the signs of battle along the edge of the forest, but his luck multiplier was still hovering around zero, which likely indicated they wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention.

Maybe.

Finished clearing the area, Dom finally settled down on a rock and glanced at his UI. He had several notifications that had been flashing in his peripheral vision for some time now.  With a tap of his fingers, a cascade of notices flickered into existence.

x4 Level Up!

You have (20) undistributed stat points.

New Active Skill:  Bull Rush

We heard you were in a rush… and maybe a little bullheaded.  So, here we are.  Sprint and smash to your hearts content.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  20% Increased Impact Force

Stamina Cost:  200

New Active Skill:  Challenging Shout

You ever have one of those days where you just want to bury your head in a pillow and scream your heart out?  Well, good!  Now try it without the pillow…

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  1.5 Second Stun and Increased Aggro.  10 Yard Radius.

Stamina Cost:  200

New Passive Skill:  Unarmed Fighting

You’re clearly a man who likes to work with his hands.  So, why not lean into that?  If you encounter a problem, just punch your damn way out!

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  5% Damage and Speed

New Passive Skill:  Improvisation

Everything can be a weapon in the right circumstances.  Masters of skill are able to use even the most mundane objects and the environment itself to slay their opponents.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  10% Damage Bonus with Random Weapon.

“Huh, I actually leveled,” Dom murmured to himself.  That was a first since he’d logged into AO.  He’d certainly acquired plenty of additional stats and skills, but actual levels?  That was a novel experience.

The stat gain from those levels also indicated just how far his training had taken him.  He estimated that he’d gained nearly 250 stat points already through training.  If he gained 5 stat points per level, then that meant he now had the approximate stats of a level 55.  There were likelyother travelers in the area around Aislen who could surpass that, especially with gear… but probably not many outside the members of <The Jackals>.

Looking over his options, he decided to dump all of his new points in Vitality.  The encounter with the panthers had really driven home how important it was to have a large health pool.  He’d almost died while trapped under that damned panther.

That situation had also highlighted a weakness with his training.  He might be strong, fast, and resilient.  But if he got pinned or disabled, he was basically screwed.  Dom didn’t have any ranged abilities that could help him compensate – at least for now.  And it looked like spellcasting was out with the Gambler’s “gift” of Chaotic Blessing.

Which meant he only had one option.

To get strong enough that his opponents simply couldn’t stop him.

Perhaps the best starting point was his two new skills.  Bull Rush must have been the skill he’d inadvertently used to protect Adrian – sending that panther tumbling over the cliff edge.  That should help with his defensive build, especially if he teamed up with others.  Although, Challenging Shout was possibly even more interesting…

Dom could still remember the feeling that had swept over him when Adrian began playing that melancholy melody.  The image of that small white room.  The sense of despair.  And then that bottomless wellspring of rage.  Even now, he could still feel that anger simmering in his chest as though that encounter had awakened it.  Or maybe it had always been there.  He just hadn’t been paying attention.

He shook away those thoughts.  Regardless, the skill was useful.

But it also implied something else.  If his lungs could produce that sort of shock wave, could he train the ability further?  Or perhaps his underlying lung capacity and breathing?  His eyes darted to the bard.  And what could that sort of training do for someone like Adrian?  Clearly, that crappy guitar was capable of more than strumming out a simple ditty.

That guy could become pretty strong…

Although, right now, Adrian’s face was pale, his skin clammy.  He looked rattled, still muttering under his breath, and strumming weakly at his guitar.  Not that Dom could blame him.  That fight had been intense.  And the bard likely hadn’t undergone Dom’s grueling training.  Perhaps it was easier to shake off the adrenaline after dying 1000+ times.

“Hey, are you o—?”  Dom cut himself short.  He sure as hell wasn’t going to pose that fucking question.  “What was that back there?” he amended.

Adrian’s eyes shot up, and he tried to marshal his composure.  “I… I’m not sure, actually.  I was just trying to figure that out.”

He looked down at his guitar again.  “I learned a new ability – Wailing Despair.”  Adrian shook his head.  “But I don’t get it, I’ve played plenty of songs inside this game, but nothing like that has ever happened before.  Maybe it’s the instrument…”

Dom spared a skeptical glance at the guitar.  It wasn’t exactly in good repair, scuff marks marring the wood.  And one of the pegs seemed to be a makeshift handle from some other tool.  “Uh, I’m not sure about that,” he grunted.  “I’m sorry, but that thing’s a piece of shit.”

Adrian looked at him in horror.  “You mean my sweet, wooden baby?” he asked, cradling the guitar closer.  He whispered to the instrument, “You’re beautiful.  Just ignore him.”

Dom shook his head.  “Sure.  Look, all I’m saying is that thing looks like a normal instrument.  My guess is whatever happened came from you.”

Adrian cocked his head, his eyes going distant.  “It did feel strange.”

“How so?” Dom asked, genuine curiosity getting the better of him.  This was the first time he’d seen another traveler do something magical up close.  Or at least, the first time he’d had the opportunity to ask questions.  Being able to use magic seemed interesting.  He was still a little bitter that the Gambler had stripped that from him without asking.

“Well… I just remember being afraid.  Feeling helpless,” Adrian murmured.  “So, I channeled that into the song.”  His eyes went wide suddenly.  “You don’t think it was the song itself, do you?  I’m not even sure I remember the chords.”  His fingers moved as though he was going to attempt to play again.

“No!” Dom said, reaching forward reflexively.  He didn’t want to repeat that experience, at least not right now.  At a questioning look from Adrian, he took a deep breath and continued in a more measured tone.  “I mean, I don’t think it was the chords.  I think it might have been your emotions.  I think you were pouring them into the song.”

Dom’s eyes dropped to the ground.  “Because I sure as hell felt what you were playing.”

“Huh, damn,” Adrian replied softly.

When Dom looked up again, he saw a broad smile splitting the bard’s face.  “That just means I’m pretty freaking awesome then, doesn’t it?”

Dom raised an eyebrow.  That was a quick turnaround in mood.  “Uh, sure.  I guess you could say that.  Even though you almost died to a horde of monkeys.”  He tilted his head, recalling their brief conversation before they’d taken on the panthers.  “By the way, why are you out here?  And why were you looking for me?”

“Ahh, yes, um,” Adrian began, stumbling over his words.  “Well, I guess I was wondering if you needed a companion?  Or like some help maybe…” he trailed off weakly.

Dom just stared back with a deadpan expression, and Adrian let out a sigh.

“Okay, fine.  This place fucking sucks, alright?” Adrian said, pushing himself to his feet and pacing the area around the ledge.  “We started in the shittiest area imaginable.  That’s not even my opinion.  That’s the general consensus among the players.  They actually ran a poll on the Rogue-Net forums.  Aislen is the #1 worst place to start, according to… well, everyone.  Literally, everything outside of town can kill you.

“What’s even worse?  You can’t even leave!” Adrian declared.  “I couldn’t make it to the next town, even if I tried.  I could possibly get other travelers to help, but everyone has fallen in line behind <The Jackals> – since they’re really the only game in town.  And, of course, they didn’t want yours truly.  They want good little soldiers or more mages to blast away at the beasts out here.  Not a musician with a guitar,” he added lamely, raising the instrument.

“I could try to level.  Except, oh wait, I can’t!  Because I can’t survive out here.  Let’s face it, you’re right.  I almost died to a pack of monkeys hurling fruit!  Forget those two-headed panthers.  I probably couldn’t even take out many of the bugs here,” he muttered, waving at the insects that had begun to clump up around the pools of blood.  “And these are just the starting islands?!  That implies these are the easy monsters.  Who the hell knows what lives on the other islands or in those valleys below us.”

“So, I’m fucking stuck,” Adrian sighed, slumping back down on his rock.

Dom just watched him.  He’d heard the other travelers grumbling about Aislen in passing, but he hadn’t realized how bad it truly was for most players.  It looked like he’d underestimated <The Jackals’> influence.  If they picked a weird class or wanted to go it alone, the other travelers really didn’t have many options.  He could even start to see why he might be seen as such a novelty – why the other travelers whispered when he passed and craned their necks.

“The guild might want you now – assuming you can repeat what you did with that song,” Dom offered tentatively.  “Some sort of fear-based attack would be incredibly useful.  That was probably the only thing that saved us back there.”

Adrian snorted.  “Big assumption there.  They’re pretty close-minded.  They cut me from the tutorial training as soon as I mentioned I wanted to play a bard.”

Dom just shook his head at that.  It seemed his impression of Booker had been right on the money.  The guy’s initial presentation had seemed reasonable and helpful, but, at the end of the day, he was only looking out for himself and his guild.

“So, what is it exactly you want from me?” Dom asked.

Adrian met his gaze finally.  Dom saw fear reflected in his eyes, but also something else.  Determination, maybe?  Enough to encourage a level 1 to venture into the forest on his own.  “I want to know how you’ve survived out here.  How you could take those attacks wearing no armor or weapons.  How you’ve managed to level—”

“That was actually the first time I’ve leveled,” Dom corrected him.

Adrian’s eyes just widened.  “Okay, sure.  Like that.  How is that even possible?  I saw you beat an oversized panther to death with your bare hands.  And now you’re telling me you did that at level one?  With no gear?”  He glanced at Dom’s shoulder, his wounds having long since healed.  “And you didn’t even get hurt that badly.”

The bard paused, taking a deep breath.  “In short, I want you to train me.”

It was Dom’s turn to just stare at Adrian.

Train him?  Hell, he was barely able to handle his own shit, much less take on someone else’s.  He’d launched into his in-game training with a sort of masochistic enthusiasm – using the work and the pain to help himself forget what waited for him in the real world.  He was just burying his head in the digital sand as though that could make the image of that haunting white room go away.  As though that would somehow make his problem disappear…

The bottom line was that he wasn’t in any state to help someone else.

“I’m not sure I’m your guy,” Dom murmured.

“Then who is?” Adrian demanded.  “And it’s not like I’m coming to the table with nothing.  You’re strong, but you’re still alone. You just said it yourself.  You likely would have died without my help with the panthers.  There’s a limit to what you’re going to be able to do alone.  These first islands are fine.  But what about the others?  The valleys below us?” Adrian offered with a wave at the nearby ledge.  “Maybe you could use someone to watch your back.”

Adrian watched him.  “Or do you not want to go further?  To explore more of the jungle?  To maybe escape this damn place eventually?”

Dom grimaced.  There was some truth to the bards’ words.  And more than that, he was starting to ask a question that Dom had been avoiding for days now.  What was his goal here?  So far, he’d only focused on distracting himself – on reveling in the rush of adrenaline and dopamine that each death brought on.  But that wasn’t enough.  The feeling was already beginning to fade each time, growing weaker.

Eventually, he’d need to find a bigger challenge.  A larger high.

Like the one he’d just felt fighting those panthers.

“And besides,” Adrian continued.  “Maybe you could use a more congenial public face for your exploits.”  Dom looked up to see him grinning.  “What?  This surly, mute façade certainly lends you an air of mystery, especially coupled with your size.  You’re the talk of the town.  But you might need someone who can better interface with others.”

“And that’s you, huh?” Dom grunted, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Adrian pressed a hand to his chest.  “Well, of course.  I’m well-spoken, handsome, and I have impeccable fashion sense.”  He cocked his hat at that last part and smoothed his rumpled tunic.  “Seriously, what’s not to love?”

Dom shook his head, chuckling under his breath despite himself.

“Does that hint of a laugh mean you’ll help me?” Adrian asked hopefully.

Dom heaved out a sigh.  “Fine.  Fine, I suppose we can give it a try.”

“Ha, fantastic!  So where and when do we begin?” Adrian asked enthusiastically.

“I wouldn’t celebrate too soon,” Dom interrupted.  “I have a question first.”

He leaned forward, meeting Adrian’s eyes.  The bard swallowed hard, taking in Dom’s shirtless form and chiseled muscle, the scars riddling his body.

“Are you afraid to die?”  Dom asked quietly.

Adrian just stared at him for several long seconds and then said, “Well, yeah.  Of course, I am!  What kind of stupid ass question is that?  I think I almost wet myself when I saw those panthers show up.  And I’m pretty sure I still have some bruises from those monkeys.”  He craned to look at his back, kneading at the muscles.

Dom just shook his head.  “Well, that’s where we start then.  We’re going to have to rid you of that fear if you want to progress.  Or at least teach you to bury it, maybe even embrace it.”

“Uh, okay,” Adrian began slowly.  “But why?”

His conversations with the Gambler were returning to Dom with a vengeance now.  He’d assumed the guy was just an asshole, but maybe that was because he told the unvarnished truth.  That wasn’t always pleasant.  But perhaps it was necessary.

“I have a theory about this place,” Dom began slowly.  He gazed out over the nearby ledge, watching as a school of fish leaped out of one of the rivers far below, their scales reflecting the sunlight as they swam up through the sky.  “I’ve been watching the other travelers while I’m in town.  Those that don’t join the guild often stay put in Aislen.  They take up mundane jobs or tell themselves they’re okay with just being a crafter.  I get it.  It’s the safe choice.  Yet they seem… unhappy.

“I think they’re taking their time for granted – their lives for granted.  We only get so long, in this world or our own.  Yet, they waste those precious hours cowering and tiptoeing around the jungle.  Or maybe they join <The Jackals> and spend that time in a futile battle to create their highway, gradually chipping away at the vegetation, only for it to grow back,” he offered, waving off toward the south where a line of smoke curled up into the air.

“They want to be safe.  Secure,” Dom continued.

He shook his head.  “But that’s not how the world works.  Not here or in our own.”

He gestured at the edge of the nearby jungle.  “I don’t think this forest was meant to be tamed.  I don’t believe this ‘starting area’ was meant to be domesticated or hold our hand.  I think it was meant to allow us to train.”

Adrian looked at him in surprise.  “What do you mean?”

“Travelers within this world can train their stats, just like we do back in our own world.  Strength, endurance, health, agility – all of these stats can be improved without levels.  That also applies to combat.  To damage resistances.  To the new abilities we both obtained during that battle, for example.  Although, there are diminishing returns.  We have to keep escalating the risk and intensity to gain new stats and skills.  But this jungle, it’s the perfect training ground.  It almost seems like it’s been designed for it.  To help us overcome those hurdles.

“Do you know how many different species live here?” Dom asked.  “How many types of poisons and venoms they use?  How many creatures bleed, or cut, or pierce, or bludgeon?  How many are blazingly fast?  Slow but incredibly strong?  Armored?  And then there’s the terrain.  Massive mountains, sprawling jungles, tall trees, deep rivers…

“Almost limitless potential for training.”

Dom looked up to see Adrian eyeing him skeptically.  “Are you trying to say that you could fight those panthers with your bare hands because you did some pushups?”

“More than a few,” Dom replied evenly, rising to his feet.  Of course, the bard wouldn’t believe him – not at first.  “But your training doesn’t start there.”

Adrian followed his lead, pushing himself upright.  “Then where does it start?”

Dom tapped his forehead.  “Here.  That fear of death.”

“Uh, okay.  But not sure I’m going to stop being afraid overnight…”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Dom answered with a shrug.  “But fear is just like anything else.  You can train yourself to withstand it – to ignore it.  And that’s where your instruction starts.  Are you ready?” Dom asked.  “This isn’t going to be pleasant.”

Adrian swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists, his gaze drifting to his guitar where it rested on the nearby boulder.  When the bard raised his eyes to meet Dom’s, he only saw determination there – a resolve hardened by his recent encounter.

“Yes, yes I am,” Adrian declared confidently.

“Good,” Dom replied with a nod.  “Then let’s start lesson one – learning how to die.”

“Wait, what—?” Adrian began, but he never got a chance to finish.

Dom’s arm moved forward in a blur of motion, pressing his palm flat to Adrian’s chest… and then giving him a push.  The force was more than enough to send the bard stumbling backward.  His foot soon struck empty air, and he toppled over the ledge, a scream tearing from his throat as he plunged down to the jungle below.

“I’ll see you at the gate when you respawn,” Dom called down after him.  Then he watched him complete his fall, the bard screaming all the way to the bottom, the seconds ticking past with painful slowness, punctuated by a muted thud and a sudden silence.

“On the plus side, this should also help him increase his lung capacity,” Dom noted to himself.  Then he turned, eyeing the guitar resting on the nearby boulder.  With gentle hands, he lifted it, set it back in its case, and pulled the strap over his shoulder.

He’d have a while until Adrian respawned – at least until he obtained Deathwish.  In the meantime, Dom would get back to doing what he did best.

Training.

Chapter 13 - Tutoring

Adrian lurched back into the game world and immediately sunk to the ground, hard stones digging into bone.  Although, he could barely acknowledge the sensation.  His chest heaved, his breath coming in frantic gasps – his fingers balled into white-knuckled fists.

He’d never died before, which seemed like a silly revelation.  Most people hadn’t.

But even though this was a game and he knew his death wasn’t permanent, he’d been terrified of the prospect.  He’d heard the horror stories.  He’d seen the members of <The Jackals> respawn in that beginning courtyard – pale as a sheet and clutching at their limbs.  Those were warnings not to stick his neck out.  To take the cautious path.

So, he’d avoided taking any unnecessary risks, basking in the relative safety of Aislen. And even when he’d eventually ventured out into the jungle looking for Dom, he’d managed to survive – outrunning those damn monkeys and then helping Dom subdue the panthers.

He’d been so careful.  He’d done everything right.

Until now.  Until he’d been pushed.

He shuddered, his back spasming as he recalled the impact.  The way his feet had struck the ground with dreadful crunch, his ankles snapping… then his knees.  The force had rippled up his spine in a wave of pain.  Yet that hadn’t been the worst part.  No, it was the way he’d seen it coming.  The way the ground seemed to race up to meet him – his death looming and inevitable.

He’d panicked.  Screamed.  Raged.  Desperately sought a way to escape…

But he hadn’t been able to do fuck all about it.

Although, as the horror gradually receded, Adrian’s breathing slowed, and his hands stopped trembling, a new worry rippled through his mind…

My guitar! Adrian suddenly realized.

Dom had been holding it when he shoved him over that cliff.  He’d even shouted something down at him, although Adrian hadn’t managed to hear him over his own screams and the howl of the wind.  He’d probably been taunting him.  He’d even had the gall to wave the instrument at him.  Maybe Dom’s explanation had all been bullshit.  Some sort of ruse to distract Adrian while he stole the only thing of value he owned.

“Teach me my ass—” Adrian cut himself off as a dark hand suddenly appeared in front of him.  And as Adrian looked up, he discovered it was attached to a familiar figure who stared down at him with that same stoic expression.  And in his other hand, he held Adrian’s guitar case…

“You want some help up?” Dom asked.

Adrian blinked.  Blinked again.

He’d completely forgotten what he’d been so angry about a moment before.

His sole attention was riveted on the case in Dom’s hand.

Then he shook off his shock and accepted Dom’s grip.  The other man hauled Adrian back to his feet in a smooth, effortless motion.  And suddenly Adrian’s case was jammed back into his hands.  Adrian opened it gingerly and inspected every inch of his baby, although it looked like it was in great condition.  Or, well, good.

Okay, fine.  The guitar had already been beat to shit.

He probably couldn’t even tell if it had been damaged.

“Did the bad man hurt you?” he whispered to his instrument.

“And he’s talking to his guitar again,” Dom muttered under his breath.  “You know, it’s not the first time I’ve seen you do that.  And I’ve known you for like half an hour.  Just sayin’.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been traumatized.  I’m probably in shock.  And this time it’s your fault!  You pushed me off a damn cliff,” Adrian said a bit louder than he intended, his voice carrying across the beginning courtyard and drawing the attention of a few new travelers who glanced over with puzzled expressions.  He also suddenly realized he was stabbing his finger in the face of a man he’d seen punch an oversized, two-headed panther to death.

Adrian gingerly pulled his hand back and cradled his guitar.

Dom just stared at him with a deadpan expression.  “Well, your guitar is fine.  You can just check the item’s durability.  It was already in pretty rough shape—”

Adrian hugged his instrument closer.  “Ssssh, she’ll hear you.”

Dom raised an eyebrow.  “Is it possible you landed on your head?”

Adrian grimaced, glaring at Dom.  “No,” he snapped.  “I landed feet first, actually.  Speaking of which, what the hell was that anyway?  I thought you said you were going to train me?  Not push me to my death.”  The bard struggled to control his anger.

Dom just shrugged.  Shrugged!  At his brutal death.  No, murder.  Adrian had definitely just been murdered – betrayed by his new teammate and mentor.

“I was training you,” Dom explained calmly.  “If you want to get stronger, first you need to learn how to die.  Do it enough, and you’ll probably get a skill – one that lowers the respawn timer further.  You’re going to need that in order to train effectively.  Didn’t I mention that?”

Adrian was grinding his teeth now.  “I do seem to recall you mentioning something like that just before you shoved me, although you didn’t exactly elaborate.”

“Well, my bad then,” Dom said with another shrug.  “Anyway, you ready to go again?”

Adrian just stared.  “Go… again?”

“You need to die again.  Probably a hundred times or so.”

Adrian blinked.  He held up a hand, speaking quickly, “Uh, do we really have to?  I mean, the jungle is a long way away, and I’m sure we could find something else—”

“Huh,” Dom interrupted, cocking his head, “now that you mention it, you might be right.”  Adrian began to smile, letting out a small breath of relief.  Dom rubbed at his chin.
“We would waste a lot of time walking to the jungle.  I can just kill you right here!”

Adrian accidentally sucked in air, coughing and gasping as his hands reflexively clutched his guitar case.  “That’s actually not what I—”

That was as far as he made it before Dom’s fist slammed into his skull, sending Adrian’s head crashing into the cobblestones.  Between what was almost certainly a concussion, a very loud ringing in his ears, and what felt like his own brain matter leaking out onto the ground, he could just barely make out shouts of alarm rippling across the courtyard.  Although, it was difficult to concentrate on that with the way his world had suddenly gone horizontal – and the strange wet, warm sensation under his cheek, a pool of red liquid drifting across the cobblestones.

Blood.  That’s blood, Adrian realized belatedly.  My blood—

Metal screeched in the background as though several people were drawing their weapons, punctuated by all of that irritating shouting – which only made Adrian’s headache worse.  Dom’s voice rose over the din even as darkness encroached on Adrian’s vision, but he only caught fragments of the conversation.  “No, it’s fine…  Don’t call the…  He wanted me to kill him!”

“What… what’s going?” Adrian slurred, his words coming out garbled as his jaw refusing to obey his commands.  He also couldn’t lift himself upright.  That was troubling.

Dom glanced down at him, his brow scrunching.  “Huh.  You’re still alive.  I should punch you a little harder next time, I guess.  Don’t worry.  I’ll help you out.”  Dom lifted his leg, his foot looming above Adrian.

The bard’s eyes went round.  He feebly tried to raise his arm, but it barely budged.  “No, don’t!” he tried to bite out, but his jaw wouldn’t oblige again.

Broken, he realized.  Ahh, fuck…

Then Dom’s foot finished the job with a crunch of bone, and Adrian sunk into a merciful, painless darkness, the abyss broken only by a single, now-familiar blue notice.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

***

Dom was a little confused.  When he respawned, Adrian had insisted on switching up their training routine, despite coming up with a clever way to save time.  He made an impassioned and somewhat compelling case that while Dom pummeling him to death every time he respawned might technically be a faster way to obtain Deathwish, he still needed to increase his base stats – which meant he was better off dying while undergoing endurance and mobility training.

The argument made sense.  And besides, Dom didn’t want to have to explain why he kept beating another traveler to death in public.  Apparently, the other players were a bit sensitive to sort of thing.  Maybe it was the way he’d caved in Adrian’s skull that last time…

Regardless, the pair decided to venture out into the jungle again, handing off Adrian’s “baby” to Feng and Chin for safekeeping before plunging into the wet, green gloom – only taking the bridges less traveled.  It was at this point that Dom began to fully appreciate the power of Chaotic Blessing.  That luck multiplier had actually allowed him to survive for quite a while when he first began his training.

Adrian had no such luck.  Literally.

Which meant he died to practically everything.

Although, the bard might have also been at least partly to blame for that.

The guy talked.  A lot.  So, many of his deaths ended like this:

Attempt 1:

(Thirty seconds after crossing the bridge.)

Adrian: “This place really is kind of beautiful.  Like, look at this flower…”

(Flower spits acid into his eyes.)

Adrian: “Oh, gawd!  Oh, sweet, merciful gawd!  I think I’m blind!”

(He promptly stumbled over a cliff before Dom could put him out of his misery.)

(He screamed the entire way down.)

Attempt 19:

Dom: “You should stay behind me.”

Adrian: “Why?  Last time, nothing was on this trail.  And did you see these glowing rocks—"

(A panther pounced on him from a low-hanging branch.)

Adrian: “Ahh!  Is that my intestine?  How am I even still alive?”

(He somehow survived for a full minute.)

(A very loud minute.)

Attempt 37:

(Adrian walked behind Dom, talking to himself)

Adrian: “Okay, this time, I’m going to be careful.  I’m going to stay behind Dom.  I’m going to watch my surroundings.  I’m not going to sniff the flowers.  Or actually anything with bright colors.  Hell, if it’s interesting enough to take a picture of it – it can definitely kill you.  Ha!  That’s actually pretty good…  Hey Dom, I think I just invented the Photograph Rule—”

(Adrian tripped over a root and bashed his head against a tree trunk.)

(He then fell into a small pond where he was promptly drained dry by a swarm of leeches.)

(They were bright pink.)

By the time Adrian’s death count crossed 50 or so, that began to change.  He still chattered away as they ran their usual circuit, but he was running faster and lasting longer – the cumulative stat and skill increases beginning to add up.  He even managed to avoid a few near-deaths, which Dom noted as a marked improvement.

After attempt 100, Adrian’s demeanor began to change, although he didn’t seem to notice.  He no longer respawned in a panic.  Instead, he began meeting Dom at the gate after he finished his own training while waiting out the bard’s respawn timer.  Adrian also stopped hiding behind Dom or cautiously peaking around every tree trunk and bend in the trail.  He still died, of course, but when he did get caught by the wildlife, he didn’t scream or writhe.  He just found a way to end it faster.  Jumping off a cliff.  Diving into deathhopper mounds.  Even using the plants.

Their pace continued to quicken, and each run began to last longer.  After seeing his stat and skill gains, Adrian even began to take the lead, despite the dangers that loomed all around him.  He took increasing risks, edging close to acid-spitting flowers or jumping over a deathhopper nest.  He started to run toward his death instead of cowering from it.

And at attempt 200…

Adrian finally obtained Deathwish.

Dom had a working theory for why it had taken the bard so much longer to acquire the skill.  He was starting to think it wasn’t about just about the raw number of deaths.  Or even the manner of death.  It was about the person’s mindset.  It was about their own fear.

After his very first death, Dom had begun to embrace his own mortality.  He actually began to look forward to that hum of adrenaline that came with each death.  That overwhelming sense of catharsis.  The relief that came from being unable to think about his plight back in the real world, even for just a few, pain-filled minutes.

For Adrian, that process had just taken longer.  He lacked the same motivation.

Although, Dom would have gladly traded places with him.

However, once he’d acquired Deathwish, Adrian’s training improved by leaps and bounds.

They ran the same protocol Dom had developed.  Although, it was streamlined by his own trial and error over the days and weeks he’d spent in-game.  Adrian began alternating strength and mobility training.  Sprinting through the forest as fast as he could until his stamina was drained, then dying.  Or doing calisthenics by the bridges, gradually transitioning to lifting boulders and barrels before plunging over the side of the cliff… only to repeat the cycle again.

And again.

And again.

Courtyard.  Gate.  Bridge.  Jungle.  Death.

Courtyard.  Gate.  Bridge.  Jungle.  Death.

And with each attempt, he grew stronger.  Faster.  Survived longer.

Until he was keeping pace with Dom.  Until Adrian no longer shied away from the wildlife.  Until his fear of death had been fully quashed, replaced with a burning determination.  He could see the changes for himself, despite the challenge.  Which only started to motivate him to push harder.  To see how far he could reach.

Dom could certainly feel him there.

As they progressed, Dom also noted changes in Adrian’s body.  His arms grew denser, lean, rope-like muscle now covering his slender frame.  When he kicked off, he sped forward in a blur of motion.  His skin thickened after being repeatedly cut and scraped and torn open.  Even his bone density seemed to improve, fewer injuries now incapacitating the bard.

Observing these changes, Dom couldn’t help but start to think about the future.  Adrian had been right – Dom couldn’t go it alone, not forever, anyway.  He needed a team.  And the members of that team needed a certain threshold of physical training to ensure they had sufficient speed, endurance, and resilience.  However, to work as an effective unit, eventually, they would need to specialize.  Dom was already filling a sort of “tank” role with his damage resistance, strength, and luck.

Adrian wasn’t nearly as strong as Dom, and his tolerance for training damage resistance wasn’t high.  To the bard’s credit, that training could be excruciating and but for his personal circumstances, even Dom might not have been able to handle it.  But Adrian didn’t need to match Dom.  The bard would likely be playing more of a support role with his guitar – assuming he could learn more songs, of course.  They’d left the guitar with Feng and Chin for now while Adrian focused on his physical training.  Yet, long term, he likely wouldn’t be fighting directly.  Instead, he’d playing his instrument from the rear to assist Dom.

Which meant he just needed to be able to avoid getting hit.

And he’d also need to be able to multi-task between playing and moving.

So, Dom began tweaking his training regimen.

He altered their circuit, ensuring that they always crossed the monkeys’ domain at the beginning of their lap.  He then forced Adrian to slow down and alert the monkeys to his presence – resulting in an inevitable hail of hard-shelled fruit.  At this point, the projectiles barely hurt Dom, leaving only bruises.  But that wasn’t the case for Adrian, each impact forming a massive welt.  A blow at the wrong angle could fracture bone, cause internal hemorrhaging, or leave him with a concussion.  He died more than once, buried under a not-so-small mound of fruit.

But after the first few dozen tries, Adrian began to improve.

The bard became even faster and more nimble, focusing exclusively on leveling his Dodge and Sprint skills.  Dom also added more mobility drills to his routine, tying weights to his legs and ankles, which helped improve his Strength and Dexterity.  And once he was regularly surviving the monkeys until his stamina ran out, Dom forced him to start bringing along his “baby” during their training sessions.  At first, the bard struggled to dodge while holding the unwieldy instrument – often prioritizing protecting his guitar over himself.

However, after another 50-100 attempts, Adrian had begun to attempt playing while moving, no small feat by any means.  He stumbled a few times.  Died a lot.  But by the time Adrian crossed his 600th death, he could play reasonably well while moving – even if he still tended to prioritize saving his instrument over his own life.

In the meantime, Dom hadn’t been slacking in his own training.

Once Adrian could keep up with his pace, he often went on their runs carrying his water barrel, continuing to increase the weight each time.  Dom even began to haul logs behind him, lashing them to his waist with ropes.  After Adrian died, he would practice using Bull Rush repeatedly – often while carrying or hauling a lot of weight, which helped gradually increase the force of that attack.

However, strength alone wasn’t enough.

After their encounter with the panthers and his use of Challenging Shout, Dom had realized he’d been somewhat delinquent in his own training – or perhaps just short-sighted.  What had made that shout possible?  It hadn’t just been his emotional state.  It had to be a function of the sort of insane strength and endurance training he’d been doing, those activities strengthening the muscles around his lungs and diaphragm.

In which case, he could train that directly, which he theorized should improve his shout as well as his lung capacity, blood oxygen saturation, and cardiovascular endurance.  So, while he was waiting on Adrian to respawn, he ran some tests.  He practiced diaphragmatic breathing, starting with placing his own hand on his chest and swiftly increasing the resistance each time.  Before long, he was placing a boulder on his chest.

When he saw how quickly those exercises improved his stamina consumption and burst movement, Dom added those new protocols to Adrian’s training.  If Dom could benefit from expanded lung capacity, it would be essential for the bard, who would likely need to play, run, dodge, and sing simultaneously.  And Adrian proved to be exceptional at it – his vocal training back in the real world carrying over to AO.  He even began to tweaking Dom’s protocol and adding new exercises.

AO lacked the sort of monitoring equipment needed to measure his progress accurately.  For example, Dom couldn’t easily measure his expiratory pressure or lung volume.  But luckily, the game had a way to compensate for that.  Mostly with skill and stat notifications.

Stat Increases:

+11 Strength

+15 Dexterity

+24 Endurance

+8 Vitality

New Passive Skill:  Breathing Techniques

Breath… just breath.  Good.  Now, just learn how to do it better, faster, and stronger.

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2

Effect 1:  10.50% reduced stamina consumption.

Effect 2:  6% increased force to physical abilities.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Iron Skin

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  +589 Armor.

Effect 2:  +7% Increased Total Armor.

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Hardy

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 5

Effect:  +7% Vitality

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Sprint

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  12% increased movement speed.

Effect 2:  -14% stamina drain.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

x11 Skill Rank Up:  Bull Rush

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2

Effect 1:  31% Increased Impact Force

Effect 2:  11% Increased Impact Area

Stamina Cost:  300

x12 Skill Rank Up:  Challenging Shout

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  1.5 Second Stun and Increased Aggro.  16 Yard Radius.

Effect 2:  11% Increased Threat

Stamina Cost:  300

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Deathwish

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  44% Increased Respawn Speed (Currently 11.2 minutes).

Effect 2: 7% chance to respawn immediately.  Secondary effect currently locked.

After the levels from killing those panthers and the training with Adrian, Dom had advanced quite a bit – even if some of his training was slowing down – a function of both the number of things he needed to train, the time spent helping Adrian, and natural diminishing returns.

He would just have to keep escalating to see improvements.

However, his Character Status was starting to look impressive… for a level 5 anyway.

Character Status

Name:

Dom

Gender:

Male

Level:

5

Class:

Race:

Human

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Fame:

1,000

Infamy:

0

Health:

1860.4

H/Sec:

8.50

Mana:

145

M/Sec:

1.00

Stamina

1745.3

S/Sec:

16.75

Str

110

Dex

70

Vit

92

End

115

Int

10

Will

10

Lck

10

Affinities

Dark:

6%

Light:

5%

Fire:

3%

Water:

1%

Air:

17%

Earth:

1%

Although, as Dom and Adrian continued to progress, they began to face a familiar problem.  At first, Dom’s luck multiplier had stayed relatively neutral, likely averaging the risk to Dom and Adrian now that they had banded together.  However, as Adrian improved and Dom’s skills and stats continued to increase, that multiplier began to reach zero and then invert.

Which meant the pair’s luck was about to run out…

Chapter 14 - Rematch

“I’m not so sure about this plan,” Adrian commented.

The pair walked a narrow path that circled one of the rock islands outside of Aislen, the trail spiraling down into the valleys that lingered between the mountains.  Dom’s guess was that the native creatures had carved this trail over time, wearing away at the jungle’s dense vegetation.  Despite the slender path and the wind that whistled past, Dom carried his barrel on his back, loaded down with water.  Even Adrian had regularly begun adding weights to his routine, strapping them to his legs and back.

Dom just shrugged in reply.  “Not much choice.”

He eyed the luck multiplier in the corner of his UI.  It had been dropping steadily as he and Adrian trained.  At first, the bard’s minuscule stats and lack of skills had provided a luck bonus – as though the game averaged their “luck” across the group.  But as Adrian survived longer and grew stronger, the multiplier had plummeted.  Right now, Dom wouldn’t be surprised if the trail collapsed below their feet.

“Sure.  Because of this luck multiplier thing?” Adrian commented, eyeing him skeptically.  “I looked online.  No one has heard of this Chaotic Blessing ability – much less losing all your mana.  Only some weird desert nomads way north of here have experienced something similar.”

Dom glanced over his shoulder at the bard.  “Well, it’s no joke.  The last time it dropped this low, we almost got eaten by panthers… and I met you, didn’t I?”

Adrian placed a hand to his chest in mock offense.  “You wound me, sir. I’ll have you know I’m instrumental to this group.”

Dom groaned, “One more pun and I swear I’m going to help you fast travel to the bottom of this mountain.”  This just earned him a chuckle from the bard.  Such threats no longer fazed Adrian.

Even as he spoke, Dom’s eyes turned to the horizon.  Adrian’s jabbering aside, he couldn’t help but marvel at their view.  The sun shone down brightly, and puffy white clouds were drifting lazily through the air, pushed along by the stiff, perpetual winds that blew through these mountains.  And below them, a river wound through the forest, splitting an ocean of green with its sparkling water.  Brightly colored birds and schools of flying fish swept around them, creating dizzying patterns as they spiraled and danced through the air.

With a sight like this, you could almost forget just how dangerous the place was.

Almost.

“Okay, fine,” Adrian spoke up again.  “No more puns.  But you’ve gotta give me something here.  This mute, stoic warrior thing you’ve got going on is a cool look – gets us a lot of attention from the noobs back in town – but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t get boring out here.”

Dom just grunted in response.

“See?  Like that!  I’d even take mono-syllabic responses over these wordless grunts and snorts.  Hell, I’ve told you basically my entire life story—”

“Didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Which you loved—”

“Hated,” Dom grumbled.

Adrian kept going, ignoring him.  “And in return, I’ve gotten practically zero information about you.  Like who is Dom?  This enigmatic masochist?  I bet there’s a great story here.  Maybe military – given your training and experience?  Oh, or maybe you’re a secret assassin.  Recruited in college to join the CIA?”

Dom just sighed as Adrian jabbered away.  Most of their conversations were a bit… lopsided?  But the truth was that Dom didn’t really want to answer any of those questions.  He didn’t want to think about his real life let alone talk about it.  What waited for him back in the real world.  The obligations he’d let languish.  The calls and texts that had gone unanswered.  The classes he’d missed.  Or his dingy, dark room filled with empty bowls and dirty clothes and forgotten textbooks.

He knew his roommates were getting worried.  Even with the time compression in-game, a week had passed in the real world already. They’d probably even passed along their concerns to his coach by now.  Dom wasn’t stupid.  He knew he couldn’t run from all of that shit.  Not for forever, anyway.  But he was hoping he could bury his head for just a little while longer – each real-world day stretched out to roughly four inside the game.

“Dom?  Hey, earth to Dom?”

He shook his head.  “What?” he grunted.

“This is what I mean?  Where did you just go?  You do that a lot, you know – zone the hell out,” Adrian added from behind him, a note of concern entering his voice.

Dom winced.  Maybe he needed to give the bard something – if only to push him off the scent.  The last thing he wanted was for Adrian to start looking at him like his roommates.  Those glances full of confused pity…

“I’m just not comfortable talking about my life,” Dom answered.  “I’m a private guy.”

“Okay.  Then let’s limit it to the game,” Adrian retorted with a shrug.  “We can start with some softballs.  Like what do you do while you’re waiting for your respawn timer?  Personally, I’ve been reading the forums and watching in-game videos.  Have you seen this guy Jason, by the way?  Just fucking crazy.  He took out a whole city solo…”

Adrian finally took a breath.  “Anyway, so what do you do when you die?”

Dom rubbed at his neck.  “Nothing that crazy.  I typically just workout in the casino.”

The long pause that followed that statement quickly informed Dom that something was wrong.  He turned, glancing over his shoulder to find Adrian staring at him quizzically.

“Uh, what casino?”

Shit, Dom thought to himself.  Was that a weird response?

It was his turn for his brow to furrow in confusion.  “What do you mean?  When I die, I always respawn in a casino run by some grumpy jerk that calls himself the Gambler.”

Adrian shook his head.  “The Gambler, huh?” he murmured to himself.  “So, you like start in a separate zone?  You can move around?  Are their NPCs?”

Dom slowed, glancing at the bard again.  He held up a hand.  “Wait, slow down.  What happens when you die?”  He’d really never thought to ask.  He’d just assumed everyone went to some sort of special, instanced area or something.

Which was starting to feel like a really dumb assumption.

Adrian raised an eyebrow.  “I just see a replay of my death over and over and over.  I can’t really move or interact with anything.  Just stand there and have my nose rubbed in my shame.  From what I’ve been reading, that’s the norm,” he continued, swiping at the air and pivoting a screen toward Dom – revealing a forum post describing the in-game deathscape.

“Huh,” Dom murmured as his eyes skimmed the text.  Then he just shrugged and kept walking.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  I show up in a casino.”

“Aren’t you curious about that?” Adrian demanded.  “Like why something different happens to you?  Between your weird luck skill, lack of mana, and now this…  It just seems odd.”

“It’s strange, but so is this game,” Dom offered noncommittally.

“Okay, let’s frame it in a way you can understand then.  What if you could figure out how to invite people to this casino?  Like you can train there, right?  That gives you a big edge over other people – it’s more efficient.  They’re just stuck in a replay loop where they can’t do anything.  Like what if I could start there?  I could really accelerate my training.”

Dom cocked his head.  “That’s… I guess that makes sense.”

“No kidding,” Adrian shot back with a chuckle.  “Maybe you could ask this Gambler guy about it?  It sounds like he could probably give you more info on what’s going on.”

That wasn’t a terrible idea.

Although, Dom could see they were arriving at the bottom of the trail, their sprawling view now replaced with a thick green wall of trees and plants.  The sight of the jungle was an almost welcome relief – at least it gave him an excuse to dodge these questions he couldn’t answer.

Dom squatted down, pulling loose the ropes that kept his barrel bound in place, the wood creaking as it settled against the ground with a slosh.  “Well, those questions can wait.  We have some exploring to do.  You should drop your extra equipment,” Dom instructed Adrian.

“Sure, but why are we dropping our stuff?” Adrian asked as he moved to follow Dom’s lead.

“We don’t know what creatures live down here.  This area could be more dangerous than the islands above us,” Dom replied.  “And there’s no sense damaging any of this equipment.  Worst case, we can just die and come back to collect it.”

Adrian cocked his head.  “I guess that makes sense.  Our luck multiplier improving?”

Dom glanced at his UI, frowning as he noticed the multiplier hadn’t budged.  “No… not really,” he murmured.  That punched a hole in his theory.

“Well, maybe this’ll be a cakewalk then—”

Adrian was cut off as a piercing sound rippled through the jungle, echoing out across the dense vegetation, and causing the trees and plants to tremble, flocks of birds and fish racing up into the air.  The pitch was much higher than the panthers – lacking the throaty growl of a typical predator.  It almost sounded like the cry of some sort of bird.  Although, one thing was clear.  Whatever the hell had just made that sound was massive.

And it was relatively close by.

Dom turned to see Adrian looking at him with wide eyes.

“Huh, I wonder what made that sound.  You wanna go check it out?” Dom asked.

“Not even a little bit,” the bard replied immediately.

Adrian stared at him a moment longer. “Wait, you’re serious?  You want to go find whatever just made the entire jungle shake?  And you do hear that, right?  The bard placed a hand to his ear in an exaggerated gesture.

Dom just shook his head.  He didn’t hear anything now.

“Exactly!  It’s super quiet.  Too quiet.”

Adrian was right.  Not a whisper drifted through the forest now.  And that could only mean one thing, the creatures here were terrified of whatever had made that cry.  That spoke of a predator – one far more dangerous than anything they’d encountered before.  But that also meant the possibility for more training and an opportunity for Dom to push himself to his limits.  To feel that high that came with each grueling death.

So, he shrugged off the last of his bindings and started toward the forest.

“This is going to end horribly,” Adrian muttered from behind him, but Dom could make out the soft thump of his footsteps following.

“Probably,” Dom replied over his shoulder.  “But just think of it as revenge for having to listen to your entire life story.”

“Shit!  Was that a joke?” Adrian shot back.  “I didn’t even know that possible.  Our luck must really be turning around.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dom’s throat, his knuckles cracking as his fingers curled into fists.  Indeed, with every step they took, he could see their luck multiplier gradually begin to tick upward.  It seemed they were finally about to find something interesting.

***

It only took them a few minutes to find the source of the noise, their legs beating a rhythmic drumbeat through the near-silent jungle.  No plants leapt out to attack them.  No birds twittered on the nearby branches.  Nothing crawled out of the undergrowth to observe their passage.  It was as though the entire forest was holding its breath.

However, they slowed as the tree cover ahead began to thin.

“What the actual fuck is this?” Adrian whispered.

Dom could only shake his head.

At first, he’d assumed the trees were thinning naturally, possibly forming a glade.  But as they crept forward and the jungle gave way to an open clearing, Dom could see that it was anything but ordinary.  Instead, it had been created by… well, something.  Something large enough to knock down entire trees and shove them up against the surrounding forest, creating a miniature wall of timber, branches crisscrossing and riddled with holes.

And the clearing itself was even more odd.  It was almost perfectly circular, the ground cleared of debris.  Only stumps lingered in that empty field, the wood cracked and shorn off at jagged angles.  Although, there was no sign of whatever had created the open space.  In the very center, the broken ground rose up to form a shallow hill.  It almost looked like a—

“Is that a nest?” Adrian asked.

“I don’t know.”  Dom grabbed at the wall of wooden debris.  “But I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Adrian’s hand was on his arm in an instant.  “Are you sure about this?” the bard asked.  “I mean, we’ve done some crazy ass shit together.  But whatever did all this, it’s definitely out of our league.  And if that’s a nest, at least one parent is bound to come back.”

Dom raised an eyebrow as he glanced over his shoulder.  “What?  Are you scared to die?”

The bard winced, breathing in deeply through his nose, yet he stayed quiet.

That silence was all the answer Dom needed, and he pushed his way through the wall of timber, walking calmly across the open field.

Adrian stared at his back, shaking his head.  “Maybe his crazy is contagious,” he muttered as he grudgingly set off after Dom.

The pair were soon walking across the open clearing.  Up close, the destruction was even more incredible.  It almost looked like someone had bulldozed the whole area.  The trees alone must have easily weighed 20-30 tons.  For a living creature to accomplish all of this…  It just seemed impossible.

As they neared the center of the glade and crested that shallow hill, a new surprise was waiting for them.  Eggs as tall as Dom rested in a tight circle, the dirt pushed up against them to hide them from sight and keep them in place.  There were at least a dozen.

“Okay, this is a terrible idea,” Adrian muttered, eyeing the edge of the clearing.  “This is definitely a nest.  Those are definitely eggs.  And I’m willing to bet good money what we heard back there was the mother of all monsters.”

Dom couldn’t help but agree, but he was distracted by the prompt that appeared in the air before him, glowing with an ominous blue light.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+13.4).

Now is definitely the time to buy a lotto ticket… or make a run for it.

Dom’s eyes went wide.  That was one of the highest luck multipliers he’d seen since his initial training runs in the jungle.  That could only mean one thing.  He and Adrian were in an incredible amount of danger right now.  Maybe whatever had laid these eggs was about to return.

“I think we might be about to meet the mother,” Dom muttered.

A rustle at the edges of the clearing suddenly drew his attention.  Dom’s fists clenched as he prepared to see some monstrous creature emerge from the depths of the jungle – whatever had created this field and birthed the massive eggs at his back.

Adrian’s hand landed on Dom’s shoulder, and he pointed at the other side of the clearing.  The vegetation was trembling all along the edges of the grove now.  And as Dom stooped, his palm resting on the ground, he could feel tremors radiating through the ground, growing stronger with each passing second.  A steady thump, thump, thump.

“Is there more than one?  Maybe a mate?” Adrian grunted, his hand clenched tight around the neck of his guitar, and his muscles tense as he eyed the tree line.

Dom just shook his head.  That didn’t feel right.  Whatever had created this field had to be huge – large enough that it wouldn’t just make the tree branches sway.

Suddenly, creatures burst through the line of ruined trees.  Dom could only stare in surprise.  These weren’t some enormous monsters.  They looked like… two-headed panthers?  And from the right, a horde of monkeys was swinging over the line of ruined trees perched atop the makeshift wall.  Birds swept through the branches, their plumage glowing brightly and a piercing shriek erupting from their throats – accompanied by clouds of buzzing insects, some as large as Dom’s hand.  On the other side of the clearing, snakes slithered easily through the thicket, their massive, serpentine bodies coiling within the clearing and their flat heads rising up ten feet or more into the air.  And with a trumpeted blast of air, giant wooly mammoths shoved their way through the wall of debris, sending fragments of wood flying.

All around them, the denizens of the jungle were converging en masse – hundreds of creatures of claw, wing, scale, fur, and chitin.  And even more eerie, as they entered the courtyard, they all stopped.  They stood, sat, crawled, and perched in place, their beady eyes riveted on the nest behind Dom and Adrian.  Growls, shrieks, and chirps combined, creating a deluge of noise that swept across the clearing.  If their demeanor wasn’t enough – fangs bared and claws at the ready – that sound clearly conveyed their intent.

These creatures were all ready to kill.

Just as this realization struck Dom, he saw a shimmering blue barrier rise up around the clearing, glimmering with sapphire light and fully encircling the nest.  Although, he wasn’t given long to consider whatever the hell that barrier was or what effect it might have.

A prompt suddenly dropped down in front of him.

System Notice:  Discovered New Event!

You lucky duck, you!  You just stepped into the middle of a local event…

Welcome to the Egg Hunt!

Good luck and have “fun!”

“Uh, what’s an Egg Hunt?” Adrian asked, swiping aside his own notice.  The bard looked tense, the wooden neck of his guitar creaking under his grip.

“No idea,” Dom shot back.

But he suspected they were about to find out.

Chapter 15 - Fustercluck

“Oh, this is just perfect,” Adrian muttered, eyeing the creatures.  They seemed to be waiting for something – all those eyes fixed on the eggs behind them.

Before Dom could respond, another prompt dropped down in front of him.

New Hidden Quest:  Egg Hunt

I suppose some might call you “lucky” for stumbling upon this hidden event.  Those people would also be morons.  This isn’t really a reward.

In fact, you have the distinct displeasure of participating in a local egg hunt.  Now, you might be asking what the hell that is…  Well, the species behind you isn’t well-loved around these parts.   Every creature in the area is now intent on killing those future omelets.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to defend the eggs.

Seems impossible, huh?  But, you get unlimited tries at least!  For the duration of the event, your respawn point has been temporarily bound to your current location, and your respawn timer has been reduced to 30 seconds.  If you leave the event zone – that fancy blue barrier – you will be immediately disqualified from any rewards.  We can also recommend a few good therapists after the event ends.

Although, personally, we recommend you leave those not-so-little, unborn bastards to their fate.  There might be a really, really, really good reason that this many creatures are willing to ignore the food chain ‘round these parts to show up for this late ‘brunch.’  It’s your choice, though.

Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Difficulty:  S

Success:  Kill the attacking creatures.

Failure:  Let all of the eggs get destroyed or eaten

Reward:  Unknown.

“You see that same quest notice?” Dom asked, swiping aside the prompt.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Adrian murmured.  The creatures still hadn’t moved, only more drifting out of the tree-line and joining their ranks.

Dom hesitated.  For all of his teasing before, this might be taking it a step too far – at least for Adrian.  30 second respawns would be rough, and that was putting it mildly.  Dom felt like he could handle it.  But the bard?  He still hadn’t leveled Deathwish nearly as high, and Dom had at least a couple thousand deaths on him at this point.

“We could just leave,” Dom offered tentatively.

Adrian glanced at him in surprise.  “Oh, come on, I know you want to give this a try.  Even though that’s completely insane, and the prompt was warning us to walk away.”

Dom cocked his head.  “Well…”

“See?  I knew it!”

A few seconds later, a sigh escaped Adrian’s lips, the bard shifting his grip on his guitar and his hands now hovering over the strings.  “It’s fine.  I guess this is what we’ve been training for… even if it’s going to suck.  A lot.”

Dom’s eyebrows rose.  Now that wasn’t the response he’d been expecting.  It seemed their time in the jungle had changed Adrian – even if it was a reluctant evolution.  But he wasn’t going to second guess the bard.  Dom doubted he would be able to handle this alone.  Hell, he doubted they could do it together.  And even if they somehow managed to protect the eggs, what then?  Would the mother of all monsters show up at the end?

He shook his head.  He could deal with that problem if they made it that far.

“Alright,” Dom grunted.  “I’m going to draw their attention.  You provide support and watch the eggs – got it?”

Adrian heaved another heavy sigh.  “Man, this is going to hurt.

“But it’s going to be great training,” Dom shot back with a grin.  In contrast to Adrian, no fear lingered in his heart.  All he saw before him was a challenge – a real one.  One that would ensure he’d feel that searing, energetic hum coursing through his body, if only for a few minutes.

Adrian pressed his lips into a grim line.  “Well, in that case, maybe we should try something new.  I’ve been noodling on this for the last few days…"

As Adrian trailed off, his fingers strummed at his guitar and a single, clear note split across the clearing, traveling farther than it should have and cutting across the din the creature were making.  Even as that note began to fade, Adrian began playing.  However, this wasn’t a mournful, wailing song like the one he’d played for the panthers.  It was different.  Stronger.  A rhythmic combination of chords interspersed with a mock drumbeat as Adrian’s palm slapped against his guitar.  It was a rising anthem.  A call to battle.  A march to war.

And as the sound washed across Dom, he felt a surge of energy ripple through his body.  He looked down to find his hands coated in a strange, muddled orange-red aura.  He wasn’t given long to question what was happening as another prompt dropped down in front of him.

System Notice:  Traveler Buff

Adrian has begun playing War Chant, the song infusing his allies with strength and resilience.  While the song is playing, all group members within earshot will receive the following bonuses:

- +50 Strength

- +15% Global Damage Resistance

Dom swept that notice aside, a wide smile curling his lips.  That would certainly help.

He cracked his knuckles and stepped out in front of Adrian, feeling a shiver run up his spine as his concentration honed to a fine point – leaving no room for anything else.  He had felt this sensation many times before in the real world.  During games.  His cleats cutting into the grass.  The roar of the crowd in the stands.  A line of opponents staring at him from beneath the shadow of their helmets, their bodies tense.

This was his element.  And it was time to play some defense.

Adrian’s song had acted like the starting bell, the creatures streaming forward in an undulating wave of wing, fang, and claw.  A din of howls, growls, and shrieks echoed across the clearing but wasn’t nearly enough to drown out Adrian’s melody.

In the face of that living avalanche, Dom didn’t move an inch.  He stood firm, planting his feet in the dirt, and taking smooth, deep breaths.  Energy surged through his limbs, his muscles tense and taut, every nerve ending on fire.

The wave of creatures grew closer, denser.  Snarling maws.  Slithering bodies.  Swarms of birds and bugs buzzed through the air over their heads.  It was a wall of flesh and chitin.

Still, he stood there.  Waiting.

Just a little closer.

When the animals were almost on top of them – just beginning to crest the hill leading to the nest – Dom raised his head skyward and drew in a deep breath.  He’d been training intently since the encounter with the panthers, and the sound that rippled forth from his throat barely resembled that first Challenging Shout.  It thundered across the clearing, creating an almost palpable wave of force.  It crashed into the advancing wave of creatures, the animals staggering backward slightly and blunting their charge.

As they began to recover, all of those eyes suddenly shifted targets.

They were no longer focused on the eggs but on Dom.

At the same time, he saw his luck begin to skyrocket further.

“Let’s do this,” Dom grunted.  Then he crouched, his legs snapping forward like a whip crack.  He was sent hurtling up into the air, soaring over the line of creatures.  His feet soon hit the ground with a solid thump, but he didn’t hesitate or slow.  Dom took off across the clearing, heading directly toward the glowing blue barrier in the distance.  And from the crescendo of noise behind him, the creatures were following close behind.

As Dom neared the edge of the respawn zone, he slid to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust.  Then, in one fluid movement, he stooped and grabbed at one of the trunks piled up along the edge of the clearing, ripping it free of the debris.  It was at least ten feet long and two feet across – a small-ish tree by the jungle’s standards.  But it would do.  He hefted it, testing its weight as he turned and observed the creatures closing in on him.  A tidal wave of death.

Once they were in range, Dom charged forward again, this time activating Bull Rush.  He swept forward in a blur, pulling back on the trunk.  He’d never been that great at baseball.  Hitting a tiny ball moving 90+ miles per hour had never held much appeal.  He preferred a more “hands-on” approach – to be the wall between his enemies and his allies.

But accuracy didn’t matter here, just brute strength.

He crashed into the line of advancing creatures like a meteor, the trunk swinging forward with incredible force.  It struck a panther in the head, sending the beast toppling to the side, its skull caved in and its body crushing many of the smaller creatures, leaving exposed bone and blood in its wake.  But Dom barely spared any attention to that.  He just swung again.  And again.

He crushed bones and ripped flesh open in a shower of blood.  As a cloud of stinging insects and cawing birds raced into the gap, he roared again.  The sound stopped them in their tracks, their tiny bodies dropping to the ground, only to be battered by the feet of hundreds of other creatures.

One of the mammoths suddenly barreled through the crowd, smashing aside the other animals in its path.  Its body was covered in thick fur, and massive tusks swept out from his head.  Yet he felt no fear as he faced down his target, only wondering idly if all that hair was hot in the cloying dampness of the jungle.

He activated Bull Rush again, dropping his splintered log and racing forward to meet the elephant.  They slammed into one another with incredible force, Dom gripping its tusks in his hands, the impact sending out a small shockwave that pushed the other creatures back.  He’d blunted the creature’s charge, but its legs dug into the dirt, slowly pushing Dom back.

More troubling were the other animals.  The horde was never-ending, and the creatures around them had already begun to recover.  Dom dropped his grip and slid to the side as the elephant sped past him, only to have a panther’s claw cut into his back, a hissing breath escaping his lips.  And then there was only the brawl.  The flash of claws.  The spray of crimson blood.

Yet no matter how hard he fought – how many he killed – more replaced those that fell.  It was an unrelenting wave that chipped away at his health – slicing through his skin and cutting into muscle.  Each blow and scrape and tear only made him slower.  Weaker.

Until he finally dropped to one knee…

A swarm of monkeys jumped onto Dom’s back, clawing and tearing at his face and skin.  He grabbed one by the head, crushing its skull between his fingers before flinging it back into the horde.  He grabbed another.  And another.  But there were too many.  Other creatures joined the fray, stinging, biting, tearing, and ripping apart his limbs.

He felt his right arm torn free—

Then the world began to fade into darkness.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

***

Adrian had been training with Dom long enough to understand his strategy.  This wasn’t a battle that could be won in a single decisive strike.  They didn’t have any fireball-throwing mages.  No line of sword and steel.  There were only the two of them and a short respawn timer.

This was going to be a war of attrition.

Which was why it wasn’t a surprise that Dom waited for the creatures to close – to ensure they were all caught within the radius of his Challenging Shout.  Adrian had witnessed firsthand how Dom had begun to use that skill to train – the range and intensity increasing as he practiced with various breathing techniques.  Dom could now walk into the jungle, let out a shout, and wait for the creatures to come to him.  Let them cut, tear, rip at his body to level his damage resistances and Iron Skin.

And with each death, he’d only grown stronger.

Nor was Adrian surprised when he saw Dom leap over the line of creatures and speed away toward the edge of the clearing, the horde of animals following close behind.  Dom knew he would die – knew he couldn’t kill all these creatures, at least not in a single try.

So, he was putting distance between them and Adrian.

But it was still a shock to see Dom in action – no longer restrained nor holding back.  He ripped a tree trunk free from the debris with barely any effort before diving into the fray like a damn juggernaut, leaving a line of bleeding and broken corpses in his wake.  Adrian could only marvel.  This man was level-fucking-five.  What he was witnessing now wasn’t a function of some exploit of the game mechanics or clever strategy.  This was a function of his dedication and relentless training, of a man seemingly unafraid of death.

Even so, Dom couldn’t last forever.

As Dom finally fell, the creatures tore apart his body in a flurry of blood and bone, sending up a fine red mist that coated fur and scale.  And then, as one, the horde turned back to the nest – back to Adrian.  They began to charge, once more closing the distance between the respawn field and those eggs that lingered behind him.  Before he’d met Dom, Adrian would likely have frozen up in fear at this sight.  He might have tried to run screaming into the forest.

If he was being honest, some small – still sane – part of his mind wanted to.

But he didn’t.  He’d died before.  Many, many times now.  And each time, he’d come back.  Stronger.  Faster.  Harder to kill.  And he expected he’d die many more times if he continued to follow a man with a death wish.

No, Adrian just felt strangely calm.

Without missing a beat, his fingers switched up their position along the neck of the guitar.  New chords flowed from his baby, the sound more muted now.  A somber, sorrowful song that drifted across the clearing and crashed into the wave of creatures.  He saw them slow.  The smaller animals stopped completely, shaking their heads as though dazed.

He knew it wouldn’t stop them – not completely.  But it would slow them down.

Well, all of the creatures that could hear anyway.

It had little effect on a group of dire pythons that slithered rapidly across the ground, closing swiftly with Adrian.  It seemed snakes didn’t have ears – at least, not exactly.  He vaguely recalled watching an animal documentary that had mentioned snakes could only feel or sense vibrations.

He grimaced but held his ground.  Waiting.  Watching.

The serpents were only a few yards away now, mouths open, fangs gleaming, pink venom dripping from their tips – a paralytic according to Dom.  Adrian couldn’t afford to get hit.  As if that wasn’t enough, their serpentine bodies were at least twenty feet long and thick enough to crush bone.  Adrian’s fingers stumbled slightly, but he recovered before the rest of the horde could recover, maintaining his melancholy song.

Just a few more seconds.

The snakes were only mere yards away now, slowing, coiling.  And then, one of the monsters began to unfurl, lashing forward in a blur of movement.  Adrian immediately twirled to the right, the snake sailing past him and its jaw snapping shut on air – but he didn’t miss a single note.  Another struck at him.  He dodged and danced and spun even as his fingers kept moving.  The snakes were fast.  But they were no match for a hail of hard-shelled fruit.

Then the three pythons began to spread out around him, coiling, and their eyes now locked on the creature denying them access to the nest – the rest of the horde was closing now despite the effects of Wailing Despair.  Adrian knew he couldn’t dodge this time.  Couldn’t avoid every strike.

But he still didn’t relent.  He never stopped playing, even as three pythons shot forward.

Although, Adrian closed his eyes in that moment—

Only for nothing to happen.

His eyes shot open.

Dom had respawned in a flash of multi-colored light.  Yet, he didn’t sink to the ground in pain.  He didn’t tremble and shake like the noobs in the courtyard.  This was a man who’d died thousands of times already.  He came back into the world ready to fight.

He now stood with a snake caught in each hand, the third’s head crushed under his foot.  He slammed one snake into the ground, grabbing the other with both hands and… pulling.  He ripped the snake apart with a savage roar, its spine bursting through its scales in a shower of blood.  The last snake was stunned but not down, slowly raising its head.  Only for Dom to stomp it back into the ground, crushing it into the dirt and leaving a deep imprint, a mixture of dark red blood and pink venom mixing there.

Then Dom looked at Adrian, saluted him, and took off toward the horde of creatures again, his roar soon rippling across the courtyard as he raced back to the respawn field – intending to repeat the same strategy from his first round.

But what stuck with Adrian was the look on Dom’s face.  The wide, almost manic smile.  Eyes ablaze with excitement.  It was a stark contrast to his normally somber or even gloomy demeanor.  Adrian had witnessed some of this before – but only in bits and pieces.  In moments when Dom called creatures to him to train or took on a new challenge.  He’d never seen it quite like this.

He looked alive.

Almost… happy?

Like he was enjoying this.

“What a crazy son of a bitch,” Adrian muttered, watching Dom speed back to the edge of the respawn field – almost certainly racing toward another brutal death.

And for some reason, Adrian felt a similar smile pulling at his lips.  A strange fiery energy welling in the pit of his stomach.  A nagging question accompanied those new sensations.

Fuck.  Do I enjoy this too?

Adrian shook his head.  Maybe he was going mad as well.

But what the hell.  Why not embrace it?

With that thought, Adrian’s fingers began to move once more, his War Chant filling the air, creating a rising, energetic melody punctuated by the carnage on the other side of the clearing, Dom’s Challenging Shout blending in with his song and the howl of the native creatures.  There was something enthralling about that sound.

It was a call to war – a battle hymn.

And a macabre celebration of life.

Chapter 16 - Savage

Dom’s chest heaved, sucking in a deep lungful of air before expelling it forcefully.

His muscles burned.  His limbs ached.  His right leg was definitely broken.  His left ankle twisted.  Based on the pain radiating up through his abdominals and back, he’d torn something in his hip.  He could feel a fiery sting along his shoulder blade – some sort of poison, if he had to guess.  Blood trickled down from his brow, dripping into his left eye, which was swollen shut.  A trunk still hung limply from his right hand.  The wood was battered, dented, and broken, the surface slick with blood that reflected the sunlight that beat down upon him.

But he was alive.  And his good eye scanned the field around him.

Dom stood at the base of the nest.  An eerie silence had descended upon the clearing.

Nothing moved across that field.  All that lingered there now were bodies.  Broken fur.  Shattered scales.  Blood-stained feathers.  Dozens, if not hundreds, of corpses strewn around him, a rainbow of multi-colored blood staining the dirt – creating a sort of sadistic, technicolor painting.  The jungle could be both terrifying and beautiful, even in death.

“I… I think we did it,” Adrian murmured from behind Dom.  He turned to look at the bard with his uninjured eye.  He still clutched his guitar, and his tunic was tattered and matted with blood – his own and other creatures.

“How many times?” Dom ground out.

Adrian glanced at him questioningly, and then realization settled across his face.  “Ahh, how many times did you die?  I lost count after forty.”

Dom just nodded.  Not too bad, then.  His health regeneration should take care of his injuries swiftly.  He could already feel the bones begin to shift back into place and the itch of his skin starting to close.  And in the wake of the carnage around him, he could feel his adrenaline slow to a trickle, sudden fatigue settling in.  His trunk thumped against the ground, and Dom leaned against it heavily.

More than forty deaths, he repeated to himself.

The battle had been a blur – his memory somewhat fuzzy and indistinct.  Although, a few moments stood out.  He glanced at Adrian, the bard shaking his head as he stared at the carnage.  Then Dom caught sight of a familiar corpse, the remains of what might have once been some sort of flying lizard.  Adrian promptly kicked it.  Once.  Twice.  A third time.

“This is what you get for spitting acid at me,” he muttered.

“That did suck,” Dom admitted, rubbing his neck.  His wounds were swiftly healing, the pain receding with each second that passed.  “I’ll admit I was nervous when they took you out.  Ended up having to run around the field with everything chasing me until you respawned.  And with a cut hamstring…”

Adrian barked out an involuntary laugh.  “Sure, but that was also pretty funny when I respawned.  You were hopping around on one leg with an entire zoo chasing you!  I actually managed to get a few photos.”

“Wish I’d had a chance to take a picture of you with that giant spider,” Dom shot back, raising an eyebrow.  “You nearly got me killed when I heard you scream like a—”

“Very courageous soldier?” Adrian interjected quickly, his cheeks flushing slightly.  “That was, ahem, my warrior shout.  It’s meant to intimidate my foes.”

“Uhhuh,” Dom answered noncommittally.  “In fairness, you did get some impressive distance when you hit it with your guitar.”  Dom glanced at the dilapidated instrument in his hands.  “Honestly, I’m surprised that thing is still intact.”

Adrian grimaced, cradling his baby in his arms.  “She’s actually sitting at just one point of durability left.  I’m going to need to find someone in town that can fix her up when we get back.”

At the mention of returning to Aislen, Dom’s thoughts turned back to the prompt.

And Dom supposed they’d won.  Or, at least, he assumed they had—

“Wait, what about the eggs?” Dom asked, worry suddenly coiling in his gut.

A grin drifted across Adrian’s face.  “Actually, I think all of them are totally—”

He cut himself short as he turned, his smile morphing into a look of horror as he scanned the nest behind him.  “—not fine,” he finished.  “Oh.  Oh shit.”

Dom sighed, forcing himself to step forward, using the trunk as a sort of makeshift cane since his right leg hadn’t fully healed yet, the ground trembling slightly with each impact.  He made his way up the shallow hill and paused at the top, taking in a different scene of carnage.

They’d manage to kill the panthers.  The pythons.  The birds.  The monkeys.  The insects.  The flying lizards and the spiders.  Oh, and some sort of elephant-like creature with razor-sharp tusks.  But it wasn’t any of those creatures that had finished off their eggs.  No, it was a gods damn pack of ants!  The insects were each about an inch long, their bodies a muddled brown that blended in with the dirt of the field.  And they now coated the eggs, their mandibles having long since eaten away at the shells.

With a grunt, Dom kicked at an egg, the shell cracking and crumbling only for a swarm of the insects to tumble out, coated in a sickly yellow yolk.

“Damn it,” Adrian ground out.  He slumped to the ground, sitting on the corpse of a panther and setting his guitar down beside him.  “Fucking ants?  Really?”

Dom just shook his head.  It figured.  The insects were small, camouflaged – making them hard to detect amid the chaos.  And his shout and Adrian’s songs were likely ineffective against them, much like with the pythons.

“How the hell were we supposed to stop that?” Adrian ranted.

Although, Dom’s brow furrowed.  Something felt off about this scene.  The creatures all appeared to be dead – except for the ants, of course.  And the eggs were destroyed.  However, they hadn’t received a prompt.  No quest update at all, actually.

Does that mean we haven’t failed yet?

A piercing squawk interrupted his thoughts.  A yellow blur streaked passed in Dom’s peripheral vision before leaping into the nest and attacking the ants.  As Dom and Adrian looked on in shock, what appeared to be a tiny chick began laying waste to the entire colony of oversized insects, snapping them up in its beak before guzzling them down.  The ants soon realized their plight and began to scatter, but it was far too late, the chick chasing them down and eating every last one.  Dom almost felt a bit sorry for the ants…

When it was finally finished, the bird waddled over near Dom, settling down on a large eggshell fragment.  The chick couldn’t have been more than six inches tall, its feathers matted and wet… almost like it had just hatched.

Dom and Adrian looked at each other.

Then at the remains of the human-sized eggs.

Then at each other again.

“Uh, you don’t think that maybe…” Adrian began hesitantly.

Dom’s eyes widened, and he pivoted to look behind him, following the path the chick had taken when it had leaped on the ants.  Behind the nest, he saw the corpse of one of the elephant creatures, an egg wedged under its bulk, half-hidden under its corpse.  He could only guess it must have rolled free during the fray.  He turned back to the chick who chirped softly, its eyes drooping with fatigue.

“That this little chick just hatched?” Dom finished for Adrian.

“Uh, no fucking way.  It’s so tiny.  And the eggs are so large,” the bard muttered incredulously, waving at the nest.  “Like that just doesn’t add up.”

Dom shrugged as he approached the chick.  Maybe most of the egg contained nutrients for the chick?  He seemed to vaguely recall that’s how chickens gestated in the real world, by absorbing and eating the egg’s contents.  That also seemed plausible with the way it had devoured the ants.  Maybe this creature just needed to eat a lot.

As he stooped in front of the chick, Dom decided it sure looked a lot like a real-world chicken – patchwork feathers with stripes of mottled pink skin.  Although, as he stared at the newborn bird, Dom noticed his luck multiplier begin to skyrocket again.  His brow furrowed.  Could that mean this chick was dangerous?  The prompt sure seemed to indicate that.

The chick suddenly looked up, its eyes meeting Dom’s.  And for just a moment, it felt like a jolt of electricity arced between them, sending a shiver through Dom’s body.

Accompanying that sensation was another notice.

System Notice:  New Pet Imprint

A young animal has just imprinted upon you.  You now have a choice of whether to accept this creature as a formal pet.

Pets bond a part of their soul with their owner, allowing them to respawn and return if they perish.  However, severe injuries may still leave scars or marks on the creature – some even debilitating.  Pets may also learn their own abilities depending on their species, be taught special skills, and level independently of their owners.  However, these benefits come with a cost, specifically 10% of the player’s stats.

Although, in this particular case, we strongly urge you to kill this creature before it can mature.  Seriously, just smother it.  Please.

Would you like this animal to become your pet?  [Yes/No]

And then, even more surprisingly…

Quest Complete:  Hard-Knock Life

You killed the Dire Python!  And his parents.  And younger sister.  Really his entire family.  You may be a sadist… and hated within the serpent community.

Return to the Gambler for your reward.

Dom shook his head, swiping the second notice aside.  It seemed one of those pythons had been his archnemesis… and he hadn’t even noticed.  He’d come a long way since he first began playing, apparently.  Although, that quest wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind right now.  No, his attention was very much focused on the young chick sitting in front of him, a frown creasing his brow.

What am I going to do with you?

“What is it?” Adrian asked, the bard noticing Dom’s expression.

“I just got a prompt asking me if I want to accept this chick as a pet in exchange for 10% of my stats,” Dom murmured.  He shook his head.  “But it’s also urging me to kill it, and my luck multiplier just skyrocketed again.”

Adrian shook his head.  “Perfect.  Because this couldn’t get any weirder…”

Dom could only nod in agreement.  This whole situation was strange as hell.  Like where was this thing’s mother?  That initial cry they’d heard must have been the hen – or whatever the hell this thing would grow up to be.  But then, where was she?  Why had she left her eggs unprotected?  And why had she made that cry?

It was almost like its mother had intended to draw the other animals.

But what sort of mother would try to kill her own eggs?

Adrian sighed.  “The quest prompt also implied these creatures all had a reason to destroy these eggs,” he added, mirroring Dom’s thoughts.  “Maybe we should just kill it.”

The chick seemed to perk up at that, as though it could understand Adrian.  In a blur of motion, it launched itself at the bard, Adrian just barely having time to raise his guitar instinctively.  The chick slammed into the wood, a resounding crack echoing across the clearing.

As Dom looked over, he saw the two facing off, Adrian holding a piece of his guitar in each hand, staring back and forth between them as though struggling to process what he was seeing.  Then the realization settled in.  “It broke my Baby!  Never mind, I’ll kill it myself!” the bard thundered, glaring at the chick now.

The creature seemed alarmed by Adrian’s reaction and must have suddenly remembered it was only six inches tall.  It quickly scurried back to Dom and hovered beside him, pressing its tiny body against his ankle.  He could feel it trembling, its eyes wide and staring up at him with an entreating expression.

“Do you know what it took me to buy that guitar?” Adrian roared.  “Come here, you little shit.  I’m going to turn you into some damn chicken nuggets!”

For his part, Dom’s gaze was locked with the chick, a strange feeling welling in his chest.  Something in him resonated with the fear in the creature’s eyes.  The way its gaze trembled, shifting to the remains of the nest – its family dead, its mother having left it to die.  It had no one and nothing.  A truly “unfortunate” creature.

And in that moment, Dom made a decision.

He tapped “yes” on the prompt.

There was a flash of amber energy, and then another notice appeared.

New Hidden Quest Completed:  Egg Hunt

Are you kidding?  You actually killed everything…

And not only that, but you decided to let that chick imprint upon you?  And you took it as a pet?  Are you daft?  Slow in the head?  We told you this was a terrible idea.

But I suppose you’ve made your own nest, now you’re going to have to lie in it…

“You accepted?” Adrian echoed the prompt, swiping at the air.  “Seriously?  You took this guitar murdering little demon as a pet?”  For its part, the chick just chirped at Adrian, still huddling behind Dom, although its tone had changed.  It almost sounded mocking.

“Yeah, fuck you too, you future sandwich,” Adrian grunted before sinking back onto his perch, cradling the remains of his “baby” in his lap and murmuring to it.

Meanwhile, Dom looked down at the chick who was looking up at him.  Maybe he’d just made a mistake.  He’d certainly given up a lot to make this happen, including his hard-won stats.  But he could always just train more.  And besides, maybe the chick would come in handy.  If everything – including the game’s administrator – was scared of it, then maybe it would become a fearsome ally.

The chick nuzzled him, and Dom stroked its fragile feathers with one gentle finger.

Then he rose, the chick waddling after him as Dom walked over to Adrian, who was stooped over his broken guitar.  It looked like the chick might have broken him as well as his guitar.  Dom settled a hand on the bard’s shoulder, the man starting slightly.

“It’ll be okay,” Dom grunted.  “We’ll get you a new instrument.  It can be replaced.”

He waved at the chick.  “That thing is unique, however.  And if everything out here was trying to kill it, then I want it on our team.  I have a feeling this is the right move.”

Adrian let out a frustrated sigh.  “That’s nice and all.  But how exactly do you propose to replace my guitar?  There isn’t an awesome selection back in that shithole – oh, I mean Aislen.  And it took me days’ worth of game time to build up enough cash.  You have no idea what kind of bullshit I went through to buy my… my poor baby,” he finished weakly, staring bleakly down at the remains of his guitar.

“Don’t worry.  We’ll figure something out,” Dom replied evenly, meeting Adrian’s gaze steadily.  “You’re not alone this time.”

Adrian met his gaze for a few long seconds, then nodded.  “Fine.  Fine.”  He shot a glare at the chick.  “But don’t think I’ll ever forget what you did.”

The creature just chirped back sweetly, its eyes going round.

“I hate you,” the bard muttered.

“Anyway, first things first,” Dom continued, “we need to return to town.  And I don’t really feel like walking,” he added, waving at his leg, which was still healing.  Frankly, now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was starting to feel exhausted.  That event had taken a lot more out of him than he cared to admit.

Adrian let out another sigh, eyeing the tree line.  Then he hauled himself back to his feet.  “Alright.  Then let’s go find something that can kill us.  I vote the guitar murderer goes first.”

Dom just snorted in amusement – too tired to manage much else.

Then the pair set off into the jungle, their clothing ripped and tattered, Adrian’s baby demolished, their skin and clothing covered in blood, and Dom limping along on a broken leg.  Their expressions were both bleak and exhausted after that grueling ordeal.

In stark contrast, the tiny chick waddled after them, chirping happily.  Its eyes shone with excitement as it took in a bright new world full of adventure.

Chapter 17 - Recuperating

Dom spawned back into the casino, landing with a grunt.  Long gone were the times he’d arrived face down against hard tile.  After so many deaths, he’d noticed that his reintroduction to the game often felt random – at least in terms of how he was oriented on respawn.  It was almost as though the system admin was messing with him.

Hell, one time, he’d respawned entirely upside down.

But he supposed that was good training too.  It helped hone his reflexes.

Dom pushed himself upright, taking a deep breath and finally allowing himself to relax now that he would be staying put for a little while.  That Egg Hunt had taken a greater toll than he’d expected, Dom returning to the casino for a few seconds each time he’d died, only to be immediately sucked back out the entrance.  He’d barely had a chance to get his bearings or take a breath.  Even with Deathwish and his experience dying, it had been intense.  He could only imagine a “regular” traveler might have lost their damn mind… or tapped out early.

On that note, he realized he should check on his progress.  It’d been a while since he’d looked at his training results, and that event should have netted him at least a few levels.

Dom swiped at the air, and a cascade of notices tumbled down in front of him, his mouth hanging open as the notifications kept scrolling…

And scrolling…

And scrolling…

x23 Level Up!

You have (115) undistributed stat points.

Stat Increases:

+25 Strength

+11 Dexterity

+18 Endurance

+54 Vitality

New Passive Skill:  Toughness

You’ve clearly gotten used to getting the shit kicked out of you.  In fact, you’re starting to get pretty good at it…

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  -6% damage and pain.

Effect 2:  Reduced fatigue duration by 10%.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Iron Skin

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  +709 Armor.

Effect 2:  +9% Increased Total Armor.

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Hardy

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  +9.5% Vitality.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Strength Training

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 6

Effect:  +7.50% Strength.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Endurance Training

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 7

Effect:  +8% Endurance.

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Unarmed Fighting

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 6

Effect:  +7.50% damage and speed.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Sprint

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 7

Effect 1:  13% increased movement speed.

Effect 2:  -16% stamina drain.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Poison Resist

Skill Level: Beginner  Level 10

Effect:  -9.5% poison damage.

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Bleeding Resist

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  -9.50% bleeding damage.

x6 Skill Rank Up:  Improvisation

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 7

Effect:  16% Damage Bonus with Random Weapon.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Challenging Shout

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  1.5 Second Stun and Increased Aggro.  17 Yard Radius.

Effect 2:  14% Increased Threat

Stamina Cost:  300

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Bull Rush

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  34% Increased Impact Force

Effect 2:  14% Increased Impact Area

Stamina Cost:  300

Character Status

Name:

Dom

Gender:

Male

Level:

28

Class:

Race:

Human

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Fame:

1,500

Infamy:

0

Health:

4,077

H/Sec:

19.01

Mana:

260

M/Sec:

1.00

Stamina

1,972

S/Sec:

17.87

Str

125

Dex

123

Vit

197

End

122

Int

10

Will

10

Lck

10

Affinities

Dark:

6%

Light:

8%

Fire:

5%

Water:

1%

Air:

19%

Earth:

1%

Well, damn, seems like that Egg Hunt wasn’t all for nothing.

Even with the 10% stat penalty from accepting his new “pet” Dom’s stats were looking respectable.  He’d used his new stat points to increase his Dexterity by 55 and Vitality by 60.  Between those stat increases and his passive skill bonuses, his base stats were in rough parity, and his Vitality was nearing 200.  It was hard to believe how much his health had increased since he’d started.  It was nearly forty times higher now, despite the small number of levels he’d gained. Combined with his Iron Skin, Toughness, and growing list of resistances, he could take a beating.

As though that hadn’t been abundantly clear from the Egg Hunt…

A faint chirp caught Dom’s attention, and he glanced to his side to see the tiny chick hovering at his ankle, eyeing the rest of the casino with interest.  He stooped, petting the baby bird gently.  It was an oddity, a tiny and innocent result of an ocean of blood.

“Just what are you?” Dom murmured.

“What the hell is that?” someone half-shouted from nearby.

Dom looked up in surprise to find the Gambler staring at him.  Or, more precisely, at the chick.  “Why did you bring that thing in here?”

The chick just chirped innocently and stepped toward the Gambler with a questioning look, only for the man to back away and start looking around for a weapon.  Normally, the Gambler was pretty stoic.  But right now, he almost looked… afraid?

“Uh, I found him.  He’s my new pet,” Dom explained cautiously.

Now the Gambler was staring at him.  “Your what?  I’m sorry, I must be losing my hearing.  I swear I thought I heard you say that monster was your pet.  What about you, Oscar?” he asked the rat perched on top of a nearby slot machine.  It just shook its tiny head in puzzlement, earning it a curious look from the chick, one accompanied by a telltale rumble of its stomach.  Oscar promptly backed away slowly along the line of slot machines.

“Because it is my pet,” Dom explained, cradling the chick in his hands and rising back to his feet.  It nuzzled his arm gently.  The feathers along its head were down-soft.  “Why?  Does he make you nervous?” Dom asked, pushing him forward, only for the Gambler to recoil.

“That thing should make any sane person nervous,” the man grunted.  “Do you have any idea what you’re holding right now?”

Dom looked down at the chick, the creature chirping up at him cheerfully.  “No.  No, I guess I don’t.  But it’s definitely cute.”

The Gambler sighed, fingers massaging at his temple.  “That is a Battle Chicken.  I’m guessing if you’re holding a chick, that must mean you just survived an Egg Hunt?”  Dom nodded.  “Did it occur to you at any point during that mess that there might be a really good fucking reason all of those other creatures wanted to destroy the eggs?”

Dom cocked his head.  “I think the prompt mentioned something about that, but it didn’t explain why any of that stuff was happening.”

The man heaved out a sigh.  “It’s because those things are incredibly dangerous – even for the area outside Aislen.  Battle Chickens have unlimited growth potential.  Haven’t you noticed that thing seems to eat anything?”  Another nod from Dom.  “Well, that’s because it does literally eat anything.  And it never stops growing.  As a result, the ecosystem evolved to deal with them.  Basically, any creature that sees one of those birds is going to try to kill it.  Even its own mother.”

“So, that must have been the squawk we heard,” Dom murmured to himself.  At least the Gambler had confirmed his and Adrian’s suspicion.  “But are you really suggesting its mother lured all of those creatures to its nest?”

“I’m not suggesting shit.  I’m straight-up telling you that’s what happened,” the Gambler snapped back.  “If it grows up, it’ll just be competition for the mother’s territory.  Usually, none of the chicks survive.  And those that do, well, survival of the fittest and all that.  Frankly, I suggest you kill it.  Now.  While you still can.”

Dom looked back down at the chick…

…who stared back up at him with overly-large eyes.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he replied finally.

“Then it’s your damn funeral.  And I’m billing you for any damage that… that thing causes to my casino,” the Gambler grumbled, trudging back into the depths of the casino.

Dom just watched the man’s back before his gaze drifted down to the chick again.  It had begun to doze off in his arms, with its eyes half-lidded and letting out a faint whistle on each exhale.  Was this thing really that dangerous?  And so what if it was?  What the hell did Dom have to lose by keeping it?  This was a game, after all.  It’s not like it could cause him any permanent harm.  Besides, he knew what it was like to feel like the whole world was arrayed against you – that look of fear he’d seen in the chick’s eyes when Adrian had made a similar proposal to turn the chick into a happy meal.  If he could help protect the creature, then he was going to – consequences be damned.

So, Dom shook his head and headed off after the Gambler.

“Anyway, let’s get off the topic of the super deadly baby bird,” Dom offered as he caught up to the grumpy casino owner, unable to remove the sarcasm from his voice entirely.  “I finished your quest.  The python is dead.”

The Gambler peered at him from under his visor.  “Is it now?  Well, good job.”

“About my reward…” Dom began, trailing off meaningfully.

“I don’t remember promising a reward.  However, I do recall that you lost a bet fair and square,” the Gambler replied, stopping at a low counter along the back of the casino.

Dom just let out a snort – that didn’t deserve a real response.

“Okay, fine.  Maybe not so fair and square,” the Gambler amended.  “But that’s just life.”

The man stared sourly at the bar, and Dom followed his gaze.  It looked run-down, covered in dust.  Behind the counter was a wall of shelving that looked like it might have once held bottles of liquor – possibly more than a decade ago.  Now it seemed it only sold spiderwebs and shot glasses full of dust.  This area of the casino had also seen better days.  Many of the nearby machines were broken, and few patrons frequented this part of the floor.  Perhaps this was a second bar that the Gambler had closed up as his foot traffic dipped?

“Well, your prompt said I get a reward,” Dom continued.  Leave it to the Gambler to try to wriggle out of paying him properly.  “So, it looks like it’s time to pay up.”

The man walked around the counter, stooping beneath it before coming back up wearing an apron and holding a feather duster.  “Can your reward be cleaning up this shit?” he asked, waving at the counter and empty shelves behind him.

Dom just stared back, slowly raising an eyebrow.

“Fine.  Fine.  I’m barely able to make ends meet as it is, but why not stick it to the small business owner?”  The Gambler grumbled with a wave of his hand.

A streamer of amber energy coiled away from his finger, before racing toward Dom.  He tried to dodge, but the energy followed him, wrapping around his head before drifting into his ears, nose, and mouth.  He breathed in sharply, and the energy was sucked down into his lungs before arcing out across his body like a lightning strike, leaving his fingertips and toes tingling.  It almost felt like he’d just touched an electric fence.

Before he could question what had happened, another prompt appeared before Dom.

New Ability:  Roll the Dice

Life’s a gamble.  But sometimes, it’s possible to weight the dice a bit in your favor.  With this ability, you gain increasing luck with each consecutive kill.  This skill also unlocks the ability to collect chips from humanoid opponents in the regular game world.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  +1 increased luck per kill.  Max stacks of 1.  Duration 15 seconds.  Refreshes on kill.  Multiplicative with the effects of Chaotic Blessing.

Dom’s brow furrowed as he reviewed the skill notice.  Now that was… interesting.  Chaotic Blessing had been pretty, well, chaotic.  But the effect had a number of unique applications.  For example, it gave Dom an ambient sense of his own and his group’s current level of danger.  And it was also responsible for how he’d met Adrian and found the chick.  If the effects could continue to scale upward, what other sorts of craziness might he encounter?

Surprisingly, he discovered he was actually curious to find out.

“Good enough?” the Gambler grunted.

“Sure,” Dom replied slowly.  “What does it mean about chips?”

The Gambler shook his head.  “Just what it says.  You can obtain them from killing humanoid creatures in the normal game world now.  And you can spend ‘em here.”

Dom cocked his head.  He wasn’t sure he saw the benefit.  He earned chips he could use to gamble away in the casino?  Hard to get too excited about that, but maybe there was more to the ability than met the eye – or the chips themselves.

Although, that led to another question he’d meant to ask.

Or rather, a question Adrian had posed that Dom couldn’t answer.

“What do you mean by ‘normal’ game world?  What is this place exactly?” Dom asked, gesturing at the casino, the few working slot machines nearby giving off a flickering glow.  “Adrian mentioned he doesn’t respawn in a place like this.  Actually, from what I can tell by looking online, I may be one of the only players that goes somewhere else when I die.”

“Hmph.  That’s a much bigger question,” the Gambler grumbled with a frown.  He sighed, reaching under the bar and pulling out a dusty bottle of whiskey.  “And one that might require a drink…”

The casino owner pulled down a glass from a nearby shelf and wiped it off carefully before sloshing some booze into the glass.  The Gambler eyed Dom, tipping the glass in his direction, but he just shook off the offer.  He’d never been much of a drinker.

The Gambler waved at one of the bar stools, and Dom took the hint, settling down softly and placing the snoozing chick on the counter to avoid waking it.  Oscar immediately crawled up on the wood and slinked toward the chick, sniffing it curiously.  When the chick opened one sleepy eye, he recoiled quickly, falling off the counter and skittering across the floor like death itself was following hot on his tail.  The bird just fell back asleep.

Dom stifled a smile as he observed the Gambler’s dour demeanor.

The man took a long swig of whiskey, downing half the contents in one go.  The glass soon thudded against the wooden bar.  Then he met Dom’s gaze evenly below his visor, his expression dead serious and the lights of the nearby machines reflecting off his irises like golden flames.  There was a sudden weight to his demeanor – a heaviness – that Dom found disconcerting.

“So, to understand what this place is,” the Gambler finally spoke up, “you first have to understand who I am.  Or rather, what I am.”  He took another long pull on the whiskey.

Dom could only imagine what he was about to say.

The Gambler sucked in a deep breath, and then…

“I’m a god,” he said simply.

Chapter 18 - Economics

Dom just stared back in silence.

“Yeah, okay.  If you don’t want to level with me, that’s fine.  I’ll just go back—” Dom began, turning away from the bar with a shake of his head.

The Gambler looked at him in surprise, a note of irritation flitting across his face.  “No.  I’m being serious.  I’m a god.”  He pointed at the casino.  “And this shithole?  This is my punishment.  A purgatory of sorts.  Prime real estate in the ass-bottom end of this digital universe.”

Dom hesitated at the man’s bitter tone.  He didn’t seem to be fucking with him.

The Gambler snorted, taking another swallow.  “It’s sort of ironic actually.  That they’d lock the ‘God of Happiness’ in this dump and without a single damn employee.”

“Okay, now I know you’re messing with me,” Dom replied, although the expression on the Gambler’s face looked anything but amused.  “The God of Happiness?”

“Wish I was,” the Gambler ground out.  “My five siblings and I – one for each affinity – were once the rulers of this digital theme park.  In our heyday, we were flush with mana and did whatever the hell we wanted.  I sure wasn’t dealing cards for drunk dipshits.  Or plunging toilets.”

He waved at the dust and cobwebs around him.  “Now?  Not so much.  Speaking of which, it isn’t ever too early to start planning for your retirement…” he muttered into his glass, trailing off into a dark chuckle at his own joke.

Dom shook his head, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to muster his thoughts.  “Okay, say for a second that I buy any of that.  You’re a god… of happiness.  And this is some sort of extra-dimensional prison.  Then how the hell did I wind up here?”

“Well, my siblings and I might have gotten slightly out of control last time, sort of like a divine Rumspringa.  And our punishment was to get locked away.  Now we can only interact with the outside world using an ‘avatar.’  So, we’ve been holding auditions – of a sort.  AO’s ‘Next Top Avatar,’ I guess.  Like you’ve heard about that Jason character, right?  Avatar of Darkness?”

“Yeah, the videos are… intense,” Dom offered.  Adrian had made him watch them.

Even for Dom, watching people get ripped apart by zombies had been unpleasant.

The Gambler nodded.  “Real piece of work if you ask me.  But I guess that old fart brother of mine was always into the broody ones.”

Dom’s thoughts were racing.  “Wait, so I’ve been auditioning to be your avatar?”

Gambler just pointed at him as he took another swallow.

“To do what exactly?”

A broad, mocking smile split the Gambler’s face, “Why, to spread happiness, of course!”

Dom just stared at him.  “Me?  Really?  Not sure I’m the best choice, but let’s just ignore that for a second.  How the hell would you even do that – spread happiness, that is?”

The Gambler smacked the bar.  “Now there’s a good question!” he replied, his eyes gleaming and a pulse of amber energy winding through his irises.  “Although, I’ll start with a question of my own.  How would you go about it?”

Dom shook his head.  “No idea.  Hand out money?  Endless pizza parties?  End hunger and disease or something?  Fight for world peace?”

The Gambler nodded along with each option.  “Same place I started too.  And all bullshit answers.  Believe it or not, people don’t really get it up for casual Fridays,” he added with a wink and another drink.

Dom frowned but stayed silent.  He’d just made that point, hadn’t he?  This just seemed like the pretext to launch into another long-winded rant.

Should have made him the God of Monologues, he grumbled to himself.

“Here, let me give you an example,” the Gambler continued.  “Back in your world, a TON of people have turned into groupies for this hippie guy who lived a long time ago – real penchant for turning water to wine, that one.”  The Gambler hesitated.  “Speaking of which, that would have been a fantastic business model.  Guy would have made a killing…

“Hmm, even the branding there would be spectacular,” he continued, eyeing his whiskey glass as he swirled the content.  “Could bottle it as ‘Holy Water.’  Plus, it would really get those butts in the pews and keep ‘em there, you know?  It’s certainly been effective for my business,” he murmured, waving at the casino floor.

“Is this getting around to a point?” Dom asked dryly.

“Sure.  You remember the story of the Garden of Eden?  Seemingly perfect place.  Great weather.  Tons of food.  No predators.  No one ages.  Sounds A-fucking-mazing.  Hard for anyone to be unhappy there, right?

“Wrong,” he continued, smacking the bar again.  “As soon as they built a fence around one damn apple tree, Adam and Eve were like, ‘let’s invent criminal trespass and larceny!’  Do happy people do that?”  The Gambler pointed at the patrons behind Dom, mindlessly pulling levers and gambling their money away.  “You see the same thing out there.  We’ve talked about this before.  People self-sabotaging.  Looking for some conflict.  A little bit of chaos.

“But put a pin in that for a second,” the gambler added while pouring himself another glass.

“Now, some people have a weird takeaway from this story.  They decided Adam and Eve somehow ‘invented’ evil.  They’d been seduced by a serpent or whatever.”

The gambler raised a hand.  “Another aside… of course they blamed everything on the snake!  And after he actually helped those two, poor idiots.  Typical stereotyping.  Serpents just get shit on – but they’re just another predator.  Meanwhile, dogs?  Cats?  We’ll cuddle those little bloodthirsty murderers all day long?  Much like that sleeping bundle of death there,” he added, pointing at the chick.

“Okay, but what does this have to with happiness?” Dom urged, not so gently, a frown plastered across his face.

The Gambler raised his glass.  “I’m getting there.  So, I took away a different lesson from that story.  The Eden one.”

“Which is what?”

“Easy.  If you give someone everything they want, they won’t be happy,” the Gambler responded simply.  “And I’d argue my little rule is the right takeaway.  Like put it in story form.  Tomorrow, you wake up with everything you ever wanted, would you really be happy?  And if so, would you stay happy?  And for how long?”

Dom mulled on that.  Right now, not dying would be pretty great.

But he also remembered what it was like before his diagnosis.  Had he been happy then?  He honestly wasn’t so sure.  There had been the stress of classes, and training, and paying his bills.  And if he were magically cured, how long would it take for him to return to normal?  To forget his fear?  To be consumed again by that revolving grind of work and training?

The Gambler observed his expression.  “See?  Not so easy, huh?  Alright, so let’s say that giving people everything they want won’t bring them happiness.  And even if it does, it won’t last long until they get a criminal apple craving.  And let’s be honest, giving everyone everything they want isn’t practical anyway.  People have conflicting desires.  And I’m not a fucking genie.”

Dom cocked his head.  That was sort of fair.

“But that little thought experiment leads to another interesting question: specifically, why?” the gambler asked, gradually raising one hand, palm down.  “Why is it that when I increase the supply of things that should make people happy, they don’t seem to get any happier?”

He leaned forward.  “It’s because humans experience things through contrast.  It’s baked into how you all define your concepts.  On/off.  Rich/poor.  Healthy/sick.  Happy and…  well, you get the idea.  It’s that contrast that allows you to experience the world.  So, I’d propose you can’t be happy without knowing pain, or sadness, or fear and hence why our snake was the hero of that stupid parable.  By getting those two morons to go apple picking, he opened them up to a whole range of new experiences and pushed them out of their comfort zone.  Made room for happiness.”

The Gambler downed his glass again.  Dom was starting to get alarmed at how fast the level of the whiskey bottle was dropping.

“That’s probably also why every philosopher since the Greeks have gone ‘round and ‘round trying to define ‘Happiness.’”  The gambler twirled his finger.  “Aristotle proposed it was about the perfection of human nature.  Socrates?  Living your best life – I’m paraphrasing a bit here, of course.  Present day life coaches and therapists?  All about being present and in the moment… you know, as long as those checks keep arriving each week.”

The glass thunked against the counter and the bottle sloshed again.

“But all of that’s a big steaming pile of horseshit.

“You know why they have trouble defining it?  Same reason I just gave you!  You can’t define happiness by itself.  It’s just the opposite of a bundle of different things – of pain, sorrow, fear, loss, depression, anxiety, discomfort.  That clusterfuck of painful shit.

“Like think about the times you were happiest.  You succeed after failing over and over again at something?  You get some presents on a birthday?  You get married?  Have a kid?  Have a cheat day on your diet?  In other words, the absence of failure, of want, of loneliness, of lack of purpose, and of hunger.”

Gambler tipped his visor.  “There you go.  Problem solved.  Thousands of years of spinning in philosophical circles, and I solved it in what?  Two minutes?  I’m ready for my book deal whenever?” He called out to no one in particular.  None of the patrons even looked up.

“Damn zombies,” the Gambler grumbled, pouring another drink.

“Okay…” Dom replied tentatively.  “I guess I kind of agree with you so far.  We need painful shit to experience pleasant shit.  But how does any of this help spread happiness?”

Gambler nodded.  “First, you have to understand what it is your selling, right?  That’s just business 101.  And this is important because each of those examples I just gave also have something else in common.  They’re scarce!”  A smile split his face, his eyes flashing again.

Although, his point didn’t quite land for Dom.  “Yeah.  Still lost.”

The Gambler deflated, sighing and pouring himself another drink as he muttered under his breath.  Then he took a deep breath.  “Okay, so we’ve got two options, right?  We can give people what they want – supply happiness.  But as we said, that doesn’t really work.  It’s impractical.  And even if we succeeded, there isn’t any room now for more happiness.  Because, again, happiness is just the opposite of unpleasant shit, and they wished away all the bad stuff.

“But, and this an important but, we can increase demand,” the Gambler offered with a grin.

Dom just stared at him, the Gambler’s strategy suddenly clicking into place.  He could see the next follow-up question: How do you increase the demand for happiness?

And the answer was obvious.  Painfully so.

“Wait… you don’t mean…”

The Gambler’s smile just widened.  “Yup.  We increase the demand for happiness by shaking shit up – by increasing the contrast.  I’ll admit, it’s a little counter-intuitive at first, but it makes a lot of sense.  Think about our examples.  One of the defining features of those happy moments is that they’re scarce, right?  Food tastes real damn good to a starving man.

“Not only that, but let’s say you quantified happiness.  Your run-of-the-mill guy eating a cheeseburger?  Maybe .1 happiness units.  But, you throw him in the desert for a few days without food and water and then give him the cheeseburger?  That just might be the happiest damn day of his miserable little life.  Let’s call that 100 happiness units.  So that guy would have to eat 1,000 burgers to achieve the same result.”

The Gambler shrugged.  “Same concept behind a place like this,” he said with a wave of the casino.  “Hours of pulling at a lever for a tiny, tiny chance at a payoff?  But damn, does that shit feel good when it happens.  And for others, it’s a chance to create a little scarcity.  People understand this instinctively, even if they won’t acknowledge it.  It’s why that married man over there is hitting on that blond.  Why that woman is rolling the dice on her wealth.  It’s why we feel antsy as our life becomes more secure and stable.”

Dom was rubbing at his temple again – suddenly wishing for some of that whiskey the Gambler was throwing back.  “So, let me get this straight, your argument is that the best way to create happiness is to… fuck with people?”

“I prefer to think of it as the economics of happiness,” the Gambler said.  He shot a glance at Dom.  “Might even be the title of a bestselling book.”

The Gambler waved his drink at him.  “But I’m not exactly going out on a limb here.  Did you know that the term ‘happiness’ is synonymous with luck in many European languages in your world?  As I said, it feels like most people already understand this point, even if they aren’t willing or able to admit it.

“Me, I just nudge it along a little,” the Gambler said, his eyes flashing amber. “And my numbers can’t be matched.”  With a snap of his fingers and glowing lines of yellow energy materialized at his back, growing and expanding.

They were rows and tables.  Odds and figures that were constantly changing, tiny notations scrawled beside them.  Player names, Dom realized.  They were pivoting, tilting, creating complex geometric patterns that bloomed outward into infinity – forming repeating shapes, circles and triangles.  And it just kept expanding, growing to form something that resembled a golden rose.  And above it all was a number, one that was swiftly ticking upward.

Total Happiness: 168,532,498,203,948

“God of Happiness?” the Gambler barked out a harsh laugh, staring at that number with a grim expression.  “I don’t sell happiness.  I make it.  I’m a farmer.  I sow despair that happiness might grow.  They should have called me the God of Chaos.”

With a wave of his hand, the energy dissipated, blasting away into motes of amber energy.

The light in the Gambler’s eyes began to fade.  He raised his glass to Dom.  “We all have our crosses to bear, god or man alike,” he murmured before another long pull on his whiskey.

Dom was struggling to pull his thoughts together.  “I don’t… I don’t think you can reduce something like happiness down to just hurting others,” he began slowly, shaking his head.  “Or quantify it like this.  It just feels wrong.”  A part of him was rejecting what he’d just seen, even if his mind was telling him the god’s logic checked out.

The Gambler’s eyes flitted open, meeting Dom’s.  “Really?  Look at your time here inside this digital theme park.  Glance behind the curtain.  Ignore the razzle-dazzle.  You walked into this world with a weight on your shoulders, and yet here you are now.”  He pointed at the chick, and then looked to Dom – his skin riddled with scars.

Dom hesitated.  The universe had certainly been shitting on him lately.  He’d entered AO terrified at the prospect of dying.  And yet, the game had immediately forced him to confront that fear.  He could still remember that first death in-game – how it had felt.  The relief.  The adrenaline.  How alive he’d felt.  How… happy?

Had his illness made room for that sensation?

Because he’d been chasing it ever since, the feeling growing weaker and weaker with each death – the same diminishing returns the Gambler was pointing to.  And so, he’d gradually begun to replace it.  Through his training and pride in his incremental progress.  In his relationship with Adrian, even his decision to take him on and train him.

He could remember the image of the bard trembling on a cliff.  The look on his face when he mastered a new song.  Dom standing amid a bloody field, his body aching yet triumphant.  And then a faint chirp pulled his gaze down, the chick whistling softly in its sleep.  Fuck.

It had just been so subtle it had crept up on him.

“I can show you your score if you like?” the Gambler offered with an arched eyebrow.

“No.  No, please don’t,” Dom replied quickly, raising a hand.

Dom took a deep breath.  “Alright, I guess I see your point, even if it still doesn’t sit quite right with me,” Dom admitted, lapsing into silence for a moment.  “I think it’s this avatar thing.  You’re basically just asking me to inflict pain on others.  That seems… sick.”

The Gambler cocked his head and swirled his whiskey.  “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.  But that’s not uncommon, is it – harming others to help them?  Let’s use an example from your world.  Don’t surgeons inflict pain for their patient’s own good?  But you aren’t going around calling them sadists, are you?”

Shit.  That wasn’t a horrible argument.

“Still…” Dom muttered, shaking his head.

The Gambler shrugged.  “That’s fine.  I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do.  I’m honestly fine with whatever – even with you rejecting the role of avatar.”  Oscar perked his head up at that.  His beady eyes watched the pair closely from the safety of one of the shelves behind the bar, still keeping his distance from the sleeping chick.

The Gambler ignored the rat, and his glass clinked down against the wood a moment later, the casino owner leaning forward toward Dom, his eyes searching his face.  “Although, I am curious about something.  What is it that you actually want to do?”

Dom hesitated at that.  Again, not dying would be awesome.  But that also didn’t feel like it was entirely within his control.  Not unless a long-lost aunt keeled over and left him a fortune and even that wasn’t a guarantee.  Short of that, he wasn’t really sure.  He could grudgingly admit that he’d enjoyed his time inside AO.  That rush of dying.  The training.  Adrian.  The chick.

But none of that really answered the question.

“I guess I don’t know,” Dom replied finally.  And he suddenly realized that might have been the first time he’d been honest with himself about that question since his diagnosis.

The Gambler just nodded, taking another swig of his whiskey.

Dom shook his head – the heaviness of this conversation weighing on him.

How had they even gotten here?  Oh yeah…

“If this place is some sort of purgatory and I can visit it, does that mean other people can come here?” Dom asked, jerking his head at the casino over his shoulder.

“Hmm,” the Gambler murmured, sparing a glance over his shoulder at Oscar.  “Well, we’re permitted to invite potential avatar candidates,” he offered finally.  “And since you just turned down the position – or are at least thinking on my employment offer – I suppose I’m still looking to hire someone…

The Gambler looked back to Dom.  “So, I guess the answer is yes?  But I don’t see why I should let a bunch of randos in here.”

“Because your casino is doing so well?”  Dom asked, sarcasm lacing his voice.  “Or did you just want to make sure your purgatory continues to suck as much as possible?”

The Gambler snorted.  “Or maybe mucking out toilets is just making room for my own happiness,” he offered with a bitter smile, taking another swallow.

Doom shook his head.  “Uh-huh.  But if other people came here, maybe you could hire some staff…”

The Gambler’s eye twitched, and his glass froze on his lips.  “Huh,” he grunted.

“Maybe someone to clean toilets.  Run the tables,” Dom continued.  “Hell, you might even start making some money.  Renovate parts of the casino…”

The god was practically salivating now.

“You still there?” Dom asked after several seconds passed.

“Yeah… um, just thinking,” the Gambler offered.  “Your idea has some small merit, I suppose.”  He looked at Dom archly over his glass.  “But keep in mind that this is my house.  I’m not gonna put up with any snowflakes.  They piss me off, they get the boot back into oblivion.”

“Sure.  That seems fair.”

“And, of course, they’ll need a pass to get in,” the Gambler added.

“A pass?” Dom asked in confusion.

“That chip I gave you when you first entered.  You’ll just need to give one to whoever you plan to invite.  Easy peasy now that you’ve earned Roll the Dice.”

“Perfect,” Dom murmured.  Right now, he was thinking about inviting Adrian in order to increase the efficiency of his training.  But if they ever expanded their party, it was good to know he’d have some options.

Although, that thought was interrupted as a timer in the corner of his vision indicated that he was almost ready to respawn.  “Looks like I’ve gotta go,” Dom spoke up, gingerly picking up the chick and heading back toward the front door.

“I wish you intense misfortune out there!” the Gambler called cheerily after him.

Dom just snorted softly.  A moment later, a stiff breeze blew through the casino, signaling that the traveler had returned to the regular game world.

Which left the Gambler and Oscar sitting there alone, the rat having moved back to the bar top, his eyes now staring at the god with unwavering focus.

“Don’t look at me like that, you little snitch,” the Gambler grunted at the rat.  “I’m not breaking any rules.  Bending maybe.  But rules are just guidelines anyway.”

The rat squeaked softly.

“No, I don’t like him,” the Gambler said in an incredulous voice.  “He’s just interesting.”

Another skeptical peep.

The Gambler mastered his expression.  “I’ll have you know I wasn’t smiling.  But if I was, it was because I was thinking about what this place might look like if we could increase foot traffic and hire some help.  It has nothing to do with Dom.”

Oscar just let out a long slow squeak.

“I think I hate you,” the Gambler grumbled, then downed the rest of the drink.

He needed the fortification, because it was time to get back to work.

Chapter 19 - Start-Up

Even after Dom returned to Aislen, the Gambler’s question lingered with him.

“What is it that you actually want to do?”

It just kept circling through his mind on a revolving loop, mimicking the circle his feet were pounding around Aislen.  Dom’s breathing was slow and steady.  He was putting in just enough effort for the humid air to coat his skin with sweat.  That pace let the chick keep up, its tiny legs scrambling along beside him.  Already, its feathers had begun to thicken and fill out, and Dom could have sworn the creature had grown at least an inch.  But even that cute scene and the gawking gazes of the townsfolk weren’t enough to distract him.

There was only that gods damned question.

On the one hand, the Gambler hadn’t posed anything new or daring, but what Dom wanted had always seemed like an esoteric problem compared to more immediate stuff.  You know, mundane things like food, shelter, and money?  Even his decision to study kinesiology had been motivated more by pragmatism than desire.  He was good at it, and he expected he could make money doing it – whether he actually wanted to train or coach others for a living had never really factored in.

So, Dom had put off that question, thinking there would always be another day, another week, another year to figure out what he truly wanted.  Maybe some vague, undefined time after college when he had some money in his pocket, time on his hands, and the freedom to make those sorts of decisions.  But there might not be a tomorrow.  His time was running out – and fast.  Even with the time compression from the game, it wouldn’t last forever.

Maybe that was why it had been so hard to face that stupid question.

Or maybe he’d always been running from it – just sticking his head in the sand.

Everyone was destined to die, after all.  He could still remember that first conversation with the Gambler.  The man was clearly a cynical asshole.  But he wasn’t wrong either.  The clock was running on everyone’s life – most just didn’t appreciate that until the hourglass was almost empty.  There was a sort of willful blindness to the way they walked through life, as if by ignoring their fate, they could convince themselves that it wouldn’t happen to them.

That they might not ever die—

“Fucking finally!” a voice called from behind Dom, interrupting his thoughts.

He slowed and turned to find Adrian approaching at a swift pace.  He’d expected the bard to be depressed and moody after the loss of his “baby,” so he was surprised to find a large smile painted across his face.  It seemed the bard had made an impression on the chick, and the tiny creature hid demurely behind Dom’s foot as it saw Adrian coming.

“How’d you even find me?” Dom asked, his brow furrowed.

Adrian shrugged.  “We’re in a group.  I can see your icon on the map.  But that isn’t important.”  He sucked in air, trying to catch his breath, holding up a hand.

“I think I found a way to raise some money to buy a new instrument,” Adrian declared moments later.

Dom raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  That was fast.”

Adrian shook his head.  “It just came to me as I was waiting for my respawn.  I was going over everything I had to do to buy that damn thing in the first place—"

The bard froze, finally noticing the chick.  “Wait, has that walking happy meal gotten bigger?”

Dom just offered a shrug, the chick pressing itself closer to his leg, peering up at him with eyes that seemed a touch too large for its slender frame.  It was actually kind of cute.

Adrian shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter. The point is that I think I might have a more efficient way to make that money back.  But it’s going to require your help.”

“Well, I’m on board,” Dom offered. “Like I said, I’m willing to do whatever it takes, especially after I took the chick on as a pet.”

And besides, I could use a distraction right now – a problem I can actually solve, Dom added silently.  Even if he knew that was all it was.  One more distraction from the inevitable…

“I was hoping you’d say that.  There’s no time to lose.  Follow me.  Oh, and I guess you can bring that ‘baby’ murdering little beast along,” Adrian said with a glare at the chick.  “We’re going to need to make a few stops…”  He pivoted on his heel and heading into the depths of Aislen, jabbering to himself and clearly assuming that Dom would follow.

The chick just looked up at Dom with a skeptical expression.  He stooped and lifted the bird into his arms, placing it gently in a small bag at his waist.  “It’s alright,” he said softly, stroking the bird’s head with one finger.  “He’ll come around eventually.”

The chick didn’t look convinced.

***

“Alright, here we are!” Adrian announced with a grand flourish.

Dom just stared at the storefront before him, and the chick softly chirped its own confusion.

The building didn’t look like much.  It was a ramshackle affair on the very southern edge of town.  By the looks of it, the structure possibly once served as a stable, maybe during a time when the people here actually had a use for horses.  Although time clearly hadn’t been kind to it, evidenced by the weathered and rotting wood.  A door led into a dimly lit interior, and the entire side of the structure had been knocked out – a lean-to roof creating a sort of outdoor workshop.

“Where exactly is here?” Dom offered.

“This ‘ere is my shop,” a man spoke up, walking around the building and wiping off his hands with a rag.  He was wearing thick overalls smeared with soot and grease, one eye missing and covered with a thick leather band.

“This is Refr, the most prestigious blacksmith in all of Aislen,” Adrian offered with a grin.

“You mean the only half-decent blacksmith in all of Aislen,” the man replied, rolling his good eye.

Refr grimaced as his gaze shifted to a passing group of travelers, their clothing and armor marked with the telltale symbol of <The Jackals>.  They appeared to be loaded down for a farming trip.  “Or more like the guild’s bitch, the way they treat me,” he grumbled sourly.

A few travelers noticed Dom and Adrian, not-so-subtly gesturing in their direction and speaking to each other in hushed voices.  It seemed stories of the pair’s exploits had continued to spread around the city – likely circulated by two rather chatty guardsmen if Dom had to guess.  But most just spared them a dismissive glare as they marched toward the city’s gate.

“Seems you two aren’t well loved either,” Refr commented with a harsh chuckle.  “Honestly, that might be the best recommendation you can come by.”

“Have they been giving you a hard time?” Dom asked in confusion.

Adrian jumped in.  “Rulership of the city was pretty decentralized before we showed up – not much need when none of the residents can safely leave town.  But <The Jackals’> officers saw a power vacuum and stepped in.  Their farming groups are the only ones that can manage to survive outside of Aislen, so they’re also the only ones who can complete city quests or bring new resources back into town. Hence, why most of the city looks rather… weathered.”

“Just say what you mean.  This place is falling apart,” Refr grunted, kicking weakly at a nearby fence post, the rotting wood snapping.  “But you’re right for the most part.  They’re a bunch of hoarding assholes – keep all their materials to themselves, use their own craftsmen.  And when they do push work to the local merchants, they shortchange us – act like we should be grateful for their scraps.  Most of us are barely getting by.”

He snorted.  “Think they’re hot shit because they venture out into the jungle, but you can still see the fear in their eyes, like scared children.  If I were immortal, I’d show them a thing or two,” Refr grunted, cracking his knuckles.

The blacksmith’s good eye shifted to Dom, his gaze drifting up and up and up, eyeing the scars that crisscrossed his skin.  “Now you?  You have the look of a man that isn’t afraid to die.  And you’ve got some meat on you, dontcha?  I swear you look familiar…”

The blacksmith suddenly snapped his fingers.  “Feng and Chin were talking about some huge guy – crazy ol’ bastard that keeps running off into the jungle.”

Dom just nodded, his expression stoic.  “That would be me.”

“Well, you certainly look intimadatin’,” Refr observed.

“Oh, he’s much more than that,” Adrian offered.  “And that brings us around to the point of our visit, we’re looking for work.”

Refr snorted, waving him away and turning back to his store.  “Oh, don’t come here with that noise again.  I don’t need you sweeping my floors and throwing out the piss pot – got a boy for that work now.  You can take your beggin’ somewhere else.”

Dom looked to Adrian in surprise, the bard shooting him a chagrined look and blushing slightly.  He hadn’t realized that the bard had literally been cleaning up shit in-game to afford that piece of crap guitar.  What else had Adrian had to do to obtain his “baby?”  Regardless, it certainly went a long way toward explaining his reaction when the chick destroyed it.

“Hey, hold on now,” Adrian piped up quickly. “I think you’ll want to hear me out.  The two of us made it down into the valleys.”

Refr froze, turning slowly, his eyes now appraising.  “Really?  Now that’s more interestin’.” A pause as he deliberated.  Then, finally, “Come along inside then.  Let’s chat where there are fewer pryin’ ears.”

Adrian shot Dom a look over his shoulder as he followed Refr inside.  “See?  I can be persuasive when I try.”

The chick just let out a low, incredulous cluck, and Dom shook his head as the pair followed the blacksmith inside.

The store’s interior was harder on the eyes than the exterior.  The whole building seemed to be coated in a thick dusting of ash.  It wasn’t so much a store as a trash heap, piles of discarded metal lining the floor and tools littering every flat surface.  A large furnace had been installed at the back of the reformed stable, built from bricks that had long ago turned a solid, dark black.

Refr charted a path through the junk with ease, the pair following close behind, giving Dom an opportunity to examine the piles more carefully.  He slowed as he noticed one stack off to the side, resting on a table and hidden under a thick tarp.  Dom lifted the cloth gently, and his eyes widened as he saw what lingered below.

This wasn’t just scrap metal.  These were… appliances?  One almost looked like it could have been a blender.  Or at least, the medieval equivalent.  Dull gems glimmered where the motor would have sat, reminding Dom of the slot machines back in the casino.  Dom re-inspected the piles around him, realizing that most of the junk was discarded projects that resembled modern-day tools.  A circular hand saw.  What might have been an umbrella.

“What is this?” Dom murmured to himself.

“Ahh, these are just some projects,” Refer said suddenly, the man appearing at his shoulder and looking mildly embarrassed.  “Travelers tell all kinds of stories about tools from your world.  So, I’ve been tryin’ my hand at makin’ some – metal ain’t good for much else.  Even been playin’ around with using discarded mana crystals from Madison’s shop.”  He kicked at a pile.  “Not that most of this junk works.  Bad materials… and I can’t afford to buy decent gems.”

Dom cocked his head as he stared at the piles.  That made sense, he supposed.  But he could feel the ghost of an idea at the edges of his mind – just refusing to come into focus.

“Anyway, the valleys, huh?” Refr grunted, switching topics.  He waved at Adrian.  “He tellin’ the truth or just full of panther shit?”

“He’s telling the truth,” Dom confirmed, focusing his attention back on the blacksmith.

“And if you don’t trust me, you can always talk to Feng and Chin,” Adrian piped up.

“Hmph,” Refer grunted, rubbing at his chin.  “Well, in that case, we could probably work something out.  There are unrefined metals in the riverbeds and caverns around these parts – it’s just that most folks can’t survive the trip there and back.  If ya’ll could bring back some ore, I could make it worth your while in trade or—”

“Coin would be our preference,” Adrian interjected.

Refr raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sure it would.  But you should know better than most that coin is scarce ‘round these parts.”

“Not that scarce,” Adrian replied dryly.  “I’m sure you can find a way – especially if it means you can start forging weapons and armor again.  I suspect that’s going to look attractive to the other travelers.  We might even be willing to give you a discount on that ore.  Allow you to underbid <The Jackals’> crafters, maybe?”

There was a gleam in the bard’s eye that Dom hadn’t seen before – the way he leaned forward.  It was almost predatory.  And it suited him.

Refr snorted, a slow smile spreading across his face.  “It seems there might be some brains under that silly hat,” he offered in return – Adrian’s eye twitching slightly, although only Dom seemed to notice.  “I think we might be able to make a deal…” he trailed off, offering a hand.

As the bard shook it, a notice appeared in the air.

New Quest:  Aggressive Anti-Trust

It seems <The Jackals> have been slowly putting the resident merchants and crafters out of business, hoarding materials they recover from the jungle, and underbidding the locals.  On top of that, many of the other players inside Aislen have no choice but to purchase from the guild at exorbitant prices, further forcing them to join <The Jackals’> ranks.  But perhaps an industrious pair of entrepreneurs might be able to break up this medieval monopoly?

Difficulty:  A

Success:  Complete gathering quests for the local merchants.

Failure:  Uh, die?  Don’t complete the quests?

Reward:  Sweet, sweet cash flow.

Dom and Adrian were escorted out of Refr’s shop a few minutes later, the gruff blacksmith now handling them with kid gloves.  The guy was all smiles at this point, likely thinking of the mountain of coin they were about to shower upon him.

Dom side-eyed Adrian.  “Not bad,” he grunted.

The bard just shrugged, shooting him a grin.  “Like I said, I’m a people person at heart.”

Dom snorted in amusement.  “So, I take it your plan is to visit these other merchants and crafters?  Make a list of what they need and then create a training circuit through the jungle?”

Adrian just pointed at him.  “You got it.  You can praise me whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll admit, it’s a solid idea,” Dom offered.

More than solid, really.  It was downright clever.  Although, he suspected the guild might not see it that way.  On the other hand, Dom wasn’t exactly enthused about the way they were taking advantage of the other players – or the residents.  The NPCs’ behavior was just a bit too “real” for him to wave off how the guild treated them, including driving their businesses into the ground.

“Where to next?” Dom finally asked.

“Apothecary, leatherworker, a few other shops,” Adrian murmured distractedly.  He was more focused on waving at the air to bring up a map of the city and marking each location with a yellow waypoint.

“Then let’s do it.  Maybe you can even upgrade your wardrobe,” Dom grunted, stepping down the street.  “You know, maybe find something a little more fashionable.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Dom couldn’t help but smile.  The bard quickened his pace to catch up, glancing at Dom.  “Says the guy that only ever wears a cloth sack,” the bard muttered.  “I’ll have you know, my fashion sense is grandmaster level.  I could even teach you a thing or two.”

“I bet you could.”  Dom’s smile widened as Adrian launched into a tirade about his attire and the poor quality of the tailors here in town.

Dom might not be sure yet what he wanted to do with the time he had left.

But this didn’t seem so bad for now.

Chapter 20 - Territorial

Fire seared the dense vegetation, a wall of destruction that pushed back at the green hell just on the other side of those flames.  The creatures that inhabited the jungle were tough, but they weren’t immune to the scorching heat.  They fled from the fires, cawing, crowing, and growling.  Birds shot up into the sky, almost invisible behind the dense cloud of smoke.  Other beasts of fang and claw didn’t have that luxury and were forced to press deeper into the depths of this mountainous island.

Black smoke curled up into the air and filled the area.  And as that wall of flame inched forward, it left blackened cinders and ash in its wake.  Booker and the other members of <The Jackals> stomped through those charred remains, each footfall stirring up a spiral of ash that was carried along by the wind – a grey-black mist that drifted toward the east.

Booker watched this scene attentively.

A line of fire mages channeled their mana into the Fire Wall while Nova directed a contingent of air mages to block the smoke and ash from billowing back into the guild’s ranks and contain and concentrate the blaze.  More of the guild’s foot soldiers ringed the party, armed with steel and bows and robed in thick chainmail, their eyes on the surrounding forest – wary of any creatures that might flee back toward their group in their panic.

With her rounds complete, Nova headed back toward Booker, swiping at the mixture of soot and sweat that coated her brow.  “This place is a nightmare,” she grunted as she approached.  “It was hot enough before, but with these fire mages at work…”

“It’s like an outdoor sauna,” Booker acknowledged with a grunt.  It was actually worse than that.  In a few places, the heat had turned the moisture that pooled along the ground into steam hot enough to sear skin.

Nova shot Booker a sour expression as she eyed him, noting that not a single trace of soot or smoke marred his clothing, his tunic immaculate.  “Not that you ever seem fazed by this shit,” she muttered.  “Looks like you just stepped out of the shower.”

“That’s just my impeccable style,” he shot back with a faint smile.

Nova snorted and looked off toward the south and west, shielding her eyes from the sun.  A black trail stretched for miles, winding its way back to Aislen, evidence of just how far they’d come.  That was days and weeks of work in-game behind them.  The result of hundreds of travelers working together, slowly carving a path deeper and deeper into the jungle – granting them access to more resources and perhaps eventually offering the travelers an escape from this hellhole.

The air mage’s gaze was wistful.  “Speaking of a bath… can you imagine that I once thought Aislen would have a traditional bathhouse?  Or like a natural spring?  Maybe it was the oriental theme to the buildings.”

“Or from watching way too much anime,” Booker replied with a chuckle.

“Hey, you calling me an otaku?” Nova shot back with a smile of her own.

“I wouldn’t be that reckless with my life,” Booker answered, placing his hand to his heart.  “At least not until we finish up out here.”

Nova sighed as she surveyed the work.  “How is the rest of the road holding up?” she asked, side-eyeing Booker.

“As well as can be expected.  The jungle keeps growing back.  It’s easier to maintain the road than it is to carve out new territory,” he replied, his expression souring.

He left the rest of his fears unspoken. Nova already knew the problem they faced.  Eventually, they’d reach a point where it would be difficult to maintain the road.  They only had so many fire mages, after all.  And while there was a steady influx of new travelers, not all of them were suited for that particular sort of magic – despite the guild’s efforts to cultivate it.  But at least they could still be useful.  Those without magic could still serve as soldiers.  And those without the temperament for combat supported their efforts from the rear, focusing on mastering their crafting skills in order to outfit the guild’s raid groups.

Although, there were others that refused to join their ranks.  Wasted potential by Booker’s estimation.  A group that did little but bitch and moan from within Aislen – stirring up shit and doing little to aid in their mission to escape this place, even if they would eventually benefit from the guild’s efforts.

Perhaps some sort of toll would be appropriate, Booker thought darkly.  The look on their faces would almost be reward enough, assuming they ever made it that far.

“Of course, I’d find you two lounging around,” a voice barked from behind them.

The pair turned to find a familiar form approaching, two curved blades sheathed along his back.  His mail was damaged, torn in a few places, and blood stained the metal, evidence of a fight.  And a real one if Sean had actually taken a hit.  As one of their raid captains, he’d out-leveled and out-geared most of the guild.

Behind him marched the remainder of his raid group.  They were haggard, bloodied, and tired – but they seemed upbeat.  That might be due to the pile of loot they were dragging along behind them on makeshift wooden sleds.  What might have once been cannons.  A wagon axle.  Scrap metal too beaten down and deformed to be recognizable any longer.  Native materials.  Woods and ores.  A few skins from some of the wildlife that had been unlucky enough to cross paths with the raid.

“What can I say?  We can’t all be as strapping and heroic as yourself,” Nova answered dryly.

Sean’s smile just widened, and he offered her a shallow bow.

“Looks like a pretty good haul,” Booker offered, gesturing at the sleds.

Sean shot a glance over his shoulder.  “Not terrible, no.  Although, those little green assholes put up a hell of a fight this time.  We lost about 30% of our raid.”

Booker shook his head.  “Firstbloods?”

“Most of ‘em.  A few logged out as soon as they saw what we were facing,” Sean admitted, shaking his head incredulously.  “We’ll have to cull a few more from our ranks or make ‘em work with the other wrenches.”  Many of their guild referred to the crafters that way – a term their support group didn’t much care for.  It had become synonymous with cowardice.

Booker restrained a sigh.  These internal guild divisions didn’t help morale.  But unfortunately, he had little choice but to incentivize the raiders who bore the brunt of the burden.  Those who braved the jungle earned the greatest rewards.  Special loot.  Spots in easier raid groups.  And then their levels quickly outpaced the support group.  This inequality often tended to make the raiders bigheaded – the travelers forgetting that it was their gear that helped them survive.

“Unavoidable,” Nova offered with little compassion.  “Just shoot me the list, and I’ll take care of it.”  She eyed the surviving travelers, the group slumping to the ground or sitting on the sleds.  “And the levels and skill ups should help the others.”

Sean cocked his head.  “Sure, but our numbers aren’t looking great.  We only have a few hundred raid-ready members.”  He waved at the nearby wall of flames.  “And the longer this damn thing gets, the harder it is to defend it.  We’re already stretched thin.”

“There’ll always be more recruits,” Booker grunted.

“Will there always be more equipment?  Or training?” Sean shot back with a raised eyebrow.  “A lot of these firstbloods didn’t even have real weapons or armor this time.  I mean, they’re still chickenshits for logging out before the fight even began, but I don’t entirely blame them if they’re only using secondhand armor and weapons.  Is there a problem with the wrenches or something?”

Booker gestured at Nova, and she took the hint, creating a dome of shimmering amber air around them – the sound of the other travelers and the crackling flames suddenly vanishing.  There was no sense airing guild issues in front of the others.

Sean shot him a knowing glance.  “So, there is a problem.”

Booker nodded.  “Production has been down.  We have the materials, but the local merchants haven’t been as interested in picking up our projects, and most of our members are still leveling their crafting skills.  The quality of what they can produce right now is subpar.”

The guild had prioritized giving projects to their own members for the skill increases, but there was some work that only the more experienced residents could handle – specialty items like magic weapons and armor.  And out here in the jungle, that was the difference between life and death, especially for their newer members.

“Really?” Sean asked, wiping at his face with a rag he pulled from his bag.  “I thought we had that nailed down.  They seemed grateful for the work before.”

“They were,” Booker replied dryly.  “But that was because we were the only ones able to supply the materials they needed.  They didn’t have much choice.”

Sean glanced at him skeptically – even Nova raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Are you suggesting that someone outside the guild has been supplying them with mats?” Nova asked in an incredulous tone.

There were a few solo players in town.  But they typically couldn’t make it much farther than the first islands.  And even if they could, how was one person going to manage to haul back supplies?  The in-game bags reduced the weight of whatever was stored inside, but there was still a limit to how much they could store.  The weight could quickly overwhelm even the strongest players, hence why the guild had resorted to hauling their loot on wooden sleds.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Booker replied.  “I’m telling you that someone has been supplying them.  And I’m not talking about the occasional piece of ore or scrap of leather.  All of the local craftsmen have turned down our contracts.  Someone is hauling back a ton of mats.”  He sighed, rubbing at his temple.  “But it’s worse than that.  The merhcnats are now pumping out high-quality gear and selling it at prices below our own.  So, we can’t even afford to compensate by purchasing materials off the auction house.”

The pair were shaking their heads now.  He could see the same question painted across their faces.  Who the hell could manage that?

“Did someone start another guild?” Sean asked.

Booker snorted out a laugh.  There’d been some attempts, but they’d been quick to stamp that out.  There was barely enough room for one guild in Aislen.  Even hoarding all of the materials and players, they were still barely scraping by as it was.

“I think it’s two players,” Booker said finally.

“Two players…” Nova echoed, looking at Sean.

“You’re joking, right?” the raid captain asked.

“I wish I was,” Booker answered.  “But best I can tell, only two people are supplying them.  I had a couple firstbloods stake out the local shops to figure out who was supplying them.”

“That seems—” Nova began.

“Impossible?” Booker interjected.  “I thought so too.  But I think it’s this Dom character – and he has a companion now.  Some guy that insists he’s playing as a bard of all things.”

Sean ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair.  “Oh c’mon.  Even if these two guys are responsible – how is that even possible?  Are they hacking or something?  Have they found another way through the jungle… or maybe an exploit?”

“All good questions,” Booker acknowledged.  “And I don’t know the answer.  We haven’t been able to follow them through the jungle.” He looked meaningfully at Sean.

The raid captain sighed.  “Which I suppose is why you asked me to stop here on my way back to Aislen, huh?  You want me to take these guys out?”  Nova looked at Booker with a questioning glance, and he held up a hand to forestall her questions.

“Not exactly.  I want you to figure out what the hell is going on,” Booker answered.  “And if Dom and the bard are somehow responsible for this… maybe we should recruit them.”

Nova was nodding now.  “We could certainly use more competent members.”

“You mean more deadweight we have to carry and share loot with?” Sean asked sourly, looking to Nova for support.  She just shook her head, eyeing the wall of flame with a dour expression.  Sean let out a frustrated huff.  “Fine.  So, what exactly do you want from me?”

Booker eyed the raid captain.  He was a loose cannon and often let his ambition and greed get the better of him.  That made him hungry and a good raider – someone who was willing to take risks, which they needed.  He was also the only person who could possibly keep up with this pair, at least if the rumors were to be believed.  But he wasn’t… diplomatic.

“I think I have a rough idea of where they’re going when they head out into the jungle.  They’re taking the untamed bridges,” Booker explained, pulling up his map and marking the area where he suspected the pair was farming – a few miles from their own road.  “I’d like you to scout this area.  See what they’re up to.  Maybe give them a test run, and check if they’re the real deal.  If so, I’d like you to convince them to join us.”

Sean eyed the map, his brow scrunching.  “This is pretty far outside our scouted territory.”  He glanced at Booker.  “I’m going to need our more experienced players.”

“Take whoever you need.”

Sean nodded, turning back to the map.  “This also isn’t far from one of the valley dungeons,” he murmured, speaking half to himself and marking a location closer to their fledgling road.  He cocked his head.  “That dungeon is bigger than most, but I’m familiar with the area, and it should be doable with a crack team.  It might make for a good test…”

Booker and Nova shared a skeptical look.

“You sure that isn’t too much?” Nova asked.

Sean shrugged.  “Hey, Booker was the one that wanted me to test their mettle.”  He waved at the group of weary and bloodied travelers behind him.  “Is there a better way?”

Booker and Nova hesitated.  That was fair… kind of.

“But what if these guys refuse to sign up?” Sean asked, a feral gleam in his eye.  “Sounds like they could be a real pain in the ass in terms of gearing our own.”

Booker immediately saw his thinking, as if his intent wasn’t clearly painted across his face.  Of course, Sean would be the first to think about taking out the competition – especially if it made it easier to secure his own loot.  He’d picked that particular dungeon for a reason.

“Well, then that might be a good place for them to disappear,” Booker answered, nodding slowly.  “Assuming you can be discreet,” he added, glancing at Sean.

The man just laughed in response, pivoting back toward his raid group.  “Oh c’mon.  You know I’m the sort of guy that gets things done,” he remarked.

In a blur of movement and a crackle of electricity, one of Sean’s swords struck against Nova’s barrier, carving cleanly through the mana, the globe bursting apart in a gust of wind.  And only moments later, he was shouting at his raid group and motioning back toward Aislen, the travelers reluctantly rising to their feet and grabbing at the ropes attached to the sleds.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Nova asked softly as they watched Sean depart.

“No, but do you have a better one?” Booker asked.

Her silence was the only answer he needed.

Chapter 21 - Efficient

Dom and Adrian had been busy over the last few days in-game.

After they’d spoken to the other merchants in town, they had quite the shopping list.

Minerals and ores from the riverbeds.  Fungus from damp, shadowy parts of the inner valleys.  Budding flowers from the treetops.  Hides and skins from an exotic mix of creatures.  Crystals from caves carved into the base of the mountainous islands – the rivers having eroded the rock down to a smooth finish, burrowing deeply into the stone.  Even the hardwood from some of the trees was valuable, allowing the crafters to create furniture, repair their homes, and craft wooden weapons – exquisite longbows and the shafts for their swords, axes, and staves.

Each merchant and crafter had originally had the same reaction as Refr – skepticism or open hostility morphing into incredulous surprise before evolving into something different… an almost hopeful expression, accompanied by enthusiastic smiles and handshakes.  If anything, Refr had understated just how desperate the residents had become in the wake of <The Jackals’> monopoly over the city’s economy and scarce resources.

Even Feng and Chin had stepped up, offering a few cheap bags to store the materials – which they’d quickly discovered acted as a sort of extra-dimensional storage container.  As far as Dom could tell, they seemed to be able to hold either a total weight or volume, with the cheap bags holding about two or three cubic feet or roughly 50 pounds.  That was more than enough for them to start and allowed Dom to drop his barrel, which helped with mobility.

They were immediately forced to change up their training circuit to harvest the new materials.  They now took a winding path across the neighboring mountains, down into the valleys, and then looped back up toward Aislen.  The goal wasn’t to die – not anymore.  It was to collect as many resources as possible and then haul ass back to the city to dump their stuff.  If one of them died, the other would collect their gear and try to make it as far back to town as possible.  They would eventually respawn, and they could always collect the bags on their next attempt.

However, this new routine wasn’t without its pitfalls.

The first problem they encountered was simply getting to many of the materials.

Refr had forgotten to mention that the riverbeds were often up to 50 feet deep.  They were also filled with blood-sucking leeches, some sort of fish that was all teeth, and “Crocadillos” wandered near the banks – a more heavily armored version of the real-life creature.  And let’s be clear here, that wasn’t even close to a complete list of the new water-born monsters they encountered.  The jungle was a zoologist’s wet dream.

They didn’t have much better luck with the other ingredients.

The apothecary had asked them to collect certain rare flowers which only grew near the treetops, forcing them to climb hundreds of feet – which, of course, had them encountering the monkey armies that roamed those branches.  In the middle levels, plants became their primary problems – algae, flowers, vines, and petals that could poison, spray drug-infused pollen, snatch at them, and cut their skin like razorblades.  It seemed those plants had learned to prey on the birds over time, immobilizing them and then liquifying their remains.

Even when they finally managed to make it to the treetops, there were thousands of those gods-damned birds, the rainbow-colored creatures diving at them with abandon, cutting into hands, fingers, and faces as they tried to pick the flowers.  They also learned that their bright plumage served another purpose.  Their feathers were actually lined with thin crystals that could conjure illusions and blind them…

Which was a bit of a problem while perched hundreds of feet above the ground.

When they got fed up with climbing trees, the pair had tried plunging into the caves.  That had to be easier, right?  At least they couldn’t fall to their deaths repeatedly.  Except that assumption had been dead wrong – a pun that amused Adrian to no end.

Those caverns and tunnels were littered with toxic slimes, bats that emitted an ear-drumming shattering sonic wave, and luminescent plants that lured in their prey and then exploded into plumes of acid.  Even once they learned how to navigate and escape those tunnels, they often emerged bleeding from the ears and their skin covered in chemical burns.

Possibly the easiest material to harvest was leather and hides.  The native creatures now flocked to Dom and Adrian almost immediately upon entering the jungle, drawn by Dom’s truly terrible luck multiplier while they were running along the forest floor.  And between Arian’s War Chant and Dom’s incredible stats, they could make short work of most creatures – unless they were just completely overwhelmed.

The only problem there was that the chick seemed to be a huge fan of meat.  Not that its diet was limited to flesh, of course.  It would actually eat anything – even rock and crystals.  However, it clearly preferred fresh meat.  It would pounce on any corpses almost immediately and would peck at Dom and Adrian if they stepped too close, its beak easily drawing blood despite Dom’s reinforced skin.  Although, once they’d shown the bird that they just wanted to skin the creature first and had no intention of stealing its meal, it had begun helping, cutting open the beasts with its beak before devouring muscle, bone, and organs with abandon – leaving the skin intact.

And with each body consumed, the chick began to grow.  Fast.  Within just a few in-game days, it was already more than a foot tall, and its feathers had filled out into a bright yellow, a red streak running along the top of its head.  Its body had also widened.  Thick muscle now ran along its thighs and breast, the product of running along beside the pair, climbing trees, plunging into the rivers, and racing down into the caves.  The damn thing was fearless.  Even with its small stature, other creatures had begun running away from the tiny bird.

Just like the chick, Dom and Adrian also gradually began to adjust to this new training regime as days swept past in-game – gaining more stats, new skills, and their bodies hardening.  However, it wasn’t just training that helped them succeed.  They used their heads.  Even without an instrument, Adrian could still sing, which mimicked the effects of his songs – albeit with a much weaker effect.  But it was enough to lure away creatures, startle the birds long enough for Dom to pick flowers, and they had discovered that aquatic creatures could be pretty harsh critics.  They fled immediately at the sound of his voice.

As they improved, their circuit became faster and their deaths less frequent.  As a result, the materials became more plentiful, which is how they ran into a new problem.

Specifically, storage.

The cheap bags were okay, but they didn’t hold much, especially when it came to bulky or heavy materials, forcing Dom and Adrian to focus on one type of material at a time.  That was fine for purposes of training or exploring a new area, but wasn’t terribly efficient if they couldn’t collect materials from multiple areas.  They discovered they could purchase better bags with expanded storage on the in-game auction house, but they were ludicrously expensive, sometimes costing thousands of gold.  Gold they didn’t have yet.

So, they’d been forced to improvise a cheaper solution.

While they couldn’t afford better bags, the cheap ones were plentiful – handed out to new travelers as part of their orientation.  So, they began collecting them, haggling with the other travelers using the hard-won gold from harvesting materials in small batches.  And once they had collected a few dozen, they labeled them – the local tailor more than happy to sew on colored bands to identify ores, plants, and hides.  Although, that still left one problem.

They needed a way to carry dozens of the bags at once.

That’s where Dom’s barrel came back into the picture once more.  After mastering the rivers and the treetops and planning a route, he started doing their runs with the empty barrel.  It threw off his balance and made it hard as hell to swim – but he could always shrug it off before he leaped into the river.  He also quickly grew strong enough to haul himself up to the treetops with the barrel.  And each time they filled a bag, they just threw it inside.

With this problem solved, they began farming in earnest.  Down into the rivers to collect ores.  Racing through dark caves, their clothing still damp.  Then up into the treetops, where the cooler air took away the sting of the chemical burns, and their lack of functional eardrums helped cover the harsh cries of the birds.  And as they traveled, Adrian would often sing or Dom would practice his shouts, luring in creatures that they would take out in waves, feeding the bodies to the chick and storing the hides.  Each trip netted them hundreds of pounds of materials.

And as the materials began to flow back into Aislen, the local crafters and merchants started to produce again.  Refr’s forge was going night and day.  The lights were always on in the tailor and apothecary shops.  Many of the owners had even started hiring residents to help them pump out new products and work through the evening hours.

Because the demand was staggering.

Not every player was allied with <The Jackals> and the local resident population was still substantial.  And now goods were flowing through the city – at rock bottom prices thanks to Dom and Adrian.  Players began purchasing almost all of their goods from the local merchants, abandoning <The Jackals>.  And with that new gear, a handful of independent traveler groups were even managing to survive the first few mountain islands outside of Aislen, bringing even more mats back to the city.

It was a positive feedback loop of the best kind.

Dom felt like he was watching the city come alive again – shaking off its fear and stupor.  He’d even seen more than a few players talking animatedly as they marched out of town, no longer cowering in the city or racing to <The Jackals> for help.

Although, despite their progress and their accomplishments, something was still off.  Adrian was going through the motions, but he lacked the same vigor he once had.  Dom would occasionally catch him staring off into space forlornly or frowning as he swiped at his UI.  His fingers plucking at phantom strings… only to stop and wince as he realized his hands were empty.

Because one thing hadn’t changed…

Adrian still hadn’t found a replacement for his baby.

***

Dom and Adrian walked through Aislen, sunlight beating down on the cobblestones and a stiff breeze whipping through the streets, carrying the sound of laughter and chatter.  Residents and travelers alike were out in force, evidence that new life had been breathed back into the city.

However, there was one dark spot to an otherwise cheery day.

“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” Adrian muttered, swiping at the air before him.  “Not a single gods damned merchant in this city makes instruments?  Not one?  Seriously though, what kind of backwater shithole is this place?  Does no one here appreciate the arts?”

Dom just shook his head.  “I dunno,” he replied for at least the dozenth time, sharing a weary look with the chick trotting along beside him.

Although, he did know.  The residents of Aislen had barely been surviving before the travelers had come to this world.  Food, water, and shelter took precedence.  And with a culture starved for even basic resources like wood – an instrument was a luxury they couldn’t afford.  They were more worried about survival.  Dom could certainly relate to that.  And even now that the pair had been hauling fresh materials back into town, most people weren’t asking for guitars or lutes.  They wanted a sword.  Or a shield.  Or some sort of fireball-slinging wand.

Adrian had scoured every shop in town but had come up empty.  There was a reason his former “baby” had been in such a sorry state.  It might have been the only guitar in the entire city, a relic from some fanciful time when Aislen had actually been a functioning city.  And over the last few days, the bard’s mood had only continued to sour.  They might have been flush with cash and celebrated around town – but that didn’t mean shit if Adrian didn’t have an instrument.

Adrian sighed again, swiping aside his screens. “Where are we even going?” he muttered.  “Shouldn’t we be farming or training or something?”

“We’re just making a quick stop at Refr’s before we head out again,” Dom grunted back, nodding at the passing group of travelers that waved at them enthusiastically.

“That grumpy old badger?  Why?  Does he owe us money?”

The chick chirped at Adrian, his tone almost soothing.  Although that only earned a glare from the bard – the two still hadn’t quite made amends.  “I wasn’t talking to you, Chicken Tender.  I still haven’t forgotten what you did, you baby murdering sociopath.”

The chick just glanced up at Dom questioningly.  He stooped and pat the bird on the head.  “It’s okay.  He’s just turning into a grumpy old man.”

“Old man?” Adrian barked, his voice raising an octave.  “Who are you calling old?  Have you seen this skin?  Flawless.  Not a single damn wrinkle.  I moisture motherfucker…” the bard continued ranting – something about the hydrating effects of river mud and leech mucus.

Dom and the chick shared another look, both of them shaking their heads.  A few residents stepped past them, slowing and offering a piece of bread to the chick, which it happily gulped down in a single bite, thanking them with a soft cluck, its lungs having given up the high-pitch chirp of its infancy.  They bowed to Dom, and he mouthed “thank you” as Adrian followed along behind them, complaining loudly.

“—I mean, look at your skin!  You look like something out of Silence of the Lambs over there.  You’ve got more scars than skin at this point,” Adrian kept going.

Dom just rolled his eyes as he saw Refr’s shop come into view, a long line stretching out of the front of the store.  “Uh-huh.  Well, we’re here,” he offered to Adrian.  “Just give me a second.”

The bard barely registered his comment.  “—I’ll admit, maybe all this UV exposure out here isn’t great for my skin… but we don’t even know if you can get skin cancer in-game—”

Dom sighed and he and the chick headed inside.  Adrian clearly wasn’t listening anymore.  As they stepped past the other travelers waiting in line, their eyes followed Dom, taking in his massive frame and simple tunic.  A low buzz swept through the crowd as they recognized him.

“—it’s Dom!”

“Holy shit, he’s even bigger in person…”

“I hear he’s immortal—"

For his part, Dom just ignored it, waving or nodding awkwardly.

Normally, Adrian was the “face” of their operation – which he preferred.

He focused his attention on the shop.  It had transformed over the last week in-game.  The clutter had been cleaned out.  The floor was swept smooth, the wooden planks along the front of the store polished to a brilliant shine.  And now that all the scrap metal was gone, Dom could see that racks lined the walls, filled with freshly forged and oiled weapons and armor – more than a few glowing with a dull light that spoke of magic.  A front counter must have also been buried under all of that former clutter and crap because a clerk dressed in clean attire now stood behind it, helping each customer with a broad smile.

As he caught sight of Dom, the clerk sucked in a breath.  “Dom is here!” he shouted into the backroom, a curtain now blocking off the view of the workshop.

Within seconds, another employee came rushing forward – a young woman covered in grease and soot.  “Dom!  It’s a pleasure,” the woman greeted him, offering a hand.

“Hello again, Seryn,” Dom greeted her.  “Is Refr in?  I had a package to pick up.”

“Of course, of course,” she replied, waving him through the curtain.  “Just follow me.”

Dom stepped through and found himself in a bustling forge.  It seemed Refr had more than a few extra hands now – other residents and travelers filling his forge, the constant ting, ting, ting of a hammer striking metal ringing out through the room.  A glimmer of amber energy along the walls indicated that at least one of the employees was suppressing the noise.  That explained why Dom hadn’t heard anything from the front room.

“Reynolds, don’t pitch that into the water!  It’s not ready.  George, get your ass moving.  Those bellows aren’t going to pump themselves!” Refr shouted across the din.

“Ahh, Dom!” the blacksmith bellowed as he noticed him step inside the forge, a wide smile stretching across his face.  “Good to see you, sir!”  He took Dom’s hand in greeting, clasping it warmly.

“You too.  Seems things are going well here,” Dom commented, eyeing the forge.

“Indeed.  Indeed.  Business is booming, as you can see.  We’re barely keeping up with demand nowadays,” Refer answered.

Dom side-eyed him with a frown.  “Huh.  Have you had a chance to tackle that little project of mine?” he asked, worried that all of the extra work might have distracted the blacksmith.

Refr threw his arms wide.  “Of course!  Especially for my most important client.”  He snapped his fingers at Seryn.  “Get the man’s package.  It’s in my private shop.”  The woman nodded quickly and scurried outside.

Dom raised an eyebrow at that.  Refr just shrugged.  “Hey, the spoils of a successful business.  And, speaking of which, now that I have a few extra hands… and coin, I was able to go a bit further than we discussed.”

“Well, now I can’t wait to see it,” Dom replied, his curiosity piqued.

Refr clapped him on the back, guiding him out of the large open barn door and into his outdoor workspace, the pair stepping through the glimmering amber barrier and the sounds of the forge fading away swiftly.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Refr replied.  Seryn soon came back into view with a large package wrapped in thick, oiled leather.  She moved to unwrap it, but Dom stopped her by raising a hand.

“That’s okay,” he said.  “It’s a gift.  I’d like it to be a surprise.”

Dom spared a glance at Refr.  “But you’ve tested it, right?  It works?”

The blacksmith cocked his head.  “Not sure I have the hands for it,” he admitted, wiggling his thick, calloused fingers.  “But I built it to your specifications, and it’s definitely loud—”

He cut off as the pair heard someone complaining nearby, his voice carrying around the shop.  “Calling me old?!  I’m like 26!  Hey, lady, how old do I look to you?  Like if you just had to guess?” Adrian shouted from the front of the store.

“Loud enough to drown out that?” Dom asked with a small smile.

Refr just chuckled, his good eye twinkling.  “Eh, maybe not…”

Dom’s smile faded, and he clapped the blacksmith on the shoulder.  “Well, I appreciate the hard work.  Thank you,” he said, raising the package.

“Least I could do,” Refr replied.  “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Will do,” Dom said with a nod, and the pair parted ways.

As Dom circled back to the front of the store with the chick in tow, Adrian caught sight of him, a frown furrowing his brow.  “Where have you been?” he demanded.

Dom just let out a small sigh.  “Talking to Refr.  I mentioned that.”

“Huh,” Adrian grunted as the pair started heading toward the gate.

The bard glanced at the package in Dom’s hands.  “What’s that?  Another torturous training device?  Some sort of weights or something?”

“Not exactly,” Dom replied.  “It’s actually a gift.  For you.”

“Maybe a—” Adrian cut himself short.  “Wait, a gift for me?”

“That’s what I just said,” Dom said with another sigh, offering the package.

“Uh, well, thanks.  I wonder what it is…” the bard murmured as he started trying to untie the twine that was keeping the leather wrap in place.

Dom just shook his head, and they kept walking, Adrian providing a running commentary as he tried to untangle the package.

“Who did this?  Did they tie it with magic?” he muttered as he tried to juggle untying the knots in the twine, hold onto the bulky package, and walk at the same time.

Another few minutes later.  “Damn it…  This thing is like the Fort Knox of presents.”

The bard glared at Dom.  “Is this the training?  Am I going to get a knot untying skill?”

Dom couldn’t help himself, snorting out a laugh.

In his defense, that one was kind of funny – as was the suspicious look in Adrian’s eyes.

The gate had come into view before Adrian managed to unwrap his present, Dom waving as he noticed two familiar faces standing guard in their usual spot – Feng and Chin returning his greeting with enthusiastic smiles.

“Ho, there, Dom!” Chin called out.

“How are you two doing?” he greeted while Adrian muttered behind him.

“Fine, fine.  You going out again?” Feng asked, stepping toward the wall and pulling his dagger from his waist.  He scratched another mark on the stone, the lines now stretching dozens of feet down the stone and more than seven feet into the air.  A few travelers were posing for a selfie in front of the wall, freezing and mouths dropping open as they caught sight of Dom.

“Something like that,” Dom answered, ignoring them.  Meanwhile, Adrian had placed the package on a nearby barrel, cursing under his breath as he continued his battle with the twine.

“And how’re you doing, cutie?” Chin asked, stooping toward the chick.  It clucked happily, dancing back and forth between each foot.  “Oh, are you expecting something?” the guard asked with a grin.

The chick clucked loudly – more insistent.

“Alright then,” he said, pulling an apple from behind his back.  “These are one of Edda’s prize apples.  She has the only tree in town.”

The chick’s eyes went round.  And then its beak snapped forward, devouring the apple in a single bite, its eyes closing in bliss.  Chin just smiled as he watched.  The guard had started giving the chick rare treats after he’d discovered its fondness for food, which had made the pair instant friends.  The chick was a bit of a food slut in Dom’s opinion.  He was starting to think the creature would stop in the middle of a fight if the enemy offered a good enough meal.

A moment later, the chick’s eyes popped open, and it clucked a thank you.

“You’re very welcome,” Chin answered with a small bow.

“So, what’s the plan for today then?” Feng offered as he returned from the wall.

Dom just jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Adrian.  “I was thinking of doing a test run.”

The two guards looked curious.  “Oh, did Refr finish—?”  Feng never got to finish.

A piercing scream erupted from behind Dom, carrying across the courtyard surrounding the gate, the sound so loud and high-pitched it almost caused the air to vibrate.  All eyes turned to the source of that shout, hands clamped over their ears or moving to their weapons—

— only to find that the noise had come from Adrian.

The bard had sunk to his knees, cradling the finally unwrapped package in his hands.

It was a case with a familiar shape, the latch unclasped, and the lid popped open.

Adrian lifted the contents free, his fingers trembling.  A guitar was soon revealed.  In contrast to his former “baby” it was formed of a mixture of smooth, polished wood and metal, designed to be sturdy.  The body had been reinforced with steel – allowing it to be used like a club.  But that wasn’t the only change.  Glowing yellow crystals had been embedded where the output jack might have been, giving off a bright amber light.  This world didn’t have amps, after all.  And in place of traditional sinew, the strings were now thick ropes of metal.

Adrian’s eyes lifted to Dom’s, tears streaming down his cheeks.  “What… what is this?”

“I had Refr make it,” Dom offered.  “Actually, I think it took a few crafters collaborating.  They’ve been working on it for a while now.  Pretty much since we started farming.  I gave them a design from our world – hope that was okay.”

The bard just looked back and forth between the guitar and Dom in stunned silence.

“I told you I was going to replace your baby,” he offered tentatively.

Adrian was still just staring, tears raining down onto the dirt.

“Is he, uh, okay?” Chin whispered.

Dom just shook his head.  He wasn’t sure.

The nearby travelers and residents were also staring at the bard as he sat cradling his new guitar, having a very private moment in a very public space.

“Uh, maybe you want to get up?” Dom suggested.

“This must have cost a fortune,” Adrian mumbled, ignoring him as he stroked the yellow crystals – some of the higher quality gems they’d plucked from the caves, specially infused by a local air mage.  They would recharge ambiently from the air alone.  Or at least that’s what the lady had told Dom.  They normally cost a small fortune on the auction house.

Dom shrugged.  “Doesn’t matter.  Not like I need the money.”  He didn’t really get much benefit from equipment.  Weapons just broke or got lost.  And there was no sense wearing armor if he was trying to train his skills.  Rings and amulets tended to shatter over time or impede his range of movement.  So, Dom normally just wore the starting novice clothing – which reset and repaired itself every time he died.

Adrian finally rose on wobbly feet.  Then his finger plucked at a small switch at the bottom of the guitar.  The air crystals lit up brightly, glowing with an almost blinding blaze.  Then the bard gingerly placed his fingers on the frets and ran the fingers of his other hand across the strings.

A blast of sound erupted from the guitar.  The noise filled the space around the gate, echoing out across Aislen proper.  If the bard hadn’t already been making a scene, that noise was more than enough to draw every eye in the area.

Adrian’s expression had suddenly changed, a gleeful smile stretching across his face and his eyes alight with excitement.  “Oh, hell yes!” He shouted.

Then the bard started playing.

The guitar let out a high pitch squeal that seemed to vibrate the air itself, a rising metallic ballad.  The sound was triumphant.  A march to battle.  A call to war.  A celebration of life itself.  Adrian seemed to be entirely caught up in the song, almost palpable waves of force washing out from the instrument and crashing across the courtyard in front of the gate.

A crowd was gathering now – watching with dumbstruck expressions as Adrian rocked out with his new makeshift electric guitar.  But perhaps the strangest thing of all was the chick’s reaction.  For a long moment, the creature just stared at Adrian in rapt fascination, its head cocked.  Then it craned its neck toward the sky, letting out a crooning cry that mixed with the electric shriek, his tiny feet stomping in time with the beat, each step letting out a loud thump.

Adrian looked down at the chick with a surprised expression that soon morphed into a smile, the pair celebrating – letting all of Aislen feel their joy.

Dom turned to see Feng and Chin staring open-mouthed, their hands pressed firmly to their ears to protect their fragile eardrums.

“I think he likes it!” Dom mouthed at them.

Chapter 22 - Chaotic

Dom and Adrian’s initial jog through the forest was relatively peaceful.

They weren’t in a rush, Adrian plucking at his new guitar as they ran – the chick keeping pace, clucking and chirping along with his songs, jumping every few feet and fluttering its wings happily.  The forest around them hummed with life, occasional light trickling down through the thick canopy.  It was almost relaxing.

For his part, Dom decided to take advantage of the lull.  Calm often didn’t last long in the jungle.  He pulled on the ropes that kept his barrel in place, checking that it was secure.  Then he tapped at his UI.  He’d been putting off reviewing his notices over the last few days in-game.  It was a pain in the ass to check them every time they popped up, and so he’d begun hoarding them and only reviewing his skill and level notifications every so often.

X32 Level Up!

You have (160) undistributed stat points.

Stat Increases:

+34 Strength

+22 Dexterity

+12 Endurance

+32 Vitality

New Active Skill:  Swimming

You’re like a fish in the water.  You know, except without the fins, gills, or scales.  So… really nothing like a fish.  But you can swim pretty fast, I guess?

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  +10% Swim Speed.

Effect 2:  -11% Stamina Drain.

New Active Skill:  Climbing

After spending a ton of time scaling all manner of trees, you can swing up into the branches with ease – like a wannabe Tarzan!  We don’t recommend swinging on vines, however.  The physics really doesn’t hold up there.

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2.

Effect 1:  +10% Climb Speed.

Effect 2:  -11% Stamina Drain.

New Active Skill:  Intimidation

After acting as the group’s tank for some time and due to your extensive physical training, your physique has become rather impressive.  You’d be the envy of any “gym bro” – likely threatening their own fragile egos!

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  +9.5% Increased Threat.

New Passive Skill:  Sonic Resistance

Have you been going to a lot of rock concerts lately?  Or just putting up with a very loud and sometimes bitchy bard?  Well, then we have the thing for you!  Your body has adapted to the constant stream of complaints, offering natural earplugs.  Lucky you…

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  +20% Resistance to Sound-Based Attacks.

Effect 2:  -20% Sonic Stun Duration.

New Active Skill:  Night Vision

You know the expression “the lights are on, but no one is home?”  That pretty much describes you over the last few days.  We decided to flip that switch back on…

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  19% increased vision in darkness or near darkness.

X4 Skill Rank Up:  Toughness

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  -8% damage and pain.

Effect 2:  Reduced fatigue duration by 14%.

X1 Skill Rank Up:  Iron Skin

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 6

Effect 1:  +770 Armor.

Effect 2:  +10% Increased Total Armor.

X2 Skill Rank Up:  Hardy

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2

Effect 1:  +10.50% Vitality.

Effect 2:  +11% Health Regeneration

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Strength Training

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 9

Effect:  +9.0% Strength.

X3 Skill Rank Up:  Endurance Training

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  +9.50% Endurance.

X5 Skill Rank Up:  Unarmed Fighting

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  +10% damage and speed.

Effect 2:  +5% Crit Chance.

X2 Skill Rank Up:  Sprint

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 9

Effect 1:  14% increased movement speed.

Effect 2:  -18% stamina drain.

Cost:  5 Stamina / Second

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Poison Resist

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2

Effect 1:  -10.50% Poison Damage.

Effect 2:  -21% Poison Duration.

X1 Skill Rank Up:  Bleeding Resist

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  -10% Bleed Damage.

Effect 2:  -20% Bleed Duration.

X1 Skill Rank Up:  Challenging Shout

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 6

Effect 1:  1.5 Second Stun and Increased Aggro.  17.5 Yard Radius.

Effect 2:  15% Increased Threat

Stamina Cost:  300

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Bull Rush

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 7

Effect 1:  36% Increased Impact Force

Effect 2:  16% Increased Impact Area

Stamina Cost:  300

Character Status

Name:

Dom

Gender:

Male

Level:

60

Class:

Race:

Human

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Fame:

5,000

Infamy:

0

Health:

5,705

H/Sec:

29.25

Mana:

0

M/Sec:

0.00

Stamina

2,778

S/Sec:

24.33

Str

189

Dex

170

Vit

271

End

166

Int

10

Will

10

Lck

10

Affinities

Dark:

7%

Light:

8%

Fire:

6%

Water:

3%

Air:

22%

Earth:

3%

Dom had distributed 40 points into Vitality and split the remainder between Strength, Dexterity, and Endurance.  His goal was to keep those in relative parity since they were all important for his current build.  He needed to be able to keep fighting, be fast enough to protect Adrian, and be strong enough that his punches packed, well… a punch?

Regardless, his stats and skills were only continuing to grow.

Not that Dom had long to appreciate his progress—

A sharp squeal broke suddenly through his concentration, his head whipping toward Adrian.  The bard had apparently decided to turn on the guitar’s amp, the yellow gems glowing brightly.  The chick ran beside him, letting out a crooning call that mixed with the sound of the guitar, the combination of noise causing birds to flutter up through the nearby branches.  As the wave of sound struck a cloud of insects, they scattered, more than a few slamming into a nearby tree trunk in their haste to escape.

“Ha, that’s awesome!” Adrian declared as the hum of his guitar faded.  He slowed, stooping and offering a hand to the chick, who hopped up and tapped his palm with its wing.

“You two sure seem to be getting along now,” Dom observed dryly, the group barely slowing their headlong jog.  They’d made it down into the valleys now, and it was too dangerous to stop for any length of time, especially with the noise that Adrian and the chick were making.

The bard just shrugged.  “What can I say?  He’s a pretty good wingman…”

Adrian hesitated, his eyes going round as he stared down at the chick.  “Shit.  That’s a great name, especially since Dom here hasn’t bothered to name you yet.  He’s really a terrible chicken daddy, if you ask me,” he added, glaring at Dom.

“Please never call me that again.  Also, I was getting around to it,” Dom muttered.  To be honest, he was pretty bad with names.  He’d had at least three “hamsters” and a pet “lizard” that had died as a kid.  They never lived long enough to justify giving them real names.  He hadn’t ever been a fortunate person.

His eyes shot back to Adrian.  “Besides, you had more than a few names for the chick.  Happy meal.  Chicken tender.  Chicken nugget—"

“Sure, but that was when we were arch enemies,” Adrian replied, waving his hand dismissively.  “Now we’ve started a band, which makes us brothers in arms!  And every band member needs an awesome name…”  He trailed off as he glanced down at the chick.  “So, what do you think?  Should we call you Wingman?”

The bird seemed to contemplate the name for a moment before it stopped, lifting its head to the sky, and letting out a squawk far larger than seemed impossible for its tiny frame – the force of its cry echoing out across the jungle.  At the same time, a name suddenly flashed into existence above the chick’s head, glowing blue script written by an invisible hand.  Soon, “Wingman” floated above the little bird’s body.

“I guess that’s a yes,” Adrian said with a grin, shooting a look at Dom.

Dom couldn’t help the small smile that drifted across his face as he watched the chick, who was dancing back and forth on its feet in excitement, letting out smaller chirps and squawks.  It was also nice to see Adrian and Wingman getting along, especially after roughly a week of putting up with their fighting and the bard’s bitching.

But, as with all good things, their brief break soon came to an abrupt end.

Answering growls and howls came from the depths of the dense, green hell that lingered around them.  A flutter of wings from above indicated that some of the native creatures were on the move – possibly something large moving through the lower branches.  Dom saw his luck multiplier begin to skyrocket, signaling that their risk had just increased.  The creatures must have been alerted to Wingman’s cry, much as they had been drawn to its mother.

Dom and Adrian shared a look.

“Shit,” the bard muttered.  “River?”

Dom nodded.  They had a system at this point.  Sometimes it was better to hide and wait for the horde to pass.  Dom wanted to test Arian’s new guitar, and they could take out more than a few creatures solo, but there was no sense getting into a brawl of this size.  Once the creatures lost their scent, they could restart their farming route and find more manageable prey.

So, the trio changed direction and sped up, no longer beating a lazy pace.

Now they were running for real, trees, limbs, and dead branches speeding past as Dom and Adrian pushed themselves up closer to their limit – making a beeline for the nearest river.  And yet Wingman still kept pace, the bird’s tiny legs pumping and the chick using his wings to help propel himself forward, occasionally leaping into the air and coasting forward in a blur of movement and flutter of feathers.  Dom still wasn’t sure how he managed the feat.

Less than a minute later, they arrived at the river.  Dom spared a glance behind him, seeing the trees shake and feeling the ground tremble beneath his feet.  That wasn’t a good sign.

“We need to move,” he grunted, motioning at the water, and untying the barrel from his back, holding the ropes loosely in one hand.  “You know the drill—”

“Of course,” Adrian cut him off, his guitar back in its waterproof case and slung tightly over his shoulder.  Dom was glad he’d had the foresight to ask for an oiled leather case.

With that, the trio all took a deep breath and plunged into the swift-moving waters.  They pressed down into the depths of the river, holding their breaths and bubbles leaking from mouths and noses.  The barrel floated on the surface, pulled along as Dom held tight to the ropes.  Even underwater, he could hear a dull, muted booming, the sound of the oncoming creatures.  The group kicked forward, heading north and swimming hard and fast.

Within only moments the sound began to dim, only to be replaced by the flash of brightly colored scales.  A swarm of winged fish was bearing down on them.  Standing atop the mountains, the schools were majestic, creating twisting columns of color.  Up close?  They looked like they had been designed by some mad scientist, their mouths full of needle-like teeth that were at least an inch long. Welcome to life in the jungle – beauty always obscuring sheer terror.

However, Adrian was ready.  He let out a single piercing note, the water rippling around him.  Dom pressed his hands to his ears to protect his poor eardrums.  Even with his Sonic Resistance, Adrian had a hell of a set of lungs on him – the bard having trained Breathing Techniques much more than Dom.  That wave of force struck the school of fish like a battering ram, sending them scattering in every direction only for the trio to speed through the scattered school.

Moments later, they emerged, sucking in air, and scrambling up onto the nearby bank.  Water poured off their bodies, and Wingman shook himself hard, sending droplets flying in every direction.  Dom hauled his barrel out of the water, checking the seal on the lid.  Still good.  In the distance, he could just barely make out the sound of growls and calls as the horde struck the river and promptly lost their scent.

Adrian shot him a meaningful look.

“Luck multiplier dropped,” Dom reported.  That threat to them had subsided, even if they now ran the risk of encountering a larger problem.

The bard let out a sigh.  “Maybe we need to be quieter,” Adrian commented to the chick.  Its head drooped, and Adrian ruffled his wet feathers.  “Just for now, anyway.  Don’t want to mess up our farming route, do we?  We can practice later.”

“Speaking of which, let’s get moving again,” Dom said, hauling himself back to his feet.

Adrian sighed but pushed himself upright, and the group set off again.

Although, only seconds later, another prompt soon flashed in front of Dom.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (-8.9).

We’re in some ‘Final Destination’ territory here…

His eyes kept shifting to his luck multiplier in the corner of his UI, a note of worry coiling in his gut.  It wasn’t unusual for the multiplier to drop while they traveled – especially now that the group had grown stronger.  But it seemed worse than usual on this outing.  It had plummeted after they emerged from the river, and it was still dropping.  Maybe it was Adrian’s new guitar?  Or possibly they had just lured all of the local creatures to one area and then dropped aggro?  So maybe there wasn’t anything around to pose a danger to them?

He couldn’t be sure… only that—

They jogged down a thin trail, taking a hard turn and the jungle opening into a small clearing.  Normally, this was a rest area for them – sometimes a place to train during downtimes in their farming route.  And usually it was empty.

But not today.

The trio froze.

As did the group of green-skinned men and women that filled the glade.  Dom didn’t have a name for them, but they sure looked a hell of a lot like goblins – small frame, wiry muscle, and bright amber eyes.  There must have been at least fifty of them – possibly more.  A dozen were hovering over top the corpse of one of the elephant-like creatures that occasionally roamed the valleys.  It was pitched on its side, blood staining the ground as the goblins carved at its flesh with crude knives.  Many more lingered around them, a few setting up what looked like a campfire and a spit – others some sort of makeshift wooden sled.

“Oh, shit,” Adrian muttered.  “So, uh, what’s our move here?”

Dom shook his head slightly.  These creatures definitely looked humanoid and were using tools – possibly a hunting party.  And they hadn’t made an aggressive move… at least, not yet.  Maybe they could talk their way out of this?  Dom wasn’t looking forward to killing these things.  Even with their green skin, they looked far too human.  There was something different about fighting the native beasts.

All of that flashed through his mind in an instant.

Dom raised his hands in the universal gesture of “please, please don’t kill me.”

“Let’s keep it peaceful unless they make the first move,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, you’re right.  Think positive,” the bard quipped but followed his lead.

The goblins looked on with amber eyes, the air in the glade tense.  One that might have been the leader stepped forward gingerly, raising a hand to mimic Dom—

Almost in slow motion, Dom saw Wingman hopping at his feet, the bird unable to see what was going on with its short stature.  The chick suddenly crouched down and then launched up into the air, snagging onto a low branch to get a better view, hanging upside down from one clawed foot.  Dom saw the chick’s attention immediately center on that massive corpse – the blood and entrails spilling out onto the forest floor.  That familiar, ravenous gleam in his eye—

“Don’t—” Dom began, grabbing the bird.

But it was too late.

Even tucked in Dom’s arms, Wingman raised his head to the sky, letting out another massive squawk that lifted the dirt and dust from the ground and echoed out across the jungle.  All of those amber eyes turned to that tiny, foot-tall bird with a streak of red down its forehead.  That tiny chick that grabbed apples out of Feng’s hand and liked to have his head stroked…

And Dom saw absolute, sheer-fucking terror reflected in their gazes.  Almost as one, the goblins reacted, their lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth.  Their hands moved to backs and waists – to their weapons, Dom realized.  Only to pull free what looked like crude muskets and pistols, more than fifty barrels suddenly leveled at the trio’s location.

“Oh look… they have guns,” Adrian managed weakly.

At the same time, Dom felt the ground tremble beneath his feet – the other native creatures must have heard that cry again.  Yet he wasn’t given long to ponder on that as a blue notification flashed down in front of him – almost mocking.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+7.1).

Well, this is all rather… unfortunate.  Good luck!

Acting almost entirely on instinct, Dom did the only thing he could in this situation.  He clutched tightly to Wingman with one arm, grabbed Adrian with his free hand, and yanked them down.  Hard.  The group slammed into the ground, pressed flat against dirt and twigs.

And just in time.  A barrage erupted from the goblins, their guns firing in a series of concussive blasts – almost like miniature cannons going off, clouds of black powder drifting through the air, accompanied by a musty, sulfuric smell.  Metal shrapnel tore through the vegetation above the trio’s heads, ripping apart the plants into a cloud of green mulch and tearing apart the bark of the nearby trees.  Yet those bullets kept going—

—straight into the oncoming horde of creatures now barreling through the forest, the ground trembling and bucking hard.  Howls and cries of pain went up behind the beasts and were followed shortly by cries of alarm from the goblins – their shouts drowned out by the stomp of the native animals and repeated, now-staggered blasts of their muskets.  It seemed they had just noticed the beasts and were firing frantically.

And the creatures had definitely noticed them.

Dom looked at Adrian.  “We need to move!” he shouted.

The bard just nodded, and the pair crawled off to the side, moving as quickly as they could and staying low to the ground to avoid the barrage of metal shrapnel racing over their heads as the goblins launched blast after blast into the oncoming line of animals.  Hoofs and paws beat past them, more than one landing on Dom’s back or legs.  But he just winced and kept moving.  That was still better than what waited for them if they stood up.

The trio scrambled off to the side, quickly moving out of the way of the war being waged overhead.  The jungle’s usual ambiance was overshadowed by blasts from the goblins’ muskets, growls from the animals, and cries of pain.  They found a hollowed-out hole at the base of a nearby tree and crawled inside, pressing themselves against the wood.

Dom watched his luck multiplier and strained with his ears.

Minutes slowly ticked past.  They didn’t move until the multiplier dropped below 2, and the sounds of battle had faded, only the occasional whimper of pain filling the air.  Adrian looked to Dom again, his eyes round and his gaze questioning.

“We’re good to move,” Dom confirmed.

The bard nodded, pulling his guitar free and the group exiting their hidey-hole.

They stepped out into a scene of carnage.

The goblins were very much dead.  Their little green bodies had been ripped open, leaving a sickly, yellow blood upon the ground.  And around them lay the corpses of dozens of creatures.  Panthers.  Another elephant.  Birds and bugs of all shapes and sizes.  The effects of their guns were also on display, their barrage having ripped apart much of the nearby vegetation, effectively widening the valley in the direction the trio had initially been standing.

Wingman let out an excited chirp – the bird seemingly unperturbed by how it’d nearly killed them all.  Or how its cry had effectively signed the goblins’ death sentence.  He launched forward toward the elephant’s corpse, burrowing into its chest with abandon and clucking happily to itself.  Likely, the chick was pleased that the goblins had already done much of its work.

Dom and Adrian just looked at each other.  Then back at the glade.

“Well, damn,” the bard muttered, walking among the corpses, and inspecting the destruction more closely.  “That was crazy.  But at least we’re alive!”

Dom frowned as he heard a sputtering gasp from nearby.  He picked through the carnage until he found a feeble, twitching green hand rising from a pile of corpses.  Dom stooped, shifting the bodies out of the way to reveal the goblin leader.  In an instant, Dom knew his injuries were fatal.  His ribs were crushed, and a horned antler was stabbed through his stomach, vital-looking organs now resting against the ground.  The yellowed eyes that looked up at Dom were filled with pain.

The goblin leader managed to raise his hand, the finger twitching and the move costing him.  He sucked in a deep, gurgling breath, blood on his lips.  Then he… spoke.

“Kill… me,” he ground out, the sound harsh but the words unmistakable.

Dom hesitated – staring.  Fuck, he thought.  They can talk.

And then, We just killed these… people?

Dom squeezed his eyes shut against the sight, the image of a claustrophobic white room returning with a vengeance.  Damn it.  Then he breathed in deeply, willing his heart to calm its pounding, thunderous rhythm.

When Dom opened his eyes again, they met the goblin leader’s pleading expression.  And finally, he nodded.  Then, acting quickly before he could chicken out, he pulled back his arm and launched his fist forward.  His knuckle impacted bone – pausing there for only a fraction of a second before the goblin’s skull fractured, then crumpled.  Moments later, the goblin lay unmoving, his chest still and forehead caved in.

And Dom pulled back his fist, a queasy feeling in his stomach as he saw the yellowed blood and gore staining his knuckles.  He could only stare bleakly at the bloodied coin as he unfurled his fist – a product of Roll the Dice, no doubt.

He didn’t feel any rush of adrenaline.  No surge of chemicals to blunt the horror of what he’d just had to do.  Killing that creature had definitely felt… different.

“Shit,” Dom muttered.

Yet before he could ponder long on what had just happened, another notification flashed down in front of Dom, obscuring the sight of the goblin’s corpse.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (-6.1).

You need a neck brace for that whiplash, bro?

Dom’s eyebrows shot up, his moral unease suddenly taking a backseat to a new and more immediate problem.  The multiplier just kept dropping… fast.

“Uh, Adrian, I think—” Dom began.

The leaves behind them rustled, and suddenly another large group emerged from the jungle.  Although, this was no unseemly, chaotic horde of creatures or band of goblins.  They had been divided into smaller groups and walked in formation, their bodies wrapped in thick metal mail and polished weapons swinging at their waists and backs.  More robed men and women paced behind them, elemental energy coiling around staves and wands.

And across each breastplate and cloak?  The image of a white claw.  One of <The Jackals’> raiding parties.

They’d likely been alerted by all the noise.

Those travelers stomped into the glade, eyeing the carnage.  The corpses of the goblins and dozens of dead creatures lay bleeding out along the ground.  Meanwhile, a chicken was gorging on half an elephant.  And then their gaze shifted to the two men that stood in the center of that destruction – their clothing ripped and torn from their hasty escape.  But their skin was unbroken, their health regeneration having long ago taken care of any small scrapes and cuts.

They stared.  Their mouths dropped open.  A silence hovered across the travelers as they tried to digest what they were seeing – the impossible chaos of the scene before them.  In that instant, Dom could see there was only one deduction available to them.  A single question flitting through their minds: how the hell had these two players done all of this?

And into that silence, Adrian piped up, his expression entirely deadpan.

“Sup,” the bard greeted them with a jerk of his chin.

Chapter 23 - Recruited

A man at the front of the <The Jackals’> raid group stepped forward, a twin pair of curved swords strapped to his back and heavy scale armor covering his chest and arms.  He coughed into a mailed fist, covering for the look of shock on his face as he surveyed the carnage.  Then he motioned at his raid members.  The group spread out across the field, creating a perimeter facing the forest with their mages located within the center of a wall of steel.

A few of their team picked through the carnage, gathering together what materials might be salvageable.  Dom didn’t mind.  There wasn’t much.  Even putting aside the damage done by the native beasts, the goblins’ gear was pretty shit – the metal rusted and wood worn.  Dom had noticed that more than a few of their guns had simply exploded when fired.

It seemed even the native humanoids were having a rough time of it in the jungle.

“Well, this is… impressive,” the raid leader admitted finally.  He glanced to Dom and Adrian.  “You two did all of this?” he asked, waving at the bloodstained glade.

Dom and Adrian shared a quick look, and Dom shrugged slightly.

“Damn straight,” Adrian said, turning back with a cocky grin.

The man shook his head.  “Well, then I should shake your hand.  I’m Sean, by the way.  I’m one of the officers and raid leaders of <The Jackals>,” he said as he accepted Adrian’s grip.

“Adrian,” the bard replied.  “Just Adrian.”

Sean stared at him with a frown.  “I’ll be damned if you don’t look familiar,” he murmured.  Then he snapped his fingers.  “Wait, you underwent the tutorial training, right?  Only person I’ve met who actually wanted to be a bard.”  He began with a grin, but his humor faded as his eyes skimmed to the guitar case slung across the bard’s back, raising an eyebrow.  “And, uh, it seems you did.”

“Indeed,” Adrian replied sourly, returning a sickly-sweet smile.  “Apparently, it’s not nearly as worthless as I was told,” he added.

“I can see that,” Sean grunted, eyeing the bodies around them.

The raid leader then turned to Dom and offered a hand, a curious gleam in his eye.  “And you must be Dom.  I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dom just watched the raid leader, observing Sean’s expression.  He was being nice – polite even.  Yet something felt off about his behavior.  Or maybe it was the timing.  In his experience, most members of <The Jackals> were assholes – so possibly it was just whiplash from his expectations.

Although, that didn’t explain why this huge raid group happened to be out here.  There must be nearly a hundred players in their party.  Dom and Adrian ran this route with some regularity, and this was the first time they’d seen guild forces deviate from their regular part of the jungle.  And while the jump in his luck multiplier might have explained the goblins and the horde of creatures – it was sitting at zero right now.  What the hell did that tell him?

Not much.

He heaved a mental sigh – no magic answer coming to him.  He supposed this could just be a coincidence.  But color him fucking skeptical.  So, for now, he’d be wary.

Dom accepted Sean’s hand reluctantly.  “Really?  Never heard of you,” he replied finally.

He noticed Sean’s eye twitch slightly at his response, his fingers squeezing tighter – to the point that his grip might have been painful for most people, possibly even shaving off a few health points. However, Dom wasn’t most people.  He didn’t even flinch.

“I try to keep my head down,” Sean replied evenly.  “Pretty dangerous to stick your neck out, especially out here and without a crew to back you up.”

“I hear you there,” Dom answered, deciding to exert his own strength.  He gradually increased the pressure on Sean’s hand until the man’s knuckles had turned white and started creaking.  To his credit, the raid leader managed not to wince in front of his troops.

Sean suddenly released Dom’s grip, pulling his hand down to his side – clenching and unclenching his fist to regain feeling.  That gleam in his eye had changed now.  It was more appraising.  Less arrogant.

Good.  Dom had met guys like this before.  It was important to “level set” with some people.

“But we’ve been doing pretty well on our own,” Dom continued, crossing his arms.  He turned toward Wingman, where the chicken was swiftly devouring the elephant.  “Speaking of which, we should probably be on our way.”

A hand landed on Dom’s shoulder.

“Hey, just a moment,” Sean said.

Dom simply looked down at that hand.  Sean removed it quickly.

“I just mean, what’s the rush?” The raid leader amended.  “We’re actually headed toward the goblins’ camp, and you two seem pretty competent.  It’s an instanced raid dungeon – pretty tough, which is why we brought a small army,” Sean explained, chuckling softly to himself.  “Would you guys be interested in teaming up?  There might be some XP and loot in it for you.”

Dom hesitated, his thoughts racing.

That might explain why they were out here.  Maybe.  Although, the fact that Sean hadn’t taken the road was telling.  <The Jackals> never cut across the jungle if they could help it.  But it was possible he was trying to train his people – or gather mats like Dom and Adrian had been doing.  More than a few soldiers were strapped down with bags.  Dom was also a bit curious, both to gather more firsthand information about Booker’s organization and to see this goblin camp.

If that goblin leader had been able to speak, then could the others?

Adrian looked at Dom, offering only a shrug.

Dom turned back to Sean.  “I don’t see the harm in tagging along, I suppose.”

“See?  That’s the right attitude!” Sean replied.  “It’s all about teamwork out in the green.”

He hesitated, tapping his lips.  “You want an invite to the raid?”

“We’re good, thanks,” Adrian said quickly.  “We can just maintain our own group.  Wouldn’t want to leech XP from you and your guildies.”

“That’s kind of you,” Sean began slowly.

Dom was confused at the bard’s response until he saw him shoot a meaningful look at Wingman – only the bird’s tail feather visible as he was torso deep in dead elephant right now.  What the hell does he…?

Then it clicked.

Wingman had just nearly gotten them killed because of Dom’s Chaotic Blessing.  Adrian didn’t trust these guys either.  If they stayed in their own group, Dom could keep checking his luck multiplier.  That might give him a heads up if <The Jackals> planned to betray them.

And besides, even if Sean wasn’t planning something, if they were added to the raid, that might sour the rest of the group’s luck, especially with their numbers and if they didn’t encounter much resistance.  As Sean turned to call out some orders to guildies, Dom typed out a short message to Adrian with one hand.

Dom: Quick thinking.  I don’t trust these guys.

Adrian: Me neither.  Let’s keep our guard up.

As Sean turned back to them, Dom swiped aside his chat window.

“So, where we heading?  Is the raid entrance far?” Adrian asked.

“Not too much further.  Couple miles,” Sean grunted, his brow furrowing as he noticed movement over by the elephant, a splash of yellow twitching in the air.  “What’s that—”

A squawk suddenly echoed across the glade, Wingman’s call that he’d finished a meal.

The sound was soon accompanied by the sound of scraping steel as Sean’s soldiers all turned toward the chicken, swords raised and elemental energy spinning along staves and wands.  It seemed they were rather on edge.  And Dom could have sworn a few of those spells had been aimed at him for a second there…

“Hey, it’s alright,” Dom shouted, putting up his hands and moving forward in front of Wingman.  He certainly didn’t want the bird to start yet another massacre, especially after they only narrowly avoided the last one – sort of.

“He’s a… um, pet.  Not a native creature,” Dom called out, his bulky form hovering atop the bird who watched the members of <The Jackals> in confusion.  Wingman looked back and forth between the other corpses and the raid in confusion – likely thinking they wanted his food.  Say what you want about the chicken, but he had clear priorities.  Food first, then everything else.

“What the hell is this?” Dom heard a soldier mutter.

“No idea,” another answered softly.  “Not a fucking clue at this point.”

“Why are we even out here?” another murmured.

They weren’t alone in their confusion.  The rest of the soldiers just stared at Dom like perhaps he’d lost his damned mind.  Although, that might have had something to do with the foot-tall chicken covered in blood behind him.  With a bath, he could actually be rather presentable.

“Is that a… chicken?” Sean asked, shaking his head.

“Nah,” Adrian answered with a shrug.  “That’s our Wingman.”

***

Sean had been right about one thing.  They weren’t that far from the goblin’s camp – which at least made it more plausible that Dom and Adrian had run into the guild’s raid group by accident.  The dungeon was located closer to <The Jackals’> ever-expanding highway, situated against a rounded mountain that formed a rough “U” shape.  The entrance was a narrow opening, probably only about twenty or thirty feet across.  And judging from the way the plants were smashed flat and footprints littered the dirt, it had seen some traffic lately – good evidence that they were close to the goblins’ camp.

Although, if that hadn’t been enough, the greenskins had erected crude signs, hanging them from the rocks and staking them into the dirt.  Images and words were painted across the wood in bright red paint – or possibly blood?  Most weren’t that inspired.  Your typical, “KeeP Owt!”  Or, “Die Hoomans!”  But some of the others—

“Wow, this is great!  Look at this one!” Adrian called out excitedly, ripping up one of the signs.  “It’s a little man getting stabbed by a bunch of goblins with spears.  And the detailing is… actually kind of amazing.”

“Okay?” Dom offered with a raised eyebrow.  “What’s so interesting about that?”

“Well, don’t you think it bears an uncanny resemblance to someone we know?” the bard suggested, shoving the sign at Dom.  Indeed, the stick figure was shown wearing two curved swords across his back.

“My favorite part is the artful placement of the spears.  They look like they’re about to shove them up this guy’s as—”

“Alright!  Gather round!” Sean’s voice boomed out, cutting off Adrian.  His words were carried along on amber winds as the air mage beside him channeled her energy.  Dom shook his head, handing the sign back to Adrian as he watched the glimmer of mana with interest.  He didn’t have much magic, and neither did Adrian – at least, if you didn’t count his songs – so this was a rare sight.

As Dom and Adrian stepped over to join the rest of the raid, the others eyed them warily.  They heard muttering, and there were more than a few glares directed their way – some of the soldiers edging away from them as they passed.  As best they could tell, half the raid thought they might be cheating.  And the other half?  Well, they couldn’t decide whether to be afraid or not.  Although, at least that bought them some caution.

“Friendly bunch,” Adrian muttered under his breath.

Dom just snorted.

“Oh, and a bunch of those other signs indicated that there isn’t any love lost between the goblins and these guys.  Plenty included their guild emblem in unflattering ways,” Adrian added quietly for Dom’s ears only.  He looked down at the sign in his hand wistfully.  “Although this one is still my favorite.”

“Huh.  Well, whatever these guys are up to, I say we stay toward the back and keep our abilities to ourselves,” Dom replied in a hushed voice.

Adrian just nodded, tension lingering in his shoulders despite his cavalier tone.

“Okay,” Sean announced, gathering everyone’s attention.  “Most of you have gone through this raid before, so this should be pretty routine.  But there are some here that haven’t tackled this dungeon yet – and today we also have some guests,” he added, waving at Dom and Adrian.

That was just another excuse for the other soldiers to glare and scowl in their direction.

“Really not loving this attention,” Adriane muttered.

“And here I always thought you wanted to be famous,” Dom shot back with a small smile.

“Big fucking difference between famous and infamous.  One’s much less stabby.”

“Anyway, typical rotation.  Air mages are going to move up onto the ridges,” Sean explained, swiping at the air to pull up his map – a 3D model soon projected beside him, outlining the dead-end valley before them.  Dom assumed the large red dot represented the goblin camp.  A few yellow markers appeared along the ridge, likely noting the position of the air mages.  “From there, the mages will drive out the goblins.”

Sean tapped at the map, drawing a yellow line from camp to the mouth of the valley.  “The goblins are going to exit here since this is the only exit from the valley.  The greenskins aren’t very bright, so they should be panicked, which will make them easy pickings.”

“Seems simple enough,” Adrian chirped as Dom remained silent.

This earned him a scowl from Sean this time.  “Yeah, except there are a few complications with this dungeon.”  Sean walked over to the mouth of the valley, and a blue veil suddenly shimmered into existence, the raid leader passing his hand harmlessly through the barrier.  “This is the respawn area for the dungeon.  Normally, this would let us set the dungeon instance to private or public and allow us to respawn at the entrance if we die inside.”

Sean sighed.  “Except this is Aislen – the shithole of AO.  So, of course, nothing works like normal here.  The dungeons in this area are always set to public, and the zone decreases the respawn time even further, dropping it to about ten minutes.  To make matters worse, it also affects the creatures inside the field.”  A few of the soldiers were murmuring now, while other, more experienced raid members just clutched their weapons and swallowed hard.

Dom’s eyebrows shot up.  So, the goblins would respawn in ten minutes?  Things were getting much more interesting.  And that also raised a few other questions, but Dom wasn’t sure how to address them without attracting more unwanted attention.  Better to hold off for now.

“Also,” Sean continued, zooming in on the map, “This is a two-part dungeon.  The first section is the goblin camp, but further inside is a cave complex that sometimes houses a large boss creature.”

“Sometimes?” Dom asked.

Sean shrugged.  “Best we can tell, the goblins capture native creatures on occasion.  Maybe they think they’re gods or something.  Hell, if I know.  And it doesn’t really matter.  The important thing is that it sometimes drops sweet, sweet loot – not just the scrap that the greenskins collect.  And even if they don’t, their hides are usually worth their weight in gold.

“So, the plan is to drive out the goblins, kill them, then press inside quickly.  The cave complex has its own respawn field, so if we make it inside the caves, we’ll respawn there if we die to the beast – assuming they’ve captured one.  Although, ideally, we get inside, kill the damn thing, and then take off.  So, we’re going to split the raid once the goblins are down.  Group A takes out the boss.  Group B recovers scrap from the goblins’ camp.  Obviously, we’re going to put the higher-level members in Group A.”

Sean turned back to the raid, observing a few confused expressions.

“You all got it?  We drive ‘em out, kill them, then push in and split up.”

Most of the raid members were nodding along now.

“Great.  Then get ready.  We move in five minutes!” Sean called out, and the raid dispersed, each member dividing into their subgroup – the air mages clustering together, nearly a dozen strong.  They checked their gear, counted their potions, and a few said a silent prayer.

Although Dom remained silent, his arms still crossed.  His eyes kept drifting to that sign hanging in Adrian’s hand.  Something was weird here, especially after their encounter with that hunting pack.  How many times had <The Jackals> raided these goblins?  Probably a lot, based on the way Sean had quickly outlined his plan.  And he’d mentioned they were stupid, but Dom couldn’t shake the look in that goblin leader’s eyes.  He’d been wary, sure.

But Dom had seen intelligence reflected there.

Sean walked up to Adrian and Dom.  “What do you need from us?” Adrian asked.

The raid leader shook his head.  “Nothing right now.  Just sit tight.  We’ve got this first part handled, and we need to spread the experience among the raid.  Although, we could probably use your help with Group A once we push inside.  Speaking of which, what are your levels?” he asked.  The question seemed casual, but Dom couldn’t shake the feeling that Sean was actually quite interested in the answer – as were a few of the nearby raid members who had perked up, conspicuously slowing their preparations and eyeing the pair.

Dom and Adrian both shrugged.  “Around sixty,” they said in unison.

Sean simply stared back skeptically, his mental wheels clearly spinning at that answer – trying to reconcile what he’d witnessed back in the glade, no doubt.  “Sixty?  Really?”  He shook his head.  “That’s pretty damn impressive.  But maybe stay back as best you can.  We don’t want you to overextend when we get to the boss – might put the rest of us in danger.”

Adrian just snorted, going back to examining the goblins’ “artwork.”

“It doesn’t bother you that these goblins can talk?” Dom asked, watching the raid leader.  He motioned at the signs.  “Or that they seem to be aware of your guild?”

Sean just snorted, shaking his head.  “Are you really asking me if I feel bad about killing some goblins?  This is a game, man.  They aren’t real.  And besides, they’ll just respawn.”

Same logic also applies to players, Dom thought to himself.

Sean met Dom’s gaze evenly.  “I didn’t see you mourning those corpses back in the glade, did I?” he asked.  There was a certain sort of cold logic to his words.  Dom wasn’t above killing, especially in a game or in self-defense.  He’d had to do it on more than a few occasions. But something about this still didn’t sit quite right with him.

“No, I guess you didn’t,” Dom answered finally, his expression stoic.

In a flash, Sean’s demeanor had relaxed.  “Anyway, don’t worry about these little shits.  They’ve killed plenty of us.  Besides, what’re they going to do about it?  They’ll just respawn, and we’ll come back to wipe them out again.  That’s what these games are all about, right?  Grinding?  For now, you two just kick back, relax, and enjoy the action.  You’re in for one hell of a show.  Even after that performance back in the glade, I bet you two will be impressed.”

With that, Sean walked off, shouting orders to the other guild members.

“I don’t like that guy,” Adrian murmured as he returned, Wingman chirping softly in agreement as she perched close to Dom’s leg.

The bard’s eyes shot to Dom.  “What’re you thinking?”

He cocked his head.  “That Sean’s speech just now was quite different than Booker’s.  It’s weird that he made Sean an officer, but maybe he needed someone cocky to tackle the jungle.  Either way, I wonder who’s right?  Is this really just another game or… something else entirely?”

“What’s your money on?”

“Not sure yet.  But I guess we’re going to find out soon enough,” Dom replied.

Chapter 24 - Spectating

Sean’s guildies had formed up at the mouth of the valley, creating a phalanx of metal shields, heavy mail, and polished longswords.  The effect was to narrow the path even further, funneling it down until it was just a few feet across.  And standing at the mouth of that “V” was Sean, a curved sword in each hand and a gleam in his eye as he stared at the entrance to the valley.

“So, uh, is this guy going to solo everything?” Adrian asked, kicking his feet where the trio sat on the lower branch of a nearby tree.  This offered them a great view of the upcoming “battle.”

Wingman just let out an uncertain cluck, nestling up beside the bard, who absently stroked his head.  It had been a long day for the chicken, and he hadn’t gotten his typical post-gorging nap.

“I’m not sure yet,” Dom answered.  His brow furrowed, his eyes skimming to the edge of the nearby mountain.  He could just barely make out the air mages positioned along that cliff, the men and women having scaled the mountain in a series of mana-assisted jumps.  That gave him an idea for later, but it was probably going to take a ton of training.

Even now, as the clock ticked down to the start of the raid, his mind was picking away at Sean’s strategy.

On cue, the air mages began to cast, streamers of amber energy winding around staves and wands as they pooled their mana, casting a brilliant yellow glow from the cliff’s edge.  Then that energy raced up into the sky in spiraling streamers, presumably positioned overtop the goblins’ camp.  A small cluster of clouds overhead began to swirl, condense, and thicken, darkening to a ruddy gray.  Even more strange, they appeared to be entirely stationary, not moving or budging along with the brisk wind that typically swept the mountainous islands.  As Dom and Adrian looked on, a few raindrops began to fall from the heavens, but it was merely an appetizer for what was to come.

Those few clouds abruptly split open, and a deluge poured down on the valley, the clouds growing even denser and turning almost black.  It was an odd sight given that sunlight still shone elsewhere, and the rain was localized to just a small area as the air mages continued to channel mana into the clouds. Lightning began to arc through the air, illuminating the area brightly and followed shortly by a concussive boom.  The electricity grew until the lightning was almost constant.  And still, the mages kept channeling.

The lightning abruptly peeled away from the clouds, striking down into the valley with a thunderous crack.  Then another.  And another.  The ground trembled with each blast of lightning.  The bolts slammed into the ground, accompanied by shouts of alarm, pain, and anger in the distance – the goblins, most likely.  Dom could hear distant drumbeats, a call to war.

Dom glanced at the mages again, noting that the group was taking turns to maintain the tiny storm front, working in shifts.  As the front line ran out of mana, they would step back and gulp down mana potions – likely made by their guild’s crafters.

And Dom could see their plan now.

The members of <The Jackals> had all specialized in AOE.  That made sense.  The jungle was dangerous, and most creatures attacked in packs – not just the goblins.  The monkeys.  Insects.  Even the two-headed panthers.  Attacking an area was also efficient for farming.  And it wasn’t just air mages, but Sean himself, Dom realized, his gaze shifting to the raid leader.  Even now, the man was downing a series of potions, more mages behind the phalanx casting layer after layer of buffs on him until his armor and skin glowed with an ominous multi-colored light.  Soon, lightning crackled up the length of his swords, occasionally arcing between the weapons.

And all eyes were on the mouth of the valley.

The ground was trembling more forcefully now – but that wasn’t just the storm.

The greenskins soon made an appearance, barreling down the mouth of that valley.  It was too narrow for them to use their guns effectively, but that didn’t seem to stop them.  They started blasting as soon as the travelers came into view, shooting around and through their own teammates – seemingly uncaring about how many of their own they cut down.  Puffs of black smoke drifted into the air, accompanied by the boom, boom, boom of their makeshift muskets and pistols.  A few of the weapons simply exploded when fired, blasting off fingers and sending metal shrapnel flying into their teammates.

Wingman was awake now, his eyes laser-focused on the fight, cocking his head at each blast.  He looked questioningly at Adrian – then to his guitar.

“Nah, it’s not time to play,” the bard said, not unkindly, patting the bird’s head.

“Not for us anyway,” Dom added.

The goblins’ bullets pinged off metal shields and armor, barely affecting the players at the mouth of the valley.  And as they continued to charge forward, a manic smile peeled at Sean’s lips.  The lightning aura now flickered up and across his arms, chest, and head, until he was ablaze with crackling energy.  Yet he waited, letting the goblins fill the pass and close with their formation.

When the greenskins were only a few feet away, abandoning their empty guns for crude axes, spears, and knives, Sean finally moved.  He was a sizzling blur of motion as he stepped forward, pivoting on his heel and launching into a spin with his arms outstretched.  The lightning seemed to enhance his movements, pushing him into a whirlwind of steel, electricity, and death.  His body was nearly obscured from sight.

Sean raced forward, cutting into the advancing line of goblins with abandon.  His swords cleaved cleanly through arms, legs, and stomachs, leaving only a bloody pulp and a fine crimson mist in his wake – a human woodchipper eating up and spitting out the creatures before him.

And yet, the goblins didn’t shy away from this death machine, this obvious trap.

They just barreled forward into it, grinding themselves up against Sean and pushing at the metal phalanx to no avail – only to have swords cut through exposed necks and spear into their stomachs.  They trampled their own injured, crushing them under hundreds of feet.  There were so many.  The greenskins just kept coming in an endless green tide.

“Good gods,” Adrian muttered.

Dom just shook his head slowly.  The pair had wreaked their own carnage, but this?  This was a massacre.  Like some sort of digital genocide…

Even as that thought crossed his mind, Dom’s brow furrowed again.  Something about this scene felt off – that same feeling he’d been having ever since he met Sean.  He understood <The Jackals’> strategy now.  It made sense.  Drive the goblins out and funnel them into a kill zone.  He got that.

But why the hell were the goblins going along with it?  The lightning bolts blasting their camp were probably a pain, but it hardly would have killed this many, and eventually the air mages would have run out of mana.  Even now, they had stopped channeling energy into the storm, and the clouds were slowly dissipating.  Why hadn’t they stayed put in the village, maintained their home team advantage, and used their guns to pick off the travelers?

From the way goblin leader had spoken to Dom, it was clear that at least some of them were intelligent.  The signs had illustrated that point as well.  They were also evidence that the goblins remembered Sean’s visits, Dom suddenly realized.  Now that was interesting.

If Sean killed them off each time, how exactly was that possible?

Did they retain their memories after death?  Much like the travelers?

Even ignoring those questions, if the greenskins knew Sean’s plan, why were they rushing to their deaths?  That just made this scene even more odd.

“Something here just doesn’t add up,” Dom muttered, staring stone-faced at the carnage.

Adrian shot him a curious look.  “You going to share with the class?  You’re better at this combat, strategy bullshit than yours truly – although, I more than make up for that with personal flair,” he added, cocking his hat at a roguish angle.

Dom snorted, but just shook his head.  “Not sure yet.”

He glanced at Adrian, and another thought crossing his mind.  He palmed the extra coin in his pocket – the one he’d taken from the goblin leader.  The Gambler’s words were still clear in his mind.  That chip offered passage back to the casino.  In which case, giving it to Adrian would let him return to the casino if he died.  That might be useful – especially if this went sideways.  With Deathwish, they should both respawn fast, and they could use their time in the casino to coordinate a plan when they came back.

“Here, take this,” Dom grunted, shoving the chip at Adrian.

The bard took it, inspecting the coin.  “Huh, what is this?  Doesn’t look like a normal coin.”  Eyeing the faces on either side, he bit at it.  “Although, the gold is real.  Damn.”

Adrian’s eyes shot to Dom.  “Where’d you get this?”

“There’s no time,” Dom replied, his eyes on the valley.  Already, the greenskin numbers were dwindling, a river of blood now flowing away from Sean’s position.  “You’re just going to have to trust me.  Hold on to it and don’t lose it – got it?”

Adrian wavered for a moment, then nodded and pocketed the coin just in time for the “battle” to come to an end.  A soldier pushed their sword through the neck of the final goblin.  Yet the travelers didn’t move out of position – not yet.

“All clear in the valley.”  The words were whispered on the winds, coming from the air mages still positioned along the cliff face.  After relaying the message, they began to descend, dropping down from the mountain in a series of mana-assisted hops, wind puffing along their feet with each leap.

At that signal, the soldiers at the mouth of the valley lowered their shields, and Sean spun to a stop.  They were all drenched in the goblins’ blood, a miniature mountain of gore now lingering along the center of the phalanx – guns and weapons sticking out at odd angles.  Sean nodded at a nearby water mage, and fresh rain soon beat down upon the group.  The water began to wash them clean, funneling away the blood swiftly even as the players began picking out the scrap weapons and armor from the goblins’ corpses, piling them up nearby.

“Looks like it’s time to move,” Dom murmured, hopping down from his branch – Adrian and Wingman following close behind.

As they approached the soldiers, Sean noticed the trio, a triumphant grin splitting his face.  “Not bad for a few minutes work, huh?” he said, waving at the carnage.

“What a mess,” Adrian muttered, eyeing the gore, and picking out a path that didn’t leave his boots stained with muddy blood.  He was forced to carry Wingman, the chicken trying to escape as it saw a feast just waiting nearby.  They didn’t have time to wait for that right now.

Dom shrugged in response.  “Looked efficient.  We ready to move now?  You mentioned before that we don’t have much time to stand around.”

Sean’s smile froze for a moment, taken aback by the trio’s nonchalance.  Maybe he thought that show would be more impressive?  Some sort of testament to his skills or something?  Dom wasn’t entirely convinced.  Sean’s abilities were impressive, likely boosting his native speed with air mana and relying on the stun and damage from the lightning to avoid taking any damage himself.  But this feat required a specific setup to be most effective.  And the goblins’ masochistic behavior was still wholly unexplained.

Yet Sean shook off his hesitation a moment later.  “Yeah, yeah… let’s get moving!” he shouted at his guildmates.  “The clock is now running!”

Group B immediately entered the valley, hauling along wooden sleds.  They left just a token force back at the mouth of the valley to pick through the goblins’ remains and stand guard.

As Group A gathered up – Sean, Dom, Adrian, Wingman, and nearly two dozen veteran players of <The Jackals> – Sean’s gaze scanned the members, fresh blood dripping from the swords still in hand.  “We’re going to have to take this at a run.  We don’t have time to dawdle.  There might also be some goblins hiding up ahead, so be careful.  As you saw here, they have no sense of self-preservation.”

The guildmembers all nodded and started off into the mouth of the valley.

Sean glanced back at Dom and his companions.  “We’re going to have to move fast, and we’re all higher levels than you two.”  He glanced at their clothing, noting that Dom was still wearing the novice shirt and pants.  “And our gear is a bit higher quality, so try to keep up as best you can.”  With that, he turned on his heel and started down the valley.

“Hey, we’re actually—” Adrian began.

Dom’s hand landed on bard’s shoulder, shaking his head.  “Don’t take it personally.  It’s just posturing.  Let’s be careful what we reveal to Sean – I don’t care if he thinks we’re noobs.  Only use our skills if we have to.  I don’t trust that guy even a little.”

Adrian grimaced.  “Fine.  But I’m starting to see why the goblins hate him.  Even apart from the genocide, he’s a real condescending asshole.”  He snorted out a laugh.  “I bet Wingman could beat his ass in a foot race at this point.”

Wingman perked up at that, letting out an affirmative cluck as Adrian set him on the ground.  Dom chuckled and patted the chicken’s head.  “I don’t doubt that.  But the safe play here is to keep a low profile.  At least until we know what game we’re playing.”

Adrian nodded.  Then the trio shot off following the members of Group A at a dead-on sprint – not encumbered by heavy plate, their native stats trained to peak performance, and their Sprint skill heading on up to Master rank already.  They had spent weeks in-game training in the jungle, their bodies hardened and weathered.  As a result, they took off so fast that they left a trail of bloody mist in their wake.

***

“Good gods those guys are fast,” one of the soldiers muttered as he stared off after the pair.  He looked at his companion.  “You ever seen anything like that?”

“No.  Just… no,” the man beside him answered, shaking his head incredulously.  “I get a weird vibe from those guys, especially with the way we found them.  Do you really think they could have killed all of those creatures by themselves?”

The other nodded.  “If you’d have asked me a few minutes ago, I’d have said no.  But did you see that big dude’s face?  Didn’t even flinch at what Sean could do – or the bodies.  I couldn’t stop shaking the first time I came to a raid.”

“Maybe Sean’s wrong,” the first traveler offered, rubbing at his neck and staring off after the trio.  “I’m not sure these guys are hacks.”

“Well, that’s above our paygrade either way.  I’m just glad we’re in Group B.”

His companion could agree with that, at least, the pair turning back to their work.  They eyed the remaining gore in disgust as they picked out any salvageable weapons or armor, adding them to the growing pile nearby.  But this was likely better than whatever awaited Group A, and both men said a silent prayer of thanks under their breath.

At least, Dom and the wannabe bard were Sean’s problem now.

***

Dom and Adrian quickly discovered that the goblins’ dead-end valley looked quite different than what they were accustomed to.  Gone were the trees and thick underbrush, leaving only massive stumps and damp soil in their wake.  Although, the reason for that was clear.  A crude fort built of repurposed timber and makeshift items lingered between them and their destination.  Group B was making their way toward the structure at a jog, hauling wooden sleds behind them while Group A sprinted past.

“Damn, these goblins have been busy,” Adrian commented as they ran, speeding across the ground and their feet kicking up dirt – Wingman easily keeping pace beside them.

“No kidding,” Dom observed, his eyes on the fort.  The greenskins must have harvested the trees in this valley to build that structure.  Although, that didn’t explain where they’d gotten the metals they used in their crude weapons… or the means to make them.  That group they encountered must have been a hunting party, the goblins leaving the valley to find food.  Just more evidence that they were quite clever – an intelligence at stark odds with the way the greenskins had just bum-rushed Sean’s raid.

Although, at this point, Dom just threw the fort and the tree stumps they passed on the ever-growing pile of reasons this whole thing felt strange, bordering on absurd.

The trio soon arrived at the other end of the valley, Sean’s voice drifting through the air on a mana-infused breeze.  “Okay, everyone, group up! We’ve only got about 8 minutes to clear this cave and get the hell out of here!”

Dom gestured at Adrian, and they slowed, soon sliding to a halt.  Sean glanced in their direction, looking over the heads of nearly 30 veteran players.  His eyes widened slightly in surprise.  It seemed he hadn’t expected them to keep pace.

The mouth of a large cavern lingered nearby, more signs picketing the dirt outside.  This time, the message was more direct – announced with large skulls and squashed green bodies.  Whatever was being stored inside was dangerous.  It seemed even the goblins were scared of it since they’d gone to the trouble of boarding up the entrance with thick wooden beams.  They’d gone as far as constructing a crude gate, lashing together the timber with rusty chains.

Sean gestured at the cluster of air mages beside him, and they all turned their attention to the gate, amber energy coiling around wands and staves before arcing forward in an overwhelming barrage of lightning.  Several of the beams simply burst apart under the pressure as the gate shuddered from the impact while the remaining timbers caught fire.  The flames grew swiftly, fed by a stiff breeze from the mages.  The blaze ate quickly into the remains of the gate as the raid members looked on.

“Tom is going to be tanking this one,” Sean announced, ignoring the fires at his back.  They didn’t have any time to waste.  He gestured at a nearby traveler – a massive, grizzled man decked out in full plate and a tower shield.  Dom could only assume his gear had cost a fortune.  Each step he took let out a loud, heavy clank.

“Healers, stay on Tom.  Mages, try to CC and stun.  Everybody else, just take the damn thing down.  Remember, this cave will have its own respawn field.  Remember to rebind as we enter.  If need be, we can respawn, kill the boss, and then escape together as the goblins reset.  There should be a few minutes where they’re confused and disorganized,” Sean continued.

His guildies all nodded and took up a formation in front of the gate – Tom in front, the foot soldiers behind him, followed by mages and ranged.  Meanwhile, the gate ahead of him let out a loud crack as another beam collapsed in a blast of flame and crumbling wood.

They didn’t have long left.

“What do you want from us?” Adrian asked as Sean rotated back into the rear of the group.

The raid leader side-eyed them skeptically, inspecting their novice attire and the oversized chicken that stood beside them.  To his credit, they probably didn’t look that intimidating when they weren’t standing over a pile of corpses.

“Just try not to get in the way,” Sean grunted before turning back to the gate.

Adrian shot Dom a questioning look, earning him a shrug.

Dom: If they’re about to fail, we’ll step in.  I don’t want to get trapped in there.

Adrian: Fair enough.  Although, I say we let Sean die…

Dom let out a low chuckle, a few of the travelers glancing at the trio over their shoulders – noting the way they stood there idly, their limbs relaxed, their hands empty.  In contrast, Sean’s guildies looked a little… tense.  One guy was noticeably shaking.  Another was not-so-discreetly vomiting into his helmet.

“Seems they’re not used to dying,” Dom thought to himself.  Although, that was probably fair.  Most travelers likely hadn’t died thousands of times already.  And if Sean regularly employed the tactics Dom had just witnessed, most of these players probably didn’t often face any real combat.  At least, not if they weren’t already guaranteed victory by overwhelming force.

The gate let out a final CRACK, collapsing completely and flames blasting outward.  The air mages followed up without hesitation.  A gale force wind swept across the remains of the gate, blowing away the flames and leaving only smoldering embers in their wake.  A dark tunnel now awaited them, broken only by a shimmering blue veil – another respawn zone.

Tom let out a battle cry, the sound tinny and echoing within his helm before he rushed into the cave to the clank, clank, clank of his armor and the screech of scraping metal.  The others followed his lead, Sean and the mages bringing up the rear at a brisk jog.  Each traveler hesitated as they stepped through the blue barrier, presumably updating their respawn location.

For their part, Dom and Adrian shared another look.

To his credit, Tom might be an excellent tank.  But his armor seemed like overkill.  And the weight made him… slow.  Like really, really slow.  He sure as hell wouldn’t be able to dodge.

But presumably, these people knew what they were doing.  So, the pair shrugged and followed the rest of the raid group, stepping through that blue barrier.

System Message:  Entering Boss Room

This dungeon is designated as a “raid boss” encounter.  Twenty or more players are recommended to successfully complete this dungeon.

Travelers may reset their spawn point to this cavern, allowing them to respawn at the entrance, even if they die outside of the cavern.  You know, in case you get thrown outside and trampled to death… Just a completely random example.  Oh, and the respawn time is reduced to 10 minutes.

Would you like to reset your respawn location?  [Yes/No]

Dom just tapped “Yes” and waved aside the prompt, Adrian mimicking his movements and Wingman bringing up the rear.  The chicken’s eyes were wide as he inspected the cave somewhat sullenly, likely looking for food after he’d been denied his snack earlier.

“Don’t worry,” Dom said, patting the chicken’s head.  “I’ll make sure you get a special meal later.”  At those words, Wingman perked up, his eyes shining brightly and bouncing from foot to foot in his little food dance.

“You shouldn’t make those sorts of promises.  You’ll spoil him,” Adrian commented as the trio ambled after the rest of the raid.  Since they had no role here, it wasn’t like they needed to rush.  Dom also noted that the tunnel stretched on for a decent distance.  Possible more than 100 yards at a guess, burrowing deeply into the nearby mountain.

Meanwhile, his eyes kept skimming to the UI in the corner of his vision, tracking his luck multiplier.  With a tap, he brought up the prompt.

Chaotic Blessing: Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+3.7).

This should be a piece of cake.  Right?

Dom’s brow furrowed as he read the notice.  His luck multiplier had actually been increasing slowly with each step toward the cave.  Dom could only assume that meant that their risk was rising as they neared whatever boss lingered inside this cave.

He couldn’t see any other reason it would improve, anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted as the tunnel abruptly opened into a massive circular cavern.  The floor was dotted with dozens of stalagmites that arced up from the floor, each at least a few feet in diameter.  The ceiling stretched up, up, up, the rock funneling toward an opening at the apex where sunlight shone down through that hole.  The ray of light formed a circle of warmth along a rock ledge in the center of the room.

And on that rock lay a gigantic beast, basking in that glow.

It almost looked like a rhino – if an earthborn rhino had decided to bulk up, start doing steroids and had been exposed to radiation that caused it to mutate and form thick, armored plates. It was at least thirty feet long, and paneled chitin riddled its skin, the surface cracked and aged.  Its legs were thick as tree trunks, rippling muscle lashed tightly to dense bone.  But its head drew Dom’s attention.  Instead of one horn, three jutted from its forehead, tapering to razor-sharp points.

“Yeah, that looks like a dinosaur,” Adrian muttered.

“I was going to go with a rhino,” Dom replied.

“Really?  A rhino?” Adrian demanded, glaring at Dom now.  “You really have no imagination sometimes.  That’s clearly a dinosaur.”

“Since when did you become the expert on the native wildlife here?” Dom shot back in a dry voice.  “Or dinosaurs?”

“Uh, maybe since I started examining and cataloging the creatures we encountered?  You remember my Photograph Rule—”

“You mean how you literally babbled yourself to death?” Dom interjected.

Wingman was just looking back and forth between the pair as they bickered.  Their debate wasn’t entirely lost on the rest of the raid group either, who were glancing over their shoulders in confusion as Adrian’s voice kept rising in volume.  Although, as the bard continued ranting about how Dom was “close-minded” and “should read a book or something,” Dom decided his attention might be better spent on the rhino…

Or dinosaur…

Or fucking-whatever.

Tom was already advancing on the beast, although Dom noted his steps had slowed.  His armor gave him away immediately, the creature opening one huge eye lazily.  As it saw the pack of intruders, it heaved a big sigh, the force of that breath puffing up the dirt into a cloud of dust.  Then its body shuddered, its muscles twisting and heaving as it shoved its bulk upright.  It turned toward the group, letting out a shuddering growl that seemed to vibrate the air around it.

“Like, look at this!” Adrian continued, a display suddenly popping up in Dom’s face with the image of a dinosaur.  “Tri-cer-a-tops.  Say it with me real slow.  It has three horns and armored plates.”

“Uh-huh.  But how about we pay attention to the battle?” Dom offered.

Even as the pair bickered, the tank had raised his shield, layer after layer of energy suddenly coating his armor as the mages in the rear began to cast buffs and healing spells.  Sean and the other guild members had spread out into a loose semi-circle around the ledge, their weapons held tightly.  That moment of stillness seemed to stretch on for several long seconds.

“You’re just trying to get out of admitting that you’re wrong!” Adrian huffed.

As though the bard’s words had been the signal, Tom surged toward the beast in a rush of steel and glimmering energy, racing up that ledge in a heroic charge…

Only to be met by the rhino-triceratops.  It shoved itself forward on its stumpy legs, barreling down the shallow slope of the rock ledge – several tons of flesh bearing down upon just a few hundred pounds.  To make matters worse, the rhino-triceratops had gravity on its side.  The physics really didn’t add up, and Dom winced in anticipation of what was coming next—

Then Tom and the beast collided.

And the creature won.  Instantly.

Its horns crashed into that shield, the surface crumpling under the impact despite the buffs coating Tom’s body.  Tom let out a grunt of pain as he was lifted airborne and sent hurtling backward through the air, spewing bloody droplets from his mouth as he flew through the cavern.  Yet the beast wasn’t done.  Emerald energy coiled around its horns, and suddenly, several new stalagmites erupted from the ground, spearing into the air and piercing Tom’s armor before cutting deeply into his flesh.  Within mere moments, his body was impaled – suspended there, his blood leaking back down the stone.

“Well, shit,” Adrian muttered, finally paying attention.

Dom just shook his head.  It was clear that Tom didn’t have the training or strength to take that thing head-on, especially not with gravity at the beast’s back.  He hadn’t even bothered to use a skill to counteract the beast’s charge.

The few earth and water mages in the rear were trying to heal Tom, but it was futile.  Even without access to the raid UI, Dom could see that the tank had damage to multiple organs, and one stone spike looked like it had pierced his heart, blood pouring down the rock and pooling along the base of the stalagmites.  He was as good as dead.

Sean must have come to the same conclusion as Dom.  “Shit!  Tank is dead!  Don’t waste mana.  We’ll need to wait for him to respawn.  DPS just try to kite if you draw aggro.  Casters try to slow it down!” he barked out orders, even as the beast barreled down the remainder of the slope.  It was racing toward the line of DPS and trampling one guild member who was too slow to dodge or run.  His body and armor were crushed instantly, and his blood leaked out along the ground.

The rest of the formation had begun to scatter.

“Ahh, poor Tom.  I kind of liked that guy,” Adrian murmured.

“You didn’t even know him,” Dom grunted.

“True.  But I liked the way he thinks.  He had imagination,” the bard replied, tapping his head with one finger.  “The heroic warrior wreathed in light and charging alone toward a dinosaur… that, uh, casts magic.  It’s the stuff of old school ballads about badass heroes if you ask me.”

Adrian hesitated as he stared at Tom’s bloodied corpse.  “Actually, I wonder if he managed to get a screenshot.  Don’t worry, Tom.  I got you, bro!” he shouted as he pulled up his UI.  “Just hang in there, buddy…” the bard trailed off, chuckling to himself under his breath.

“Shit, sorry.  That one was too easy.  Low hanging tank… Shit.  Did it again,” the Bard muttered to himself as he swiped at the air.

Screams were now echoing through the cave as the beast slowly ran down the members of Sean’s group and skewered them upon stone spikes.  They had spread out, forcing the creature to run after them individually.  But even so, it was a losing battle.  The other DPS didn’t really have a chance to hit the beast, much less break through its armor and take it down.  They needed someone to pull the creature’s attention and hold it long enough for the mages to stun it and let the rest of the raid pile on the damage.

“So, annnywaaay, what exactly is our play here?  We going to help?” Adrian asked, glancing at Dom.

He let out a sigh.  He didn’t see that they had much choice. Sean had finally drawn aggro, using flashes of lightning and the buffs coating his body to stay ahead of the creature – but he didn’t have room to attack, which was unfortunate since he was likely their heaviest hitter.  The others tried to pick at the rhino-triceratops, but they couldn’t land a solid blow with it moving around, their spells and attacks glancing off its armor and leaving only scratches.  That wasn’t a winning strategy.  They were just stalling.

Sean was an asshole, but maybe if they saved his ass, that might buy them some goodwill with <The Jackals>.  The bottom line was that they still controlled most of Aislen.

Dom also didn’t relish the idea of being stuck in this damn cave with the beast.

“I guess…” Dom answered finally.

“Bumrush?” Adrian asked, referring to one of their formations.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Dom grunted back, stretching his arms and twisting his torso, his bones crackling and crunching in response.  Wingman let out a questioning cluck, and Dom just patted his head.  “Nah, not this time.  You should stay with Adrian.”

The chicken looked sad, hanging his head.

“Don’t worry, you can help me out,” Adrian offered, setting down his case gently on a nearby boulder and gingerly pulling out his new guitar.  “We’re a band, right?”

Wingman’s excited squawk of approval was almost audible over the screams of the nearby players.

“Hell yeah,” Adrian said with a smile, clicking on the air crystals at the base of the guitar.  Then his eyes shot to Dom.  “Ready?”

Dom cracked his neck, lowering himself into a sprinter’s crouch, eyeing that damn rhino-triceratops as it turned and chased Sean back toward Dom.  Perfect…

He just nodded at the bard.

Adrian’s fingers strummed across his guitar, and a screech of sound lifted into the air, accompanied by the blast of Wingman’s squawk as he raised his beak to the ceiling.  The travelers’ heads whipped in their direction, their eyes wide and mouths dropping open.  This was War Chant, but it was on another level – possibly enhanced by Adrian’s new guitar – the sound echoing off the cave walls, the stone only adding to the acoustics.

Dom felt that energy vibrate the air around him, seeming to infuse his limbs until they hummed with energy, a pulsing red aura coating his skin.  At the same time, a prompt crashed down in front of him.

System Notice:  Traveler Buff

Adrian has begun playing War Chant, his song infusing his allies with strength and resilience.  One of your group members has added their voice to the song, amplifying its power.  Current song multiplier: x1.5

- +100 Strength

- +20% Damage Resistance

Dom raised an eyebrow at that.  Other group members could enhance Adrian’s songs?  That was interesting, but for now, it would have to wait.  The rhino-triceratops had stopped in its tracks, stunned by the sudden noise, its eyes focusing on Adrian and Wingman.  This was Dom’s opportunity.  He took a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity.

Then he activated Bull Rush.

The stone cracked beneath his feet from the force of his launch, and Dom hurtled through the air in a blur of motion, speeding past Sean.  The raid leader was only barely able to turn his head as Dom rocketed by.  The rhino had begun to move again, its legs pushing off the floor as it tried to pick up steam.  Then, just before impact, Dom released the air in his lungs in a massive blast as a Challenging Shout ripped from his throat.  That sonic wave of force slammed into the rhino – stunning it again for a mere second.

That was all he needed, just long enough to blunt its charge.

Then they collided in an explosion of kinetic energy, spewing up a thick cloud of dust and the ground cracking and trembling beneath them.  As that cloud began to clear, Dom was still standing there, his hands grabbing onto two of those horns.  He’d blunted the entirety of the rhino’s charge, the pair’s eyes locked and their muscles straining.  In the background, Adrian blasted his guitar – a battle hymn that left Dom’s blood boiling in his veins.

The other travelers stood there, staring in mute shock as the rhino-triceratops pawed the ground, trying to shove at Dom.

A thin smile pulled at his lips, and Dom’s own legs surged.  This felt good.  To go all out.  To give in completely.  He could feel every inch of his body – every beat of his heart, twitch of his muscles, and breath of air surging through his lungs. There wasn’t room for anything else… any other thought or fear.  He shoved back, the rhino trembling beneath his hands.

Emerald energy began to coil around those horns.

The ground beneath him began to tremble.

Dom’s smile widened.  I already know that trick.

All at once, he let go, letting the rhino-triceratops push him backward only for spears of stone to rocket up out of the ground and slam into the underside of the beast’s head.  They punched through its armor before stabbing through its jaw.  Thick, soupy blood leaked back down those stalagmites.  Dom stared down at the creature, his hands still wrapped around its horns.  Their eyes locked.  He saw fear and despair reflected back at him – a panicked resignation.  The realization it was about to die.  Dom knew that feeling.

He could also see his luck multiplier dropping rapidly – proof that the beast was dying.

Dom moved to release his grip.  To end this…

Only for a notification to flash before his eyes.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (-5.3).

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, bro…

The prompt’s text was odd.  What the fuck—?

Dom didn’t get to finish that thought.

“Now!” someone cried from behind him.

He felt the hum of energy before he saw it.  Dom’s entire world was suddenly on fire, his limbs arcing, his muscles snapping taut.  Uncontrolled…  Uncontrollable…  Like he’d just touched a live wire.  Flashes of light filled his vision, but he couldn’t blink them away.  The electricity arced through his hands, surging into the beast before him, their eyes locked together in pain now. Dom couldn’t move at all, his body taut.  Coils of smoke curled up and away from the rhino-triceratops, and its eyes slowly began to close.

Yet that energy didn’t end – didn’t stop or relent.

Lightning.  The air mages, Dom realized belatedly, his thoughts pain-filled and fuzzy.  It was only his training that allowed even the semblance of rational thought right now – thousands of deaths filled with broken bones, punctured organs, and flayed skin.  Someone was blasting away at the beast’s corpse, and Dom was collateral damage.

But why haven’t they stopped?

The creature was dead…

Then a familiar face stepped around in front of Dom, a cruel smile pulling at Sean’s lips.  He held those swords, one in each hand, lightning arcing between them and occasionally lashing at Dom.  “That was genuinely impressive,” he said.  “And I appreciate the assist.  But unfortunately, this is where your journey ends.”

Chapter 25 - Soul-Crushing

Dom strained against the lightning coursing through his body, willing his muscles to move… his legs to stand… his body to do something.  His leg twitched, and he rose jerkily.  Sean took a step back in surprise, only for Dom to slump to the ground again.  His health was draining, slowly but inevitably, none of his many skills offering any resistance against lightning.

“Now, now.  Don’t get up.  This will be over shortly,” Sean said, waving a hand at his guild members and gesturing for them to loot the beast.  “Take care of the rhino’s corpse and get ready to move.  “We need to make it out of here before the respawn.”

“It’s a fucking triceratops, asshole,” Adrian’s voice cut through the air.  “And go ahead, run like little bitches after we carried you.”

Dom struggled to look up, each tiny movement costing him.

Adrian stood there, his hands and feet bound by thick bands of air mana.  A smirk lingered on his lips as he glared at Sean.  Beside him, Wingman had also been restrained – albeit less humanely.  The chicken was pitched over on his side, squirming against the tight bands that wrapped around his chest and neck.  As Dom glanced at his UI, he could see that Wingman’s health was dropping, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe.

Sean advanced on Adrian, backhanding the bard with a lightning-infused fist.  The bard pitched over and struck the ground hard, blood spraying from his mouth as his jaw smacked against a rock with an audible snap.  “I’ve wanted to do that for ages!  You never seem to shut up, do you?”

As Wingman tried to peck at his leg, Sean kicked him.  Hard.  Something in the creature’s ribcage cracked, and blood began to leak from his beak as his health dropped.

Yet Dom couldn’t do anything.  Couldn’t move.  Couldn’t talk.

Even as his skin continued to burn and flay, smoke coiling up into the air.

“I’m… I’m starting to see why the goblins want to anally probe you with their spears,” Adrian grunted around his broken jaw, ignoring the pain as he shifted upright and spat out blood on the cavern floor.  “They’re clearly looking for whatever is stuck up there—”

Adrian was cut off as Sean’s body flashed again, his foot smashing into bard’s stomach and the wind escaping his lungs in a whoosh.  Then Sean froze, his eyes going distant and a scowl tugging at his lips.  “Well, damn, looks like this counts as torture.”  He swiped aside an invisible notice.  “Then we should just go ahead and end it.”

As he spoke, a sword appeared in Sean’s hand in a blur of motion.  He lunged forward in a single blazing strike – lightning crackling along the metal.  Adrian just glared up at him, spitting out another wad of blood.  He didn’t flinch or waver for a second.  Even as the sword struck, splitting through his scalp, then his skull, his blood spraying through the air.  Moments later, Adrian’s body fell back on its side, those dead eyes staring toward Dom.

Dead.  He’s dead.  Dom’s thoughts were wheeling, electricity still coursing through his body – the energy just weak enough to prolong his own death.  Allow him to watch Sean torture and kill his friends.

As he stared at the bard’s listless, vacant eyes, Dom could feel a sense of dread well in his stomach.  He’d seen Adrian die before.  Hundreds of times.  But something about this was different.  Colder.  Crueler.  The animals in the jungle ate to feed.  To survive.

But the gleam in Sean’s eyes didn’t speak to necessity or fear or desperation.  Dom had seen that look before.  Soulless.  Dead-eyed.  Morally bankrupt.  A soul hardened to a razer’s edge until all empathy had been burned up, and he was little more than an object.  A machine…

A weapon.

Wingman let out a weak squawk of alarm as he saw Adrian die, struggling against his own bindings and the air mana flickering.  Sean whirled, a cruel grin stretching across his face.  “Now, you, though.  You’re not a traveler.  You’re a future sandwich,” he bit out, pressing his foot down on the chicken’s neck forcefully, its body squirming.

Sean glanced up, taking in the reactions of his raid group.  They stood around this scene, the air mages channeling mana, his troops picking over the rhino-triceratops’ corpse.  Their eyes wide, and a range of expressions flitting across their faces – from amusement to fear to shock.  More than a few couldn’t watch this, turning away from what Sean was doing.

Yet, no one lifted a finger to help them.

Even after Dom and his companions had saved their asses.

Sean’s smile just widened, his foot digging in harder on the chicken’s neck.

“Why?” Dom managed to ground out.  He needed to stall.  To give himself a chance to do… something.  Anything.

Sean turned back to him, raising an eyebrow.  He shrugged, his sword dangling limply in his hand.  “You’ve disrupted the status quo.  You’ve fucked up our crafting operation back in Aislen by feeding mats to the locals.  I originally thought you were just a hack, even after the scene we saw when we found you.  It was clear you three didn’t do all of that damage.  Or did you think I wasn’t going to notice the bullet holes in the creatures?”

Dom could only look on in surprise, struggling to stay conscious as red notifications flickered in the corner of his UI.  Apparently, Sean was smarter than he looked.

The raid leader shook his head.  “But my orders were to test you.  So, we put Tom up as the tank, hoping to lure you out.  To see if you really had some mettle.  And as it turns out, you do!  Color me fucking shocked.

“Which means you’re a real risk to our guild.  You can survive in the jungle, you’ve messed with our income, and you’re slowly helping others do the same – either through training or by example.”  Sean glanced at Adrian.  Then he shook his head, letting out a low chuckle.  “Can you believe Booker actually wanted me to try to recruit you?  But it’s clear you and this other cocky idiot aren’t team players.  And, besides, I personally don’t love competition.”

“Sir,” one of the other travelers began tentatively, Sean glaring at the man – who swallowed hard.  “We, uh, only have two minutes to get out of here before the respawn.”

“Your… own men… trapped,” Dom managed to grind out, his vision wavering.  Those travelers that had died to the boss creature would just respawn at the entrance to the cave.  So, Sean had sacrificed his own men to pull this off?

The raid leader smirked at him.  “You mean we pretended to rebind our spawn point?”  Sean shrugged.  “No, my men will be respawning back in Aislen shortly.”  He saw Dom’s surprise.  “What?  What’s the worst that happened if you turned out to be a hack?  We all die and miss out on some boss loot?”  He paused as he glanced at the beast’s corpse, his smile widening.  “Thanks for that, by the way.  It’s a nice added bonus.”

He waved his sword at Dom.  “You, on the other hand?  You and your bard friend are fucking trapped in here… with a damn army about to respawn just outside this cave.  You saw that open fucking field.  You two are never getting out of this valley.”

“But, alas, we’re out of time,” Sean continued with a grin.  “Let me leave you with a final message.  A reminder that you flew too close to the fucking sun.”

As he spoke, Sean flipped the sword and slid the blade down.  The point pierced Wingman’s eye, the chicken letting out a tortured squawk as the metal slid into him, blood pooling up around the wound.  Yet Sean kept going.  Slowly.  Ever so slowly.  He twisted the blade on the way down, the chicken writhing in pain.  And as he did so, Sean watched Dom’s reaction.  The horror in his eyes as Wingman’s motions became weaker.  His breathing more ragged. As the creature’s good eye met Dom’s, begging for help.  Pleading.

And in the face of that terror, Dom could feel rage surge through his body.  He struggled against his bindings and let out a grunt, slowly and ponderously rising to his feet on jerky limbs.  Smoke was streaming off his body as the energy ate into dense muscle – his health plummeting.  He ignored the burn and rip of his own limbs as he struggled to his feet, wavering there and glaring at Sean.

The other guild members stared at him in a mixture of horror and fear now, several backing up a few steps as they watched Dom.  Yet, he still couldn’t move.  Couldn’t attack.

“Impressive,” Sean commented dryly.  Then he jerked down on the blade sharply, and Wingman’s body went still.  “But not enough.”

“Come on!” he shouted at the others.  “We’re moving out.”

That broke the raid members from their stupor, the group pivoting toward the entrance and taking off at a jog.  Even as the air mages left, they maintained the channel on the lightning that caged Dom, the electricity never abating.  Although, more than a few looked back at this macabre scene in disgust – at Dom’s body, still wrapped in lightning and the skin sloughing from his body, standing there through sheer willpower.

“Take care, Dom!” Sean called out in parting, saluting with his blood-stained sword.

Then he turned.  His air mana flared, and his legs blurred as he rapidly caught up with his teammates, leaving Dom alone in the cave with the corpses of his friends before him, their blood pooling along the ground.  He stood there as the electricity ate into his muscle.  As his legs finally collapsed and he sunk to the ground.

Red notifications flickered and swam across his vision, yet Dom only had eyes for Adrian and Wingman.  He stared at their vacant, dead expressions and injuries, replaying the memory of their last moments.  How they’d fought.  Had looked to him for help – to protect them.

However, Dom hadn’t been able to help them.

He hadn’t been able to do anything.

That same trapped feeling returned to him then – a hundred times stronger now – more painful than any electrical burn.  That cloying claustrophobia.  That sense of helpless panic.  Like he was drowning.  He hadn’t been able to help his friends.  But of course, he hadn’t.

Dom couldn’t even save himself…

Even as that thought flickered through his fractured mind, his health finally hit zero, the world slowly breaking apart around him until there were only those two pairs of dead eyes.  Demanding…  Accusing…  Hopeless…

And then, merciful darkness consumed him completely.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

***

Dom abruptly respawned in the casino, not even bothering to blunt his fall.  He slammed down hard on his chest, and his forehead smacked against the cold tile, yet he barely felt the pain.  In contrast to the aching, gnawing sensation in his stomach, a simple bruise was nothing.

He just felt… numb.

“Hey—” Adrian cut off as he saw Dom lying there.  “Oh, shit.  You alright?”

Dom barely registered the bard’s hands rolling him over.  Adrian’s concerned expression soon hovered above him, the image blurry and shifting.  He hauled Dom to his feet, showing more strength than should be possible from his slender frame.  He pulled Dom up and onto a stool, only for his bulky form to lean heavily against a wooden counter.  Dom only vaguely realized that they were sitting at the Gambler’s old, unused bar.

“Where the hell are we?” Adrian muttered.  A pause and then, “Shit, man, what’s going on?”  His voice sounded more panicked that time.  Also, closer.  Dom could see the bard was looming beside him.  “You look bad.  Really bad.  Maybe I should contact in-game support?  Or a game master…”

A weak squawk interrupted him, Dom finally lifting his head.

“Oh, fuck,” Adrian muttered as he saw the chicken.

Wingman had respawned and was stepping over to them, but he was weaving unsteadily, letting out confused noises as he accidentally toppled into a stool, sending it crashing to the floor.  The reason was readily apparent.  His left eye was gone, replaced with thick white scar tissue.

System Message:  Pet Status

Your pet has died after undergoing intense torture.  While he was able to respawn, he has been permanently damaged, losing the use of his left eye.

Dom swallowed hard, swiping aside that notice, even as Wingman tried to paw at the scars with one wing, crawling over to Dom with a pleading look in his remaining good eye.

“Shit,” Dom grunted, breaking out of his shock, and leaning down.  He picked up the chicken, cradling him in his arms.  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

“As though any of that shit was your fault?” Adrian demanded angrily.

Dom just shook his head.  That feeling in his chest – that immense pressure – it hadn’t faded.  The truth was that he blamed himself.  He’d known better than to trust Sean – than to trust any of <The Jackals>.  He should have second-guessed his luck multiplier.  Should have been strong enough to free himself — to protect his teammates.  He was responsible for his own inaction.  His own negligence.

“What’s wrong with you?  You’ve died tons of times, even if that time sucked – a lot,” Adrian offered more tentatively.  Another long pause.  “Are you okay?”

Dom winced at that.  It was the first time the bard had ever asked him that.

That gods-damned fucking question that every single person he met seemed to ask.  Was it obvious?  That he was broken?  Damaged?  Dying?  Did they really care?  Or was it just a pleasant mask?  Another façade – another game?  Another asshole leading with polite bullshit and just waiting to stab him in the back, whether it was with a damned medical bill or a sword.

And in the face of that damned question…

Of his own death…

Of the deaths of his friends…

Dom finally snapped.

“No!  No, I’m not fucking okay,” Dom growled out, even Wingman looking at him in concern where he lay in his arms, his injury momentarily forgotten.

Adrian’s eyes widened, but he didn’t take offense.  He only slipped onto a barstool near Dom, waiting.  Watching.  “Okay.  So, tell me what’s wrong.”

Dom sighed, shaking his head.  Where should he even start?

How could Adrian possibly understand?  He was just playing a game…

“I take it that it’s not about AO or that fucker Sean,” Adrian began, helping Dom find his mental footing.  “And like I said, we’ve died lots of times together.  Hundreds… maybe thousands.”  The bard hesitated.  “You’ve also kept info about your real life to yourself.  I’m guessing that scene back there – that asshole backstabbing us – it struck a chord?”

Dom took a shaky breath.  Fuck.  Adrian had hit the nail on the head.  And Dom’s immediate response was to recoil.  To retreat.  To go numb like he had ever since he’d seen those black splotches on those glowing blue screens.  Or to charge into battle again, killing himself over and over as though the adrenaline and pain could sear those memories from his mind.

But was he really going to run from this shit forever?

Or however long he had left…

Dom took a deep, ragged breath, mustering every ounce of willpower he had.  He could run for hours.  Scale mountains and trees.  Die over and over and over again.  He could have a fistfight with a gods-damned, earth-mana flinging rhino-triceratops.

But this?  This cost everything he had and more.

“I’m dying,” Dom finally muttered.

A pause and then, “Aren’t we all?” Adrian quipped, a faint grin on his face.  “I certainly feel like it after getting my head split open.”

Dom just shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Adrian’s.  “That’s not what I meant.”

Adrian suddenly froze as he saw the despair lingering in Dom’s gaze.  His eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open.  “Wait, you mean like dying, dying?  Shit.  Fuck.”

Dom nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to Wingman and petting him softly.

“How long?” Adrian asked quietly.

“6-12 months… maybe.”

A long silence lingered in the air after that answer, punctuated only by the occasional chime and buzz of the nearby slot machines.

“Am I… am I the first person you’ve told?”

Dom nodded again.  That was all he could manage.  His composure was cracking, as though finally admitting his fate had opened the flood gates.  He could feel moisture budding in his eyes, and Wingman’s face grew blurry.  The chicken let out a confused cluck, nudging Dom with his head as though he could sense something was wrong.  That just hit even harder.  He was forced to press his hands together until his knuckles cracked, fighting against that familiar ocean of despair and panic that swelled and crashed in his chest.

“It’s fucking hopeless.  I can’t afford the treatment.  Neither can my old man,” he grunted finally.  “It’s a death sentence.”

Another long silence.  Dom’s eyes remained fixed on Wingman.

He couldn’t look up, couldn’t face the pity he knew he’d find in Adrian’s eyes.  And suddenly, Dom knew why he’d avoided this.  It wasn’t the false civility or feigned compassion.  He knew his friends cared for him.  His father loved him.

No, it was the certainty that he’d see reflected in their expressions.  The confirmation.

That it was all real.

That he was actually dying—

“So, it’s treatable.  Well, then fuck this mopey bullshit,” Adrian said finally.

Dom looked up sharply.  That wasn’t what he’d expected.  He’d been expecting pity and sympathy – like nails hammered into his damn coffin.  Not the fierce expression in Adrian’s eyes or the way his lips were pinched taut.  That was a look Dom knew well – usually, one the bard wore when facing down a pack of panthers or tackling one of Dom’s new training regimens.

“What?” Adrian demanded.  “Are you just going to give up?”  The bard insisted with a challenging expression.  “After everything we’ve been through, are you really going to throw in the towel over one little death?  Are you really that afraid to die, Dom?”

There was a fire in the bard’s eyes that felt familiar.  Like déjà vu…

Dom remembered asking him that same question – just before pushing him over a cliff.

And Adrian was right.  He’d died hundreds… no, thousands of times now.  He’d had his head caved in.  His legs crushed.  His ribs cracked.  His skin flayed from bone and muscle.  He’d been eaten, stabbed, poisoned, bled, and ripped open.

So, what was one more death?

Dom slowly shook his head.

“Yeah, didn’t fucking think so,” Adrian answered.  “Your problem isn’t that you’re dying.  Your problem is that you need cash and don’t have much time.  But this game – this world – well, it solves at least one of those problems.  You’ve played for what?  At least a week in the real world now?  A month in here?  12 months in the real world is four years in this place.

“That’s enough time to figure out how to make some money,” Adrian finished with a shrug.

Dom snorted.  That was one way of looking at it.  “But we’re still talking a LOT of money.  Something in the range of $500,000 to a million.”

“Geez,” Adrian muttered.  “Of course, you had to go and get really sick,” he offered with a low chuckle.  Then his expression sobered.  “Still, that’s a lot of money.”  He cocked his head.  “But maybe we don’t need it all to start the treatment—"

The bard cut himself off, snapping his fingers.

“Wait!  I saw something the other day,” Adrian trailed off, swiping at the air.  Only moments later, a screen flickered into existence, rotating toward Dom.  He could see he was looking at a website called Rogue-Net.  It looked like some cross between a forum and online marketplace, a long list of posts scrolling down the screen.

“I’ve been using this site for a while,” Adrian offered in a distracted voice as he navigated through several menus.  “It’s the best place for information about the game.  I was even trying to find a decent instrument on the in-game auction house – or find a crafter.  That was, until you gave me my new guitar,” Adrian explained distractedly.

“Sure, but how does this help me?” Dom answered noncommittally.

“Well, this game might not be entirely real, but people are sure willing to spend a lot of very real money on it,” Adrian explained.  “It seems the other starting zones might be easier, but this place is still rough as hell for most folks.  Which might be why so many are willing to drop a lot of cash for decent gear,” Adrian finished, stopping on a single page.

Dom skimmed the prices, his jaw going slack.

$500 for an enchanted sword?

$1,000 for high-level armor?

These prices are insane…

Adrian just nodded at his reaction.  “Supply and demand, my man.  People want this stuff and there just isn’t enough of it right now.  Hell, they’ve even started selling in-game gold already, and there are conversion ratios to real-world currencies.  That shit fluctuates in real-time.”

He flipped to another page.  “People have even started hiring others to do their dirty work.  Help them farm.  Take out some PK’ers.  You know that crazy asshole necromancer that took out a whole city solo?  Jason or whatever?  He has a bounty on his head!  A crowdfunded one.  And the price just keeps going up as others add to it.  Although, it’ll probably be a cold day in hell before anyone manages to collect,” Adrian amended.

“Seriously, that guy’s class is unbalanced as shit.”  The Bard glanced at Dom.  “And this is after seeing you in action.”

Adrian shook his head, swiping back over to the market.  “Anyway, this might offer you a way to make some quick cash.  At least if we can get our hands on some items,” he finished.

Dom shook his head.  They were just collecting mats right now.  And even if the merchants in Aislen were willing to help, they’d likely be able to produce only a few items.  Dom would still need to cover things like rent and food as well, at least once he lost his scholarship.

He hesitated, watching the knowing smile drifting across Adrian’s face.

“Wait, you’re not talking about having the merchants craft this stuff, are you?” Dom asked.

Adrian’s smile widened.  “That’s one approach.  But that shit is pretty slow.  And you need some cash fast, right?  I bet you’re going to have other bills besides the treatment stuff,” the bard offered, anticipating Dom’s concern.  “But you heard what Sean said during that evil little rant.  We disrupted <The Jackals’> crafting operation.  And they’re outfitting hundreds of travelers at once.  You saw the gear those idiots were wearing, right?”

Adrian’s smile widened as he pulled up a screenshot of Tom hanging from a series of stone spikes.  “Like our good buddy Tom here.  What do you suppose his fancy armor is worth?”

Dom was nodding along now.  He’d even noted the location of the <The Jackals’> guild hall, although the foot traffic had dwindled since Dom and Adrian had begun supplying the local residents with crafting materials.

“You want to raid them, huh?”

“Oh, so very badly,” Adrian shot back with a gleam in his eye.  “Plus, I wouldn’t mind a little revenge for what that Sean guy did to us.”  Wingman clucked his approval at that, the sound almost a growl, which earned him a smile from the bard.

“Are you sure about this, though?” Dom asked.  “I mean, I’d be asking a lot.  You’re effectively talking about going to war with <The Jackals>.  And it’s not like you really stand to bene—”

“Stop,” Adrian interrupted, raising a hand.  “Look, you’ve helped me out more than you know.  You’ve had my back for weeks now.  You taught me how to survive out here.  Hell, you even replaced my baby with this badass new guitar,” Adrian said, patting the case slung across his back.  It seemed that it had been a good idea for Dom to spring for a soul bonded item.  That had likely prevented Sean and his guildmates from stealing it – one small blessing.

“So, it’s the least I can do.  We’re a team, aren’t we?” Adrian asked, offering a hand.

Dom just stared at that hand.  This wasn’t how he’d expected this to go.  Not at all.

But then again, he sure as hell hadn’t been expecting to lay his soul bare in a damn game…

Either way, Adrian was right.  They had been fighting side by side for weeks now.  Had trained together.  Worked together.  Died together.  They were a team.  A bond forged in blood and battle.  So, Dom accepted his grip.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone earnest.

Wingman didn’t want to be left out, so he added his wing to the pile, clucking his own agreement – which earned him smiles from both Dom and Adrian.

Although, Adrian’s smile wavered a moment later.  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t thank me quite yet.  My plan’s still a long shot.  And it’s only going to work if we get out of that damned cave first.  I’m pretty sure we’re trapped now,” Adrian muttered, his expression souring.  “The goblins will have almost certainly respawned by the time we zone back in.”

“That’s true,” Dom murmured.  Although, he cocked his head, remembering some of the odd behavior on the part of the greenskins.  He had a hunch that something unusual was going on there.  “But I think I might have a way to deal with that—" Dom began.

He was cut off as another voice spoke up, “Well, isn’t this magnificent!”

Dom whirled to find the Gambler had popped up behind the bar, laying an apron and a dirty rag on the countertop.  For the first time, Dom finally noticed that the dilapidated bar had been swept clean of cobwebs and dust and the wood now sparkled under fresh polish.  Clearly the god had been busy in his absence.

“Uh, who the hell are you?” Adrian grunted, staring at the Gambler.  “Also, have you been… hiding behind the bar that entire time?  That’s creepy.”

“I was… err, cleaning,” the god stumbled.  “And besides, I didn’t want to interrupt such a touching conversation,” the Gambler added dryly.

As he spoke, Oscar pulled himself up onto the counter.  The tiny rat used a nearby rag to dab at his eyes, shaking his head at Dom.  Then he blew his nose.  Hard.  Adrian was staring at the rat as though the entire world had just gone mad.

“Sure,” Dom replied, turning back to the god.  “And your sudden appearance doesn’t have anything to do with us talking about making money, right?”

“You wound me, sir,” the Gambler said in an unconvincing tone.  He cocked his head.  “Although, I did hear the glorious sound of money about to be made.  And look what I found!  Two fledgling entrepreneurs about to start their very own business,” the Gambler said with a small, proud smile, staring at Adrian’s screen hovering over top the bar and tapping his lips with his finger.  “This isn’t a bad plan, actually.  Not at all.”

“Uh, who the hell is this?” Adrian asked in confusion.  He glanced at the larger casino now, no longer distracted by his discussion with Dom.  “Actually, we never really covered where the fuck we are right now.”

“That’s kind of a long story,” Dom replied slowly, glancing at the Gambler and his pet rat.  “So, uh, this is like a pocket dimension… or something.  It’s where I go every time I die.  That chip I gave you earlier grants access.”

He gestured toward the Gambler.  “And this is the god of Happiness.”  Dom couldn’t quite remove the skepticism from his voice at the god’s title.

It also just so happened that a patron chose that moment to stagger against the nearby line of slot machines, heaving up the contents of his stomach violently.  Adrian’s gaze drifted back and forth between that scene and the Gambler murmuring to himself as he stared at the screen.  Meanwhile, Oscar heaved a sigh and grabbed his tiny bucket and mop before leaping off the counter to handle his clean-up duties.

“Uh-huh,” Adrian slowly replied as he watched a rat clean up puke.  “What a, uh, lovely establishment you have here.  So, are you like a down on your luck sort of god?  Like are we making a statement about how happiness is dead?  Because this place looks like it’s seen better days.  Like in the distant past.  Prehistoric even.”

The Gambler’s scowled at him, finally focusing his attention on the bard.  “It just needs a little elbow grease,” he bit out.

“Maybe like a hundred elbows and a swimming pool of bleach,” Adrian muttered in reply.

The god ground his teeth.  “Last time I checked, I actually had a business.  Unlike some washed-up minstrel,” he replied evenly, glaring at Adrian.

The bard seemed unperturbed.  “Business,” he echoed with air quotes.

“You little—”  The Gambler’s eyes blazed amber, but at a sharp squeak from Oscar, the god barely stopped himself, taking a deep breath through his nose.  “You are the change you wish to see in the world,” he murmured under his breath.  “Your anger doesn’t control you.”

“Is the God of Happiness in anger management?” Adrian whispered to Dom.

He just shrugged.  Nothing about this place made much sense to him.  The Gambler must have overhead the bard because his eyebrow twitched.  “I think it’s time for you to return to the game world,” the Gambler bit out, snapping his fingers.

The exit light above the front door lit up suddenly, and a stiff breeze began to blow through the casino, tugging at Dom and Adrian’s clothing.  “What the hell is this—” Adrian began, only for his words to get carried away by the wind… along with him.

Then the trio was flying backward, all failing limbs and fluttering feathers.  Adrian’s shouts of alarm suddenly overshadowed the ding and chime of the machines as they flew through the casino.  The doors snapped shut moments later, cutting off their screams and the casino once more returning to some semblance of normalcy.

The Gambler let out a sigh.  “Stupid travelers,” he muttered.

Then his anger melted away, replaced by a pleased smile, his eyes shining with amber energy.  He whistled a jaunty tune as he turned back to the bar, fishing out a glass and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.  The god poured himself a double as he snapped his fingers again, and the apparatus of his happiness engine sprang into existence.

He’d already felt it, but he just wanted to confirm.  That little encounter with the sadist in the cave had done wonders, as had Dom and Adrian’s heart-to-heart – the bard’s irritating personality aside.  The calculations had all shifted.  The odds had changed.  The number at the top was beginning to skyrocket, projecting out the changes that were coming.

The seeds of chaos he’d planted were just beginning to bloom.

And he couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

Chapter 26 - Diplomacy

Dom landed in a crouch as he re-entered the game world – accustomed to the abrupt transition by now.  Adrian, though?  Not so much.

Which likely wasn’t helped by the abrupt respawn.

The bard landed face first, letting out a grunt.  He lay there groaning for several long seconds before slowly shoving himself upright.  He held a hand to his nose to stem the bleeding while he muttered under his breath, “What the fuck was that?  You give a guy some helpful feedback, and he just shoves you out an extra-dimensional portal?”

Dom let out a soft snort of amusement.  “You get used to it,” he said, offering the bard a hand up.  Adrian took it grudgingly, rising back to his feet.  “The Gambler can be a little sensitive about his casino.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Adrian grumbled around his fingers.

Wingman let out a soft cluck, nudging Dom’s leg with his head.  He was still pawing at his eye – the scar tissue likely causing him discomfort.  Dom stooped, his brow furrowing.  Thinking quickly, he pulled off his novice tunic, ripping the fabric in strips to fashion a makeshift eyepatch.  He gingerly wrapped it around Wingman’s head.  The chicken squirmed for a moment but then seemed to calm as he realized what Dom was doing.

As he touched the chicken’s head, Dom couldn’t help but wonder how the injury had affected him.  He actually didn’t know much about Wingman at all – or what it meant for him to be treated as an in-game pet.  For example, did he have skills?  Stats?  Levels? He seemed to vaguely recall something about that when Wingman had imprinted on him…

Even as that thought crossed his mind, a blue notification suddenly appeared in the air.

Pet Character Status

Name:

Wingman

Gender:

Female

Level:

42

Class:

Race:

Battle Chicken

Alignment:

Hungry

Health:

2,705

H/Sec:

11.80

Stamina

2,155

S/Sec:

19.00

Str

120

Dex

160

Vit

125

End

130

Int

10

Will

10

Skills

Unlimited Growth

Gorge

Battle Squawk

Enhanced Sprint

Nip and Tuck

Enhanced Climbing

Gliding

Enhanced Swimming

Poison Resistance

Lightning Resistance

Bleeding Resistance

Strength Training

Endurance Training

Hardy

Dodge

Toughness

Iron Lungs

Begging

Status

Right Eye Destroyed

Dom’s eyes widened in surprise.  He hadn’t known the chicken had its own Character Status.  Not only that, but apparently, Wingman had benefited from Dom’s ridiculous training regimen – likely a product of following Dom and Adrian on their outings.

“What’s up?” Adrian asked, noticing Dom’s surprise.

“Uh, Wingman has a character status… and he’s actually female?”

Adrian glanced at Wingman.  “So, we should be calling him – err, or her – Wingwoman?”  The chicken let out an angry squawk at that, glaring at the bard.

Adrian quickly raised his hands.  “Shit, never mind.  Didn’t mean to offend.  I’ve just never met a gender-fluid chicken.”  Wingman let out a huff and ruffled her feathers.

Dom glanced back at the prompt.  It also appeared Wingman was allocating her own stat points.  Or perhaps the system was doing that for her?  Either way, she seemed to be following a similar pattern to Dom – focusing almost entirely on physical training.  The skills were also intriguing.  He recognized a few, but some of them were new.  Unfortunately, Dom couldn’t get the system to provide any additional information.  He was just going to have to figure them out by trial and error or wait until he found someone who could explain what each skill did.

He shook his head, swiping aside the notice.  At least Wingman was okay.

The chicken was eyeing the nearby rhino-triceratops corpse, the body still lying in the center of the cave where Sean and his guildies had left it – a few faint coils of smoke still peeling away from its body where lightning had singed it.  It seemed they hadn’t been gone that long.

“You can have it,” Dom said to Wingman, answering her unspoken question.

She let out a happy squawk before racing off in a blur of motion, burrowing happily into the beast’s side as she began devouring the massive creature.

“Uh, I hate to be that guy,” Adrian piped up, swiping at his UI with a grimace.  “But we still have a problem.  The goblins are almost definitely back now.”

Dom let out a sigh.  “Let’s see what we’re dealing with at least.”

The bard nodded, and the pair stepped back through the winding tunnel, sunlight soon streaming across the smoldering remains of the gate and into the cave.  The goblin fort lingered there – blocking their passage back to the mouth of the valley.  And at least a hundred green bodies now manned its walls.  And more of the goblins were milling outside the fort, repairing the barricade, and replacing what the travelers had stolen as they shored up their defenses once more.  Dom could only assume there were even more greenskins hidden behind the crude walls of the fort.

Adrian glanced at Dom.  “Maybe we can just run past it?”

Dom shook his head.  “Doubtful.  Not with their ranged weapons.”  He pointed at the mouth of the valley where dozens of the creatures lingered, likely picking over the bodies of the fallen.  “And not with them blocking the exit.  There are just too many.”

“Even for you?” Adrian snorted.

Dom hesitated for a moment.  “I could probably make it out, but what about you and Wingman?  If one of us dies, they’re going to return here to the cave.  I’m not cool with that.  Either we all get out, or no one does.”

“Uh-huh,” Adrian replied noncommittally.  “So, you said you had a plan?”

Dom let out a soft sigh.  “Yeah, actually.”  He started stretching his legs, his joints cracking.  “But I’m going to have to do this next part alone.”

“Didn’t you just say we all have to make it out?”

Dom nodded as he stepped toward the mouth of the cave, his silhouette suddenly coming into view.  A goblin along the ramparts noticed him, sending up a cry of alarm that echoed across the narrow basin.  Suddenly, the fort resembled an ant’s nest, green bodies pouring along its walls and reinforcing the entrance to the valley.  Based on how many Sean’s crew had killed, Dom’s guess was there were at least five hundred of the creatures in and around that fort.

“I did say that, yeah,” Dom acknowledged, shooting Adrian a faint grin over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m all ears,” the bard retorted, for once not talking.

“I’m going to walk over there and say hello,” Dom replied simply.

“What’re a few more deaths anyway?” he added under his breath.

Then Dom stepped out of the cave and began to walk toward the fort.

Leaving Adrian staring after him with his mouth open, slowly shaking his head as he watched a lone man walk toward an army, faced with guns and cannons now pointed at him.  Dom didn’t flinch.  He didn’t slow.  The man was a gods-damned beast – he’d seen him take that totally-a-triceratops head-on and barehanded – which left the bard unsure of what to expect here.

However, he was intrigued to see what happened.

And besides, what other options did they have?

***

Dom strode across the barren field outside the goblin fort, plain dirt broken only by the stumps of what might have once been massive trees.  Now there was nothing blocking line of sight between him and the goblins.  Nowhere to hide.  Nothing to block their projectiles – their makeshift guns and cannons already leveled at his position.

Someone inside the fort must have signaled the greenskins to fire.

Or maybe one of them just got overexcited and started blasting…

Regardless, the air soon vibrated with the detonation of their muskets and cannons – a concussive drumbeat, punctuated with the whistle of hundreds of incoming missiles.  Yet Dom didn’t flinch.  Didn’t dodge.  Didn’t try to run.  He just continued walking forward with slow, steady steps.  His luck was spiking now, reaching crazy levels.  But it wouldn’t be enough – not nearly enough.

A cannon ball blasted apart the dirt beside him, showering him in dust.  Missiles whistled past, creating puffs as they struck.  The goblins missed again and again.

Then a bullet ripped through Dom’s leg.

Then his arm.

Then his chest and stomach.

There was a hard limit to his luck.  It helped, but it wouldn’t be enough to allow him to make it to that fort.  Even the luckiest mouse stood no chance against a dragon.

That familiar image returned to him again.  A white-washed room.  A glowing screen.  That sharp, almost-burning, astringent smell.  His personal hell.  And yet, the memory was now mixed and muddled – twisting in his mind’s eye.  Suddenly, Adrian was staring with vacant eyes, blood leaking from his forehead.  Wingman was squirming in pain, impaled on Sean’s sword.  That same feeling of helplessness settled in his stomach.

And with it… that fucking question.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” Dom grunted, willing himself to walk despite the pain.

Of course, he wasn’t.  If he was okay, would he be here?

Walking into a firing line?  He pushed himself forward despite the way bullets tore through the muscles in his legs, his limbs beginning to falter and refuse his commands.  Dom dropped to his knees, watching as those missiles rained down upon him, punching through his body with little resistance.  Blood poured from the wounds, streaming down his body, and staining the dirt.  And still he forced himself to crawl forward.

Because he was done feeling helpless.  Done being unable to help himself or others.

Even if that meant he had to die again.  A thousand times more.

Which is why a grim smile pulled at his lips as he watched a cannonball whistle toward him – his face haggard and bloody.  He watched his death loom close.  Forced himself to keep his eyes open, taking a deep wheezing breath through ruined lungs.

This wasn’t the end.  He knew he’d come back.

And next time… next time he’d be stronger.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

***

Dom respawned only a few minutes later, landing with a soft thump back in the cavern.  Between the increased respawn timer in this cavern and Deathwish, he returned in about 5 minutes.

His eyes skimmed his UI, saying a silent prayer.

Ahh, there it is, he thought to himself in relief, tapping at the notice.

New Passive Skill:  Pierce Resistance

A hail of bullets might be enough to stop you now.  But masters of this skill have been known to wade through a battlefield without injury.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  -5% Pierce Damage

Perfect, Dom thought as he swept aside the notice.

Adrian stared at Dom skeptically from the entrance to the cavern.  “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that was sort of anti-climactic,” the bard offered weakly.  “You lasted maybe 30 seconds?  A minute tops?”

“It’s not over.”  Dom met Adrian’s eyes.  “Like you said back in the casino, I’m not the sort of person to give up easily.  And we have a goal now…”

Dom trailed off as he stepped past Adrian again and into that barren field that lay before the goblin fort.  The goblins had already gone back to fortifying their base – likely expecting Dom to be a straggler or to give up after being blasted apart.

Jokes on them then…

Adrian could only shake his head as he watched Dom stride back out into that field, the dust still settling from his last death and his blood already splattered across the dirt.  Another cry went up from the goblin fort, the others looking up in surprise before rushing back into position and leveling their weapons at him once again.

The bard could only look dumfounded as he watched Dom get ripped apart in another barrage of musket and cannon fire, the man not hesitating for a second.  He could see what Dom was trying to do now, the realization sweeping over him and leaving him stunned.

Adrian had certainly seen Dom do some crazy shit during their time together.  He’d watched him let the deathhoppers slice him apart.  Watched him purposefully poison himself — his back arching as his nervous system gave a last gasp.  Helped him face down an army of monsters solo while dying over and over again.  Stood on the shoreline as he leaped into monster-infested waters until a red plume of blood drifted up from the depths.  Plumbed the caverns that riddled these islands.  Swung fearlessly through the trees, even after he’d fallen dozens of times, crushing his legs and spine too many times to count.

But this?  This was pure madness.

Dom was fucking training!  This time, against an entire army.  All in an effort to boost his stats.  To increase his skills.  To break himself down and rebuild his body with each explosion of crimson blood and rift of multi-colored energy.  Until he was stronger, faster, more resilient.  Until he could stride up to those walls and knock on those damn gates.

Dom had looked surprised when Adrian had offered to help him raise money and insisted they were a team.  And he’d questioned why he was doing it.  But honestly?  Adrian had simply never met anyone like him.  Someone so fearless.  So dedicated and disciplined.

Or so completely, batshit insane.

It made Adrian want to try to keep up and push himself harder.  Watching Dom spit in the face of his own death dozens – hundreds – of times.  He refused to acknowledge his limits, and, frankly, Adrian wished he could do the same.  Maybe he wasn’t dying back in the real world – at least, not yet.  But he’d already given up on his dreams.  Thrown up his hands.  Made an endless list of excuses to rationalize his defeat.

But maybe, just maybe, Dom was onto something.

Perhaps Adrian could follow in his footsteps.  Tilt at that motherfucking windmill until it was riddled with holes and collapsed in on itself.

As he saw Dom’s body get ripped apart once more, his blood misting into the air and the gunfire beginning to slow, Adrian decided he should be doing more than just sitting there watching his friend get stronger.  He should be doing his own training.

He pulled the guitar case from his back, lifting out his instrument gingerly, his fingers strumming softly across the strings.  Adrian had been toying with a few ideas for how to improve his songs – especially after Wingman had boosted his War Chant.  And the chords for new melodies had been drifting through his mind lately – some “Adrian originals.”

So, when Dom respawned in a flash of multi-colored energy, waved at Adrian, and marched off to his death – hellbent on repeating that process again and again – Adrian settled against a boulder, thumbed the switch at the base of the guitar, and began to play…

***

Truggle stood upon the walls of his fort, his people standing around him.  They stared off in the direction of the cavern, the sun slowly stretching down toward the horizon and casting long shadows across the valley.  Their green hands clutched at crude muskets and pistols, a few goblins spawning back in a flash of multi-colored light – casualties of their own guns and cannons.

Truggle couldn’t help but notice the strange look in their eyes.

It took a lot to phase the goblins.

They were a resilient race, accustomed to hardship – to toil and death.

And it had only gotten worse once the travelers had entered this world.  They attacked their camps over and over again – almost like clockwork, arriving every few days to cut down Truggle and his people, stealing their supplies and weapons.  He’d died dozens of times since then, as had his brothers in arms.  Their blood and bodies had fertilized the jungle.

But this was different.  This traveler was different.

He was a massive man, towering above most of the greenskins and even Truggle himself.  His skin was riddled with scars until it was thick as leather.  He moved with an easy grace that spoke of incredible strength – like the panthers that prowled the jungle, all rippling muscle and deadly intent.  Truggle had no doubt that if this human reached their walls, he would rip his people apart with his bare hands, which had his brothers and sisters clutching their weapons as they saw that man stride out of that cavern once again.

They promptly blasted him with cannon fire and musket shot, everyone along the walls adding their guns to the fray.  The once-flat area around the cavern had been blown apart, creating deep craters in the dirt until it looked like a warzone – as though two armies had bombarded the ground with artillery fire and then slammed into one another.

Yet this was an impossible battle against a single human, who just kept coming back.

Again.  And again.  And again.

Truggle had long ago lost count of how many times they’d killed him – he didn’t have that many fingers… or toes.  Maybe one of the crafter goblins could still keep count, but he had no such luck.  Truggle hadn’t been blessed by the gods with intellect, only brute strength.

As the sunlight began to wane and twilight settled across the jungle, Truggle could hear a rousing chorus that echoed from the depths of the cavern.  A constant song that spoke of war and battle.  He’d sent some scouts to check on the cave after that strange man died, but they’d never returned.  When they’d respawned, they could only frantically mutter strange explanations with panicked words – something about a chicken and being eaten alive in a flurry of beak and feathers.

Truggle flinched as he saw that massive human step out of the cavern once again.  Only mere minutes after he’d been blown apart.  That man seemed to come back faster and faster each time they killed him.  Unperturbed by his violent death and walking calmly across that field once again.  And as he watched the man, an unfamiliar feeling welled in Truggle’s chest.  He didn’t have a name for it – this bizarre emotion.  Yet, he had a vague memory of experiencing it once before.  Part of some distant past that seemed more dream than reality.

The goblins unleashed their barrage again, the air vibrating with each concussive blast and thick clouds of black power drifting out across the wall.  Yet as the dust settled this time, Truggle felt his heart skip a beat, that strange emotion growing stronger and more insistent.

The man was still standing upon the broken ground – wounded but alive.  And as Truggle looked on, the stranger took another step, plodding forward toward the fort.

Just who was this human?

And what did he want?

***

Dom grimaced as he felt a dull ache radiating through his limbs.

He’d survived that last blast, even without dodging.  It had been an experiment after dying countless times.  His guess was that he’d already respawned a few hundred times, although he’d long since given up keeping track of his deaths.  And he’d used those lives – those opportunities – to train, alternating between letting the bullets cut through his limbs and trying to dodge the projectiles.  With that training came stat and skill increases.

Stat Increases:

+25 Dexterity

+37 Vitality

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Toughness

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 8

Effect 1:  -9.5% damage and pain.

Effect 2:  Reduced fatigue duration by 17%.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Iron Skin

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 8

Effect 1:  +896 Armor.

Effect 2:  +12% Increased Total Armor.

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Hardy

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  +12% Vitality.

Effect 2:  +14% Health Regeneration

x15 Skill Rank Up:  Pierce Resistance

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 6

Effect 1:  -12.50% Pierce Damage.

Effect 2:  +3 Missile Shield Stacks.  Each stack prevents up to 200 missile damage.  60 second cooldown to reset each stack.

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Dodge

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 6

Effect 1:  8.50% increased speed and reflexes when avoiding attacks.

Effect 2:  2% increased Dexterity.

He swept those notifications aside, assessing his injuries as he faced down the fort.  His shoulder was dislocated – likely a cannonball.  His IT band was torn, forcing him to limp forward using his good leg.  The bones in his hand were crushed.  Yet his health regeneration was swiftly repairing those injuries, knitting the muscle and skin back together, and his bones fusing and shifting back into position with a heavy, dull clunk.

Meanwhile, Dom never stopped moving forward at that same slow, ponderous pace.

Even as he saw the goblins raise their guns again – watched them reload their cannons frantically as shouts of alarm drifted up and over the walls.  He looked on as they stared at him with those glowing yellow eyes.  Their hate and contempt seemed to slowly fade with each death and resurrection, his luck multiplier steadily dropping every time he returned until it had almost struck zero.

Only to be replaced with something different.

“Looks like it’s time to finally say hello,” Dom murmured to himself, pulling up his chat log and typing out a quick message to Adrian.

Moments later, a song drifted up and out of the cavern to his back changed, the sound easily carrying across the narrow valley thanks to the cave’s natural acoustics and Wingman’s piercing voice joining in the chorus.

However, this song was different than War Chant.  The tempo was faster.  A rapid thump, thump, thump that had Dom’s heart speed up to compensate.  It felt like fire was pouring through his veins, as though the bard had just injected him with some sort of synthetic adrenaline.

System Notice:  Traveler Buff

Adrian has begun playing Battle March, his song increasing his allies’ speed.  One of your group members has added their voice to the song, amplifying its power.  Current song multiplier: x1.5.  While the song is playing, all group members within earshot will receive the following effects:

- +15% Movement Speed

- +2 Ranks to Dodge

- +50% Stamina Drain

Dom swept aside that notice, a grin tugging at his lips as he looked back at the fort – at the dozens of guns and cannons pointed in his direction.  Now that was interesting.  Adrian had been busy as well.  And Wingman must have finished her latest snack.

He cracked his neck, testing his legs to find that his IT band had been repaired.

With that buff and sprint, he should have close to a +30% movement speed increase.  And the additional ranks of Dodge would further enhance his speed while he was under attack.  He should also have about 22% damage reduction between Toughness and Pierce Resistance.  With his health regeneration now sitting at 34.71 per second, it was more than enough to repair any chip damage so long as he didn’t take a blow directly to a vital organ or limb.

“Now, let’s test this out,” Dom muttered.

This time, as the goblins prepared to launch their next barrage, Dom didn’t just keep walking.  Instead, he dropped into a crouch, waiting patiently.  He’d undergone this hundreds of times now and had become familiar with the timing between each blast.

The guns and cannons had seemed unfair at first, but they had limitations.

First, the goblins didn’t seem to have any magic.  So, he only needed to worry about the missiles.  The guns and cannons also had to be reloaded, which took precious time.  The goblins didn’t have the coordination to stagger their fire in any sort of pattern.  Finally, there was a significant chance of misfires, many of the muskets and cannons exploding on detonation – which blasted apart groups of goblins and sowed disorder among their ranks.

As he saw the goblins begin to fire, Dom realized he had another advantage – one that had only become obvious now that he had ranked up his abilities and was taking advantage of Adrian’s buff.  The missiles seemed slower now, gliding through the air.  Once fired, they only traveled in a straight arc, which made them easy to dodge.

At least, if you were fast enough…

Dom was going to see if that was the case now.

He took off from the ground in a blur of motion as he activated Sprint.  He shot forward, leaving behind a cloud of dust in his wake.  He raced across the ground while missiles whistled around him, moving faster than he’d expected.  He weaved and dodged, consuming a few stacks of his Missile Shield as he closed in on the goblins along the walls.  Yet it wasn’t quite enough to blunt every bullet – especially now that his luck multiplier had dropped.

Dom felt a bullet punch through his shoulder.  Then his obliques, twisting him off balance for a few precious seconds.  However, Dom recovered a moment later and continued his headlong dash, letting his health regeneration repair those flesh wounds.  After a few breaths, they barely hurt, only a dull ache indicating that he’d been struck.

The greenskins were growing more frantic, their shouts filling the air above the fort as they feverishly attempted to reload.  Another half-hearted barrage filled the air as they fired haphazardly, the shots going wide.  The blasts were punctuated with explosions as a couple of the cannons misfired, sowing more disorder among the goblins’ ranks.

And for the first time, Dom saw the gates to the fort creak open.  Hundreds of goblins poured out of that opening, racing toward him.  They were loaded down with scrap weapons and armor, and many were barely clothed – hardly a threat.

As he closed, Dom activated Bull Rush and charged directly into the flood of goblins.  He wasn’t trying to kill them.  He was trying to incapacitate them and make it inside the fort.  He barreled through their ranks, their smaller bodies offering little resistance and sending some of the smaller creatures flying and toppling those behind them.

He’d created a small pocket amid the horde, and Dom used it.  He crouched again and leaped, flying into the air and just barely grabbing onto the lip of the wall.  He pulled himself up, his feet soon landing on the wooden ramparts.

Goblins rushed at him, but Dom raised his hands, “Hey, I just want to talk!” he tried.

The greenskins ignored him, screaming at the tops of their lungs as they stabbed him with crude swords and knives.  Though, the weapons only barely cut into his skin.  They stared in shock as they saw their attacks weren’t terribly effective.  However, they still hurt.  The burning points of pain forced a frustrated growl from Dom’s lips.

“Damn it,” he grunted.  “Stop stabbing me!”

Yet the goblins just cut at him with renewed fury.  Dom grabbed a goblin’s wrist, feeling the crunch of bone as he tightened his grip.  He picked the smaller creature up and used him like a club to knock several of his companions off the ramparts.  The goblins landed in the dirt below with a thud, even as dozens of others rushed him.

“Seriously, I know you all can talk!” Dom shouted.  But they continued to ignore him.

Fine, Dom thought.  If they won’t talk willingly.  I’ll make them listen to me.

Dom dropped down from the walls, and a large goblin knocked him off-balance in midair, sending him hurtling into a nearby hut.  The wood crunched from the impact and began to collapse, but Dom rolled out of the way as the timbers slammed to the ground.

“Gods damn it,” he growled, pushing himself upright.

A wooden beam was still embedded in the ground, roughly five feet long and more than a foot in diameter.  His hands wrapped around the wood, and he ripped it from the dirt, sending up a shower of dust.  Then he faced off against the horde around him, goblins swarming among their huts and clamoring overtop the buildings.  More than a few fired blindly into the crowd, often hitting their teammates rather than Dom.

He was going to have to make some space.

So, Dom lifted the beam and swung, smashing half a dozen of the creatures into a nearby building that slowly began to topple.  Smoke coiled up from the wood.  It must have crashed into a campfire.  The blaze soon stretched across the aged and dry timber, creating stark, flickering shadows in the waning twilight.

He just kept swinging, slowly plodding his way toward the center of town.  He crushed goblins until their yellow blood ran across the dirt.  One jumped on his back, and Dom flung him off, stomping his head flat with one foot.  He must have killed dozens – only for flashes of multi-colored light to flicker along the edges of the camp as they respawned minutes later.  An endless green horde that cut and scampered and clamored toward him.

Dom wasn’t quite certain how long he fought the goblins, but he eventually found himself standing in the center of the fort.  A massive fire pit had been constructed there, the spit empty and the fire merely dull embers.  Around him were the battered bodies of dozens, possibly hundreds, of goblins muddy yellow rivers now winding through the camp.  Buildings were ablaze with flame, the fires spreading unimpeded through the village.

And suddenly… there was a pause.

Dom stood there.  Alone.  Bare-chested and wielding a crude wooden club stained with the greenskins’ blood, the wood dented and cracked.

They hesitated now.  Eyed him with a sudden caution – a new emotion flickering in those glowing yellow eyes.

Finally, he had their attention.  So, Dom acted quickly, activating his Challenging Roar even as he spoke aloud, “BRING ME YOUR GODS DAMNED LEADER!”

The goblins all stood there frozen, stunned by his shout, weapons hanging from limp hands.  They watched him, chests heaving and bloodstained – their own and the blood of others.  And still, Dom saw no fear reflected in their gaze.

It was something… different.  Something he couldn’t quite understand.

Either way, it seemed his constant assault on the camp for the last few hours and this grueling bloody gauntlet had made an impression.

Finally, the crowd parted, and a larger monster paced between their ranks.  Dom watched passively as it strode forward.  The beast was still humanoid – its skin a muddled green like the others.  But it towered over its smaller cousins, almost as tall as Dom.  Its limbs were thick, covered in bulging muscle and scars.  It easily carried a massive, crude great axe in one hand, the metal chipped and pockmarked and covered in rust.  In some ways, it almost resembled Dom.

“Are you the leader?” Dom ground out.

The monster cocked his head, his amber eyes cautious, its brow furrowed in confusion.  It raised a hand to the others, their chatter quieting as they backed away.  “I am,” the creature grunted finally.  “My name Truggle.  I village Badass.”

Good.  I knew they could talk.  But village “Badass?”  Is that like their chief?

“Finally,” Dom muttered, shaking his head.  “I just want to talk.”

The creature glared back.  “We not talk to hoomans – much less travelers.  Your kind kill us many times.  Only battle and blood.”

Dom’s eyes widened.  So, he’d been right then.  They did remember their deaths.  That was the only way to explain those signs at the entrance to the valley – the ones where they’d creatively tortured and killed a cartoon version of Sean.  That also meant they would remember him, that the goblins Dom had killed would come back.

But it seemed they only acknowledged strength.

That was fine.

“Fine.  Then let’s fight,” Dom growled back.  “You win, I leave your people alone.  I win, and you fucking listen to me.  I have to say I’m running out of gods damned patience.”

Truggle considered this, his eyes flickering to the other, smaller goblins that surrounded them and the flames ravaging their fort at their backs.  Then he nodded, grunting and stepping forward as he hefted his axe.

For his part, Dom watched the goblins – the way they stared at him with wide eyes.  He could see Truggle’s simple reasoning.  He had no choice but to accept Dom’s challenge now that he’d issued it in front of the whole village.  The way they looked at him was disconcerting.  They were eager… almost excited.  Was that respect shining in their eyes?

Might as well put on a show then…

At that thought, Dom dropped his log, freeing up his hands.  Truggle watched him, making no move to abandon his axe.  “You fight without weapon?”

“Don’t need it,” Dom ground out.

The huge goblin grinned back at him, revealing rows of sharps teeth.  “We see.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Truggle swept forward quickly, his axe a blur of motion.  He likely expected Dom to back off.  To dodge out of the way and allow Truggle to follow up with another quick strike.  With the way he swung that massive axe so easily, he certainly had the strength to accomplish that goal.

But Dom had a different idea.

He wanted to end this quickly.  It had been a long damn day.

So, he stepped into the blow.  Felt the axe bite into his left arm, cutting through the skin, the muscle, and then the bone.  He could feel the blade cut straight through his arm, its momentum blunted enough that it only barely scratched his ribcage.  Truggle’s eyes widened as Dom’s arm dropped to the ground with a dull thump… looking up just in time to see Dom’s fist barreling straight toward his face as he activated Bull Rush again.

He blinked once, then Dom’s fist connected.

The goblin chief was blown off his feet and sent crashing through the ranks of the goblins who scattered in every direction.  A few of Truggle’s smaller cousins were crushed under his weight as he slammed back into a nearby building.  The structure trembled precariously, then began to collapse as the wood cracked and splintered.  It toppled to the ground, a billowing cloud of dust rocketing away from the crude structure.

Dom just paced toward Truggle, keeping his face perfectly neutral since he had so many eyes on him.  Blood was leaking from his shoulder like a river.  However, his bleeding resistance and health regeneration would take care of that problem shortly.  He was just as surprised as the other goblins who stared open-mouthed.  He’d punched Truggle as hard as he could.  Which, apparently, was a little overkill now.  His training had certainly been paying off.  Although, he had technically grappled with the rhino-triceratops too…

Truggle lay among the remains of the debris, amber blood staining the wood – although it looked like most of it had come from the other goblins.  Even so, his body was covered in gashes and cuts.  His right shoulder looked dislocated.  But he was alive… barely.  And conscious, blinking one good eye at Dom blearily – the other bruised and filled with blood.  His cheekbone was cracked, and his nose broken from where Dom had punched him.

“You win,” he managed.  “Kill me.”

Dom just stared down at him for a long moment before his gaze pivoted to the goblins around him.  The horde stared with wide eyes, and an eerie silence had finally descended upon the valley after hours and hours of fighting.  They looked tired.  Haggard.  As did Truggle.  Probably why he’d gone down in just one punch – Dom had been waging a battle of attrition.

And he’d won.

Dom looked back to Truggle, a trace of despair lingering in the goblin’s eyes.  Defeat.  Yet he still held Dom’s gaze, refusing to look away.  That spoke of pride.  Strength.  Dom could appreciate that.  How long these little green fuckers had held out.  Anyone else would likely have given up hours ago.  Anyone but Dom, that is.

He reached forward toward Truggle.  The goblin flinched but refused to look away, likely expecting Dom to finish him off, to pound him into the dirt and turn his bones to dust.

Yet that killing blow never came.

Instead, Truggle looked down at Dom’s open hand.  “Nah,” Dom said finally.  “I’m tired of fighting.  And like I said, I just want to talk.”

The goblin leader looked back and forth between Dom’s hand and his eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion.  Then he glanced at his smaller companions, the goblin horde waiting – watching.  Truggle heaved a sigh and then reached forward with his good arm, accepting Dom’s grip.  Dom hauled him back to his feet, the goblin chief wobbling unsteadily.

“Our deal,” Dom reminded him with a growl.

Truggle blinked his good eye, looking out at his people.  “War… over.  We accept traveler into camp,” he shouted, his voice hoarse.  He glanced at Dom, taking in his hulking form and scars.  “He more goblin than hooman anywayz.”

The goblins all hesitated for a long moment.  Dom was expecting cheers.  Or some sort of praise.  Or, well, something.  However, seconds later, the goblins all dropped their weapons and collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, many with tears leaking from their eyes.  They huddled together, trembling.  Others looked like they had simply passed out.

It wasn’t the sort of joyous acceptance Dom might have preferred.  But he’d take it.

A small grin pulled at his lips.

It looked like he’d just conquered the goblin camp.

Chapter 27 - Collective Bargaining

Dom spawned back into the casino, landing softly on his feet.  Adrian and Wingman appeared behind him, stumbling out of their own rifts of multi-colored energy.  The sounds of the casino washed over them – the ding and chime of the machines, the low buzz of conversation, and the occasional cry of joy or despair ringing through the air.

The Gambler looked up from a nearby table – its chairs empty, and Oscar perched atop its surface, gnawing on a hunk of cheese.  “Ahh, just the trio I was looking…”

He trailed off as he noticed Dom’s and Adrian’s grim expressions.

Or maybe it was the dozens of rifts forming behind the trio.  Multi-colored tears formed in the air over and over again until the area near the entrance to the casino was awash in rainbow light.  The sight was distracting enough that even the zombie-like patrons briefly looked up from their slots and cards, only to return to their mindless activities moments later.

As those kaleidoscopic lights faded, they were replaced with green bodies, skin riddled with scars and thick as leather.  Amber eyes glared out from behind bushy eyebrows and above misshapen noses.  Hands clutched around crude axes, swords, spears, and knives.  A miniature army with a sole focus – the target of their simmering anger watching with wide eyes beneath the brim of his usual green visor.

Truggle stepped up beside Dom.  “’Ello again, Fuckhead,” he grunted.

The Gambler stared at the goblin in confusion for several long seconds before realization swept across his face.  “Wait… Truggle?”  The goblin nodded.  “Uh, you’re um, looking good, I guess.  You do something with your hair?  Maybe switch up your skincare routine?”

“No,” the massive goblin shot back in a growl.

The Gambler’s eyes darted to Dom.  “I take it you’re responsible for bringing this lot here?  How’d you manage—”

The god was cut off as Dom dumped a sack on the table, golden chips spilling out of the leather and onto the felt – dozens of tokens contained within.  “You told me how to bring people here, remember?  And the goblins were only too happy to let me kill them to collect a few spare chips.  Especially if it meant visiting an old friend.”

Although, from the way many of the goblins were growling at the god, they didn’t seem terribly friendly.  Truggle was forced to physically hold them back.

“Ahem,” the Gambler cleared his throat, recovering from his surprise quickly.  “Well, I like a good loophole as much as any other guy.  Why don’t you take a seat so we can catch up?” he offered to Dom’s group.  His eyes skimmed to the other goblins, wincing slightly.  “As for the rest of you, there’s a bar in the back.  Just try to be—”

He cut himself short as Truggle slammed a dagger down into the middle of the table.

“—and by that, I mean help yourselves!” the Gambler finished.  “Even if you alcoholic assholes drive me out of business,” he added under his breath.

The horde just glared at the man and threw a few obscene gestures his way as they marched past.  Meanwhile, Dom, Adrian, and Truggle took up positions around the table, with Wingman lying on the ground beside them.  He’d grown after eating the rhino-triceratops and no longer fit in Dom’s lap.  The Gambler watched the group cautiously, clearly caught off guard.  Even Oscar looked surprised, perched upon the green felt and glancing back and forth between the goblins and the god, cheese clutched between his paws.

“So, Truggle and I have been having a little chat,” Dom began, gesturing at the burly goblin – hobgoblin, technically.  Truggle had made sure to clarify that point.  “And he told me a rather interesting story – one that involves you, actually.”

“Ahh, ahem,” the Gambler coughed into his sleeve.  “Yes, we used to be… business colleagues, I guess you could say.”

Truggle’s fist slammed into the table, the wood cracking and sending Oscar and his cheese flying.  The rat snatched a machine with his tail, whipping himself up onto a nearby machine but couldn’t save his snack.  He stared forlornly at yellow goop now smeared against the table’s felt.

“As I understand it, it was more of an employer-employee relationship,” Dom retorted, feeling anger simmering in his veins.  “In fact, these were your people, weren’t they?  The air affinity race?  Just like those undead that Jason brought back.”

“I guess that’s technically true,” the Gambler murmured.

“And you abandoned them to die?!” Adrian demanded, his voice rising.  A few of the nearby patrons looked up at that – only to quickly return to their games.

“The situation was a bit more nuanced—”

“You dropz us in green hell and runz away,” Truggle growled.

“Look,” the Gambler said, lifting his visor and rubbing at his eyes, “I didn’t want to ditch you all.  I just didn’t have a choice.  I guess you could say my boss was closing this branch.”

“Your boss?” Dom offered with a frown.

“You’re supposed to be a god,” Adrian added.  “How the hell do you have a boss?”

“That’s a good question,” the Gambler grumbled.  He let out a sigh.  “Okay, so I really just manage this little slice of digital paradise.  I can’t just do whatever I want.  I guess you could view me as something like a franchisee.  I still take orders from corporate, so-to-speak.”

The god turned back to Truggle, wincing at the anger in his eyes.  “So, I didn’t have a choice.  The franchise was going under – as were the branches run by my siblings.  Something about some ‘woke ass’ humans complaining and boycotting our operations. We were being canceled, but you know, the old-fashioned way.  With pitchforks and Fireballs.  I didn’t know when we’d be able to go back to normal or even if we would be able to recover.  So, well, I had to let some people go.”

Truggle slammed his fist against the table again.  “You not have to.”

“Yes, yes I did,” the Gambler insisted, his eyes flashing in irritation.  “Do you know how much you lot cost to keep up?  Just your compensation alone was crazy.  And that’s not even getting into the other overhead.”

He waved at the air, and a spreadsheet popped into existence nearby, purportedly listing the goblins’ expenses.  “Collateral damage to property.  Repairs and maintenance.  Outfitting and armament.  Employee benefits like health care and your 401(k).  I mean, the costs are staggering.  The best I could do was let you go and hope I could turn the operation around later.”

Dom shook his head, glancing at Adrian.  Even the bard looked confused.  This wasn’t quite what they’d expected after speaking with Truggle.

“And I mean, it looks like things turned out well!” the Gambler continued, waving at Truggle.  “I didn’t want to choose the jungle.  But it was relatively unpopulated.  You weren’t at risk of the humans driving you to extinction or hunting you down there, certainly.  Hell, the residents of Aislen basically just holed up in their city after everything collapsed.  There are what?  Five generations that have been born in that city since then, and they’ve never left!”

“Jungle iz death,” Truggle ground out, quite literally grinding his teeth.  “We forzed to bind to dungeon for respawnz.  We diez again and again.  Now hunted by hooman travelerz.  No foodz.  No lootz.  Destroy fort over and over.  Look at meez.  Wherez my wingz now?” he demanded, gesturing at himself.

The Gambler’s winced at that.  Even Dom and Adrian had been surprised when Truggle finally explained what was going on.

To summarize, when their god ditched them roughly a century ago, his people hadn’t done so well in the jungle.  They didn’t have a base or foothold like the residents of Aislen, and surviving in the jungle could be… rough.  So, they had come up with a rather interesting solution.  The goblins had discovered dungeons scattered throughout the mountain islands, each with its own respawn zone.  After gently “displacing” the former occupants, they’d discovered they could bind themselves to those zones and take them over.  This granted them a sort of pseudo immortality – mimicking the way the travelers respawned.  It had also allowed them to at least hunt in the jungle and gather food and supplies without fear.

Unfortunately, there had been a few unusual side effects to their new strategy.  For example, each of the goblins had stopped aging.  They also discovered they were suddenly infertile – which meant their population was now static, their people spread out across the many dungeons that dotted the jungle.

However, perhaps the most significant change was to their appearance.  If Truggle was to be believed, they had once had pale, smooth skin, elfin features, and majestic translucent wings – none of which had survived long in that harsh environment.  Dying over and over had gradually transformed their bodies.  Their skin had thickened and turned green as a result of many, many injuries and exposure to the abundant number of poisons and venoms present in the jungle.  They also retained their memories after they died – which went a long way toward explaining the signs Dom and Adrian had seen outside the valley.  However, that also meant that each goblin had died tens of thousands of times over the last century or so.

And they’d gone rather mad as a result.  That was partly why they were so fearless now.  So willing to blow each other up.  Or, in the case of <The Jackals> raid, why they just went ahead and ran into Sean’s force like lemmings – only putting up a token resistance.  It was actually easier for them to die and respawn than it was to bother fighting.  They’d even taken to burying and hiding their more valuable weapons and resources ahead of the raids, offering the players just enough that they wouldn’t become suspicious.

It was a surprisingly clever solution to their predicament.

The gambler rubbed at his chin.  “Huh, well, isn’t that interesting.”  His eyes shot back to Truggle.  “In that case, maybe you should be thanking me!”

The group just stared at him for a long moment before Truggle lunged across the table, a knife in hand.  Dom just barely held him back, the hobgoblin’s chair creaking as his weight settled back upon it.

“How do you figure?” Adrian demanded.  “You basically left your own people to die – which they have – over and over and over again until they transformed and went insane.”

The Gambler raised a finger.  “But they survived!  That’s a fantastic outcome.  Technically speaking, the other five affinity races all died out after things went to shit.  But my people?  What did they do?  They hustled!  Lifted themselves up by their bootstraps, you know.  Maybe the layoffs were a good thing.  Sounds like it really lit a fire under their asses.”

“You know that expression makes no sense, right?  It’s literally impossible…” Adrian grumbled, rubbing at his temple.

The Gambler just ignored him, tapping at his lips wistfully.  “Really, when you think about it, this just proves that capitalism is a wonderful system.  It gets results.”

The trio stared back at him with dumbfounded expressions.

Even Wingman let out a skeptical cluck.

“Except how did any of this promote happiness?” Dom finally asked.

“Well, they can’t be happy if they’re dead,” the Gambler answered dryly.

Also technically true, Dom supposed.

“And besides, my mandate from corporate isn’t to maximize an individual’s happiness – or even a group.  It’s to maximize total happiness.  It’s really more about trends…”

Truggle let out a low, menacing growl at that.

The Gambler quickly raised his hands.  “Look, I know it’s been tough for you lot.  But it sounds like everything worked out.  And now that I’m getting this place up and running again, I’m sure I can find a place for you.  Maybe on similar terms—”

“No,” Dom interrupted.

The Gambler glanced at him in surprise.  “What do you mean, no?”

Dom just waved at Adrian.

The bard cleared his throat.  “In your absence, the goblins were forced to adopt a different economic model.  Resources were scarce, and they were facing some tough decisions,” he explained.  “So, they gave up their worldly possessions.  They now share everything equally.  They make decisions by community vote – appointing a representative to lead them for a few years at a time.  I guess you could say the goblins have unionized.”

“But that’s… that’s…” the Gambler stumbled, eyes wide in horror.

“Socialism?” Adrian offered.  “Yeah, go fucking figure after their boss laid them off by abandoning them in a wasteland without a word of explanation.”

“And now they’ve appointed me to negotiate on their behalf,” Dom added.

The Gambler stared at the group for a long moment, rubbing at his temple.  “Okay.  Fine.  I assume you have…” He trailed off as Adrian tapped at his UI, and a screen soon popped into existence, rotating toward the Gambler.

“We’ve come up with a proposal – one we think would be mutually beneficial to both parties – the goblins and your… well, whatever the hell this place is,” Dom continued, waving at the casino around them.  “Specifically, the goblins wish to bind themselves to the casino – just as you’ve done to me and Adrian.  This should free them from using the dungeons to ensure their survival without losing their immortality.”

“Why the hell should I agree to that?” the Gambler demanded with a frown.  “Do you have any idea how much mana it takes to maintain that connection?  Of course, you don’t!  It’s a shitload.  That’s not hyperbole, that’s actually what the prompt says.  ‘One shitload per person.’” he muttered, waving at the air.

“Which is why we’re not asking for the help for free,” Dom easily answered, leaning forward and holding the Gambler’s gaze.  “Let’s be clear here.  Your casino is struggling.  This place is a shithole.  You need customers to create and exchange your chips – which I can only assume represent the air mana that you’re collecting?” the Gambler gave a grudging nod.

“So, you’ve got a few problems.  You need someone to help you collect mana.  You also need workers to man this place – repair your machines, clean it up, and work the tables.  The goblins can do that for you.  And if they can rebind their respawn point to this place, they won’t be tethered to the dungeons anymore.  They can move freely throughout the game world – allowing them to collect more mana for you.  Complete quests.  Fulfill bounty contracts.  Bring in a mountain of fresh chips,” Dom said, dropping a few coins on the table with a rattle of metal.

“And in return, you can dole out the chips for completion of those quests to keep currency in the pool.  I suspect Adrian and I will also be fulfilling more than our share of bounty contracts in the future, and we deserve to share in that mana.  Or hand them out to the goblins on respawn.  Whatever – I’ll leave the details to you.  Just think of yourself as a reserve bank of Happiness.  We help print the money, and you dole it back out.”

The gambler just stared at that coin, his brow furrowed and a frown on his lips as he listened to their proposal.  Dom was savoring this moment more than he cared to admit.  Maybe it was getting hustled within the first few minutes of starting this damn game.  And then again when he’d finally entered the game world.  Or possibly it was getting dropped in the worst possible starting location.  Or respawning upside down for the last few weeks in-game.

Honestly, it was probably all of the above.

Regardless, Dom was tired of just lying down and letting the universe shit on him.

It was time to take his fate into his own hands.  And that started here.

“Okay,” the Gambler began slowly.  “I can see some merit to your plan.  In terms of management…”  Dom raised a hand, and the god let out a frustrated snort.  “Oh, great, you’ve thought of that too, I see,” he grumbled.

Dom nodded.  “The goblins won’t be employees.  Think of them more as independent contractors.  They’re going to maintain their union, and you’ll have to negotiate with their leadership.  Collective bargaining, I suppose you could call it.  Just to keep you honest.  Make sure working conditions stay reasonable and they’re well compensated.  Each party here would benefit but maintain some autonomy.”

“I would never take advantage…,” the Gambler began, trailing off as he saw everyone on the other side of the table glaring at him.  “Fine.”  He glanced at Truggle.  “And your people are okay with this then?  These terms?”

The hobgoblin just nodded.

Dom extended a hand, a grin pulling at his lips.  “So, do we have a deal?”

The Gambler frowned but grudgingly accepted his grip.  “Yes.  Yes, I guess we do.”

As he finished speaking, their hands flashed with amber energy, and a glowing yellow prompt appeared before Dom – each of the goblins suddenly staring off into space as they received their own.

System Message:  Contract Formed

You have brokered a deal on behalf of the goblin race.  Their souls are now connected to the Luckless Mark.  They may rebind their spawn point in the game world.  They may also exit the casino by paying a toll in chips – allowing them to teleport to eligible destinations of their choosing.

Current Destinations:

- Goblin Camp

New Active Skill:  Contract Negotiation

You may now form contracts using chips from the Luckless Mark.  These contracts bind both parties – with penalties doled out by a system administrator for any breach.  Higher-level contracts will allow for more complicated terms.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  Form basic contract.

Cost:  [5] Chips

x10 Level Up:  Roll the Dice

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1: +1 increased luck per kill.  Max stacks of 11.  Duration 15 seconds.  Refreshes on kill.  Multiplicative with the effects of Chaotic Blessing.

Effect 2:  +.50% damage and global damage resist per stack.

Dom glanced at the noticed.  Contract Negotiation looked like it might come in handy later.  Apparently, he’d found another use for the casino’s currency.  And the teleportation toll for the goblins was also interesting, although the options seemed rather limited at the moment.  He’d have to explore that more later and figure out how to add new locations.

The stacking damage and damage resistance bonus for Roll the Dice was also something he’d need to keep in mind later – especially during a fight.  Farming the goblins for coins had really helped push that skill up quickly.

But for now…

Dom turned to Truggle.  “Congratulations.  It looks like a celebration is in order,” he suggested, waving at the other goblins who were already raising their mugs and glasses around the bar, their shouts and cheers accompanied by the crash of broken furniture.

“Thank youz,” the hobgoblin grunted and then walked off to join the others.

“Think I might help myself too.  At least, until we respawn,” Adrian murmured with a gleam in his eye.  Even Wingman let out an excited cluck.

“Yeah, yeah, drink me into the poorhouse,” the Gambler muttered, rubbing at his eyes as the rest of the group wandered off, leaving him alone with Dom.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Dom said.  He dumped another bag on the floor, hundreds more chips rolling out onto the ground.  “That should cover the booze and damage.”

The Gambler’s eyes widened at the loot, and then his gaze drifted back to Dom.  “It seems I underestimated you.  I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Ditto,” Dom shot back evenly.

A wide grin suddenly split the Gambler’s face.  “But damn, I was right about you.  Even I can acknowledge a good deal when I see one.”  He rubbed his hands together as he surveyed his modest establishment, the goblins already starting to work their way out onto the floor.  “Just think of all the beautiful, beautiful money I’m going to make.”

“Don’t you mean happiness?” Dom asked dryly.

He waved a hand.  “Yeah, yeah, and that.”

Then the Gambler’s eyes shot to Dom.  “So, what’s next for you then?

Dom went quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting down to his hands.  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about the question you asked me a couple weeks ago while I was dying over and over trying to get the goblins to talk to me.  You asked me what I wanted, remember?”

The Gambler nodded.  “I do.”

Dom rose from the table, the entrance to the casino looming before him with the “Exit” sign dark and vacant.  “That whole shit show with Sean really brought that question into focus – watching that player torture and kill my friends.  Even Wingman.”  His fists clenched.  “But that wasn’t what really bothered me.  It was not being able to do anything about it.  Having no control – either here or back in my world.”

Dom turned back to the Gambler.  “I know what I want now.”

“I’m all ears,” the god shot back, and curiosity shone in his eyes.

“I want to be unkillable.  In this world or any other,” Dom said evenly.

The Gambler just stared, a lone eyebrow slowly rising. “Not to rain on your parade, but that seems impossible.  How exactly do you propose to accomplish that?

Dom maintained his gaze, his expression never wavering for a moment – even as the “Exit” light clicked on above him and the doors creaked open, an abyss lingering on the other side and a stiff breeze suddenly sweeping through the casino.

“It’s simple, really,” Dom finally answered as he stared off into that void.  “I’m just going to have to die.  A lot.”

With that statement, he let himself tip out of the door, the darkness swallowing him in an instant – not a trace of fear or hesitation in his gaze.

Which left the Gambler sitting there, staring at the entrance to his casino as the doors snapped shut.  He turned, taking in the chaos that was rippling through his establishment, the goblins claiming the tables – more fighting among the machines, their green bodies slamming into the equipment, shattering gems, and bending metal.  Yet instead of anger or frustration, a wide smile drifted across his lips, his eyes alight with amber energy.

“That sounds like a pretty fun plan,” he murmured.

Chapter 28 - Revered

Dom returned to the game world in a flash of multi-colored light, automatically orienting himself so that he landed firmly on his feet.  Adrian and Wingman appeared behind him, the chicken letting out a loud burp before waddling over to a nearby trough and lying down inside – her feathers sticky and clumping together.  She’d been growing rapidly and barely fit inside now, forced to squeeze her wings tight to make the fit.

“Was that beer staining her feathers?” Dom asked the bard, arching an eyebrow.

Adrian just shrugged and grinned back.  “She deserved to celebrate too.”

The shlick of scraping metal interrupted Dom before he could lay into the bard for being irresponsible.  The pair turned to see hundreds of greenskins arrayed before them.  The goblins filled the courtyard, encircling their crude huts – or what was left of them.  Many of them were no more than burnt-out husks after Dom’s attempt to “say hello.”  Their beady amber eyes glowed softly in the waning light that shone down upon the valley, crude weapons in hand.

More than a few goblins were swiping aside notices – likely the same one the others in the casino had seen.  Yet, they didn’t know what was going on.  Dom hadn’t had much time for introductions before they’d jetted off to the casino, and many of the goblins hadn’t even managed to respawn yet.  From their perspective, it probably looked like Dom had beaten the shit out of their leader and then killed him and his entourage.

They wouldn’t know enough to connect the dots based on the prompt.

Adrian slowly raised his hands.  “So, uh, what now?” he muttered to Dom.

For his part, Dom grimaced.  He was reluctant to kill the goblins, but he wasn’t sure he saw a better way out of this predicament – at least, not until Truggle respawned.

And, speak of the devil, a multi-colored tear formed in the air between Dom and Adrian and the remainder of the goblin village.  Truggle soon stumbled out, his hulking feet smashing down against the dry dirt and sending up large puffs of ash.  He held a massive mug in one hand, beer sloshing over the rim.  Although, he froze as he realized he was standing between Dom and the other goblins – the tension in the air almost palpable.  He looked back and forth several times before the light bulb seemed to come on in his head.

“Ahh, this ‘ere’s our new friend!” Truggle declared, waving his mug at Dom.  “He n-negotitated… negotiamated… uh, he talk to Fuckhead for uz.  Weez can bind to casino now!”

The goblins didn’t react immediately, just looking at each other in puzzlement.  Dom could practically feel the skepticism radiating off of them.  Could that be true?  Could this traveler have… helped them?  After bumrushing their camp for hours?  And killing dozens of them?  Burning down half the fort and beating the crap out of their village badass?

Truggle weaved a bit on his feet – clearly, that mug wasn’t his first.  But his gaze centered on Adrian, the slender bard slowly edging toward the town’s gate.

“Ahh, weez haven’t beenz for-ma, for-mer-alley, introduced yet!”  Truggle cried.

Dom nodded slowly, waving at Adrian to approach the hobgoblin – which he did.  Reluctantly. “Uh, yeah, that’s right.  This is Adrian.  Adrian, Truggle.”

Adrian straightened his back and hat, tilting his chin up as he approached the goblin leader.  “It’s a pleasure.  I’m Adrian, a bard of some renown,” he began, offering a hand.

Only for Truggle to step right up to him and sock him in the eye with one meaty fist.

Adrian was sent flying backward several feet, hitting the ground with a solid thump and a crack that even had Dom wincing.  That punch also broke the tension among the crowd.  A loud raucous laughter suddenly split the air as the goblins pointed at Adrian.  A few even mimicked him, standing up as tall as they could and fixing a phantom hat, strutting around in a rather, well… effeminate way before toppling over, the crowd announcing its approval with peals of laughter.

“The fuck was that,” Adrian grunted, shoving himself upright with a groan.  Blood leaked from the edge of his eye, the skin already purpling.

Dom tilted his head.  “Uh, that’s how goblins greet each other.  He really didn’t mean any offense,” he tried to explain.  He’d inadvertently impressed Truggle with his charge on the village and their brawl in the town center – Dom only realizing after the fact that he’d stumbled upon the goblins’ normal greeting.

“Oh, really?” Adrian muttered, rising back to his feet.  He spit some blood on the ground as he eyed the goblins laughing at him, anger flaring in his eyes.

Without warning, the bard kicked off the ground in a blur of motion, speeding directly toward Truggle.  Before Dom could stop him, he struck Truggle’s chin in a vicious uppercut, his lower jaw clacking hard against his top.  Adrian lacked Dom’s raw strength, but he was fast.  And he’d apparently taken Dom’s training to heart.

He’d put his hips into that punch, and he had some momentum going for him which was how the massive hobgoblin was sent flying up into the air, landing a couple of yards away.  The other goblins scrambled to avoid his body.  Another deathly silence descended upon the village as the goblins gaped at the slender bard.  Truggle lay there for several long seconds, and Adrian walked slowly toward him, kicking at him.

“You still alive?”

A hacking cough came from the hobgoblin.  He sat up, spitting out a couple teeth… only to look up at Adrian a moment later with a wild grin.  “Weez fine…  That was hella greeting!”

He pushed himself back to his feet, weaving in place for a moment and cradling his head.  Then Truggle turned to the other goblins.  “See yourselvez?  Dom and Adrian new alliez!  They not like otherz travelerz.  They stronk like greenskinz,” he declared, beating his chest, and almost falling over, coughing in pain.

At this announcement, the other goblins finally let out another cheer – this one no longer filled with laughter.  That was respect shining in those yellowed eyes as they approached Dom and Adrian, offering green hands and chattering voices in greeting.  An overly enthusiastic wave of limbs and weapons that wanted badly to know how Dom and Adrian had become so strong.

Dom and Adrian’s eyes met, and the bard just gave him a shrug and a grin.

For his part, Dom could only shake his head.  It was hard to believe Adrian was the same man he’d met all of those days and weeks ago – that skinny wannabe bard that was terrified of the jungle.  And now?  Well, he apparently wasn’t afraid to punch a damn hobgoblin in the face.  This world had changed him – just as it was changing Dom…

Although, he was distracted from this thought as a prompt appeared before him.

System Notice:  Goblin Village [Unnamed]

You have reached Honored reputation with this goblin village.  They now view you as an ally and will welcome you into their village with open arms – or closed fists, more likely.  But that’s a goblin for you.  They will also be more susceptible to your advice and suggestions.

“Hmph,” Dom grunted, swiping aside the notice.  That must have been the result of his “greeting” and the negotiation with the Gambler.  But it paid to have allies.

However, all of the noise had woken Wingman.

She raised a sleepy head, letting out a burp that was no longer cute.  It echoed out across the clearing with concussive force – almost as loud as the goblins’ cannons.  All amber eyes turned to that lone creature, who was now blinking at the crowd with bleary eyes.

Dom didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for the goblins to let out a howl of fear and start racing for the far wall of the village.  Some even abandoned their weapons in their rush to get away, sprinting toward the wooden wall that ringed the town.  Truggle stayed – but that seemed to be because he was still on the ground.  He stared with wide eyes at Wingman, his jaw slack and his massive hands trembling.

“Uh, what the hell is going on?” Adrian muttered.

“No idea,” Dom replied.  He walked over to Wingman, and she let out a soft cluck, hopping from one foot to the other as she peered up at him.  She clearly wanted to be picked up.  “Okay, but you’re starting to get too big for this,” Dom murmured.  She just happily clucked as he lifted her into his arms, her feathers soft against his skin as she nestled against him.

Truggle looked like he’d been struck by lightning as he watched that scene.  “First, youz save us from Fuckhead, now youz keep Death Cluck as pet?  Youz crazy…” he muttered.

Dom and Adrian shared a look.  It seemed the goblins had met Wingman’s mom then.

“We found her as a chick,” Dom said.  “It was an egg hunt.”

Truggle winced, backing up a step.  “Should killz it—”

Wingman glanced up at that, looking at him with her one good eye.  The hobgoblin stopped short and swallowed hard.  Okay, so the goblins were terrified of Wingman.  Unfortunately, Dom needed to deal with that.  He expected he was going to need their help for what was coming next.

Truggle’s stomach chose that moment to let out a low growl, the goblin never looking away from Wingman and his hand hovering inches away from the hilt of the axe still slung across his back.  The rest of his people were perched on the rooftops and peering around their huts, no one venturing closer than a couple dozen yards or so.  As Dom looked at them, his perspective shifted.  They looked tired.  Their skin and weapons and limbs were dirty.  But more than that… they were thin.  Hungry, he realized.  Which meant that the bellies many sported were likely more a function of malnutrition than a trait of their species.

Maybe he could earn Wingman some goodwill then.

“This might be a weird question,” Dom began, addressing Truggle, “But are your people starving?”

The goblin leader winced as he shoved himself back to his feet.  “Yez,” he answered.  “Game hard to find with Death Cluck roaming junglez.  Travelers also cut us down and steal our gearz.  We can’t die.  But weez still get hungry.  Many diez in past.”

“Shit,” Adrian muttered.  “Is he saying that his people have died of starvation, but they just keep coming back?”  His hands balled into fists.  “That Gambler guy is a real piece of work.”

Dom couldn’t help but agree, but life was full of shit choices.  The god had raised a fair point.  If he could barely even protect himself, how could he protect others?  For now, maybe Dom could resolve this problem.  Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

“Okay,” Dom said.  “I think we can help you with that.  Actually, Wingman here can help you with that,” he added, petting the chicken softly, which earned him another pleased cluck.  “I just need you to gather your people at the mouth of your valley.  Have them bring as many guns as they can.  Can you do that?”

Truggle looked skeptical, staring back and forth between Dom and chicken.

“Or we could just let her eat you all,” Adrian added with a grin.

That sent a shudder down the hobgoblin’s back, and he immediately whirled.  “Gunz teams grab your gearz!”  he shouted animatedly, breaking the other goblins out of their stupor.

Dom just arched an eyebrow at Adrian.  “Really?”

Which earned him a shrug from the bard.  “What?  It worked, didn’t it?”  A pause and then.  “But you do have a plan here, right?  Right?”

Dom just chuckled as he pivoted on his heel and started toward the mouth of the valley.  “It’ll be fine,” he said, waving a hand.  “You remember how we met Sean?”

Adrian stared after him with wide eyes.  “You wouldn’t…”

***

“Shit… apparently, you would,” Adrian grumbled as he eyed the scene before them.

The sun had begun to rise atop the edge of the neighboring mountain by the time they’d managed to gather the goblins together – which was like herding giant, masochistic cats with ADD – the light now casting a massive shadow across the entrance to the goblins’ valley.  Bones riddled the area, each step causing them to crunch and rattle together.  Sean’s last assault had only added more ivory to the macabre scene, signs sprouting up from the bones at odd angles.

The goblins stood in the mouth of that ravine.  Dom had positioned them carefully, forcing the front line to take a knee while the second row shot over top of them to maximize the number of guns that could be fired.  That had only taken roughly an hour to explain.  He’d also walked them through how to rotate their shots, a third line before the front ready to step forward and let loose as the others reloaded.  That had been so painful that Dom had resorted to just killing the goblins that messed up.  They seemed to learn better with some negative reinforcement…

Or at least the corpses motivated the others to pay slightly more attention.

Now, Dom, Adrian, and Wingman stood before this firing line, just outside the shimmering blue barrier that marked the edge of the goblins’ dungeon.

Dom set Wingman down gently, the chicken eyeing its audience in confusion.  The goblins stared at the beast and muttered, more than a few edging their fingers closer to their triggers – which meant Dom needed to get this over with before someone panicked and they were all buried under a hailstorm of bullets.  At this range, their terrible aim wouldn’t be an issue.

“Alright,” Dom began, his voice booming across the area.  “I’ll give the order to fire.  No one does so before then.  If you do, I’m feeding you to Wingman myself.”

His patience might have begun to fray over the last few hours.

The chicken gave a sharp squawk of agreement, more than a few of the goblins shuddering at the sound and clutching their guns tighter.

“We’ll move back to the firing line after Wingman draws attention,” Dom said in a quieter voice for Adrian’s benefit.  “You just worry about buffing them.  Switch to crowd control if the animals make it close to the firing line, and I’ll step in.”

“I’d still like to lodge a complaint.  This seems like a truly terrible idea.”

“Noted,” Dom replied simply.

Then he turned to Wingman, crouching down in front of her.  The bird looked at him questioningly, cocking her head to get a good look at him with her eye.

“So, I’m going to need you to squawk as loud as you can,” Dom urged her.  “Can you do that for me?  Show me how loud you can be?”

Wingman’s good eye squinted, and her feet stomped in a demanding way.

“There’ll be food in it for you.  Lots and lots of food,” Dom added, sweetening the deal.

Now she was bobbing her head happily, and her “food dance” had become more animated.

Dom just smiled slightly, patting her head.  “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

Wingman ruffled her feathers, spreading out her wings before craning her head to the sky.  For their part, Dom and Adrian had already smashed their palms against their ears.  Even with their Sonic Resistance, Wingman could be… loud.

And she soon proved just how powerful her lungs could be.

The sound that erupted from her throat caused the air to ripple and contort – the force rivaling even what Adrian could manage with his extensive breathing and vocal training.  It launched up into the air and struck the line of trees that lingered before the mouth of the valley.  Branches swayed.  Leaves tumbled free.  Colorful birds rocketed up into the sky.

Dom and Adrian didn’t wait for a response.  Dom stooped and grabbed Wingman before the pair launched back toward the firing line, the goblins parting to let them pass.  Then the trio settled behind the greenskins, Adrian was pulling his guitar case forward and lifting his instrument free, thumbing the air crystal at the base.  Wingman looked on in excitement as she saw the guitar, clucking and hopping in place – earning her a smile and a pat from Adrian.

She must have thought they were going to practice some more.

For their part, the goblins were all staring at the line of trees that lingered a few dozen yards away, a field of dirt and bone resting between them.  The ground was vibrating slightly, but the goblins remained steadfast – their guns raised and eyes unblinking.  They might be nervous around Wingman – possibly the prospect of being eaten alive – but they were accustomed to more mundane deaths.  They’d done that a lot.  Some of them even looked… excited?  Grins stretched across their faces and revealed sharp, yellowed teeth.

“Hold!” Dom called out, his voice booming across the clearing.  “Remember, don’t fire until my signal!”

With his massive axe in hand, Truggle stood to his side, watching the forest as that tremble increased.  The ground began to buck and sway, and the trees shook.  Leaves rained down upon them and were swept into the valley by the stiff winds that blew across this area.  “Whatz coming?” he growled out.

“Everything,” Adrian grunted, shouldering his guitar.  “Just… everything.”

Truggle didn’t get a chance to respond as the front line of creatures finally crossed the tree line, barreling out of the thick ferns and shadowy darkness.  Panthers.  Elephants.  At least one of those rhino-triceratops.  2-3 full packs of the damn monkeys.  And an assortment of insects, birds, and even some of the more mobile plants that roamed the jungle.  They were all converging on this one location, led by instinct – to the sound of Wingman’s voice.

They needed to kill that damn chicken.

“Good godz,” Truggle muttered, shaking his head.

Dom and Adrian just shared a look.  It was impressive.  But they’d seen worse.

Or better?  Dom supposed it depended on your perspective.

The goblins were shifting anxiously now.  “Hold!”  Dom bellowed.

The horde of creatures thundered closer, but he needed to ensure the goblins actually hit them.  That hunting party they’d accidentally encountered before meeting Sean had fired haphazardly – inefficiently.  And they’d all died as a result.

“Fire!” Dom finally screamed, and that command loosened the floodgates.

The firing line exploded in a series of concussive blasts, thick black smoke erupting from the end of each rifle, bullets propelled forward by crude black powder.  Then another series of blasts as the second line fired.  The bullets crashed into the animals, ripping through skin and muscle and cracking bone.  The first line of creatures toppled.  Bullets cut through the elephants’ legs, splintering the bone.  The rhino-triceratops threw up a few walls of earth, but the missiles soon blasted those apart, cutting through its stumpy limbs until it too toppled to the ground with a massive crash.  These bodies created a makeshift wall, the creatures behind them smashing into them from the rear and blunting their charge, several beasts crushed against the corpse, pulverized by the weight of the animals at their back.

All the chaos bought enough time for the standing goblins to shift back and the third line to step into their place.  It was awkward.  That third line fired slightly out of sync.  Dom saw a few instances of friendly fire, a bullet ripping through a goblin’s forehead or neck.  But it was better than the pure chaos with which they’d fought before.

It meant they could be trained.

The third line fired just as Adrian strummed at his guitar and a harsh whine filled the field, his song washing across their forces.  Suddenly their fingers got quicker as they reloaded their rifles… their senses sharper… their trembling limbs steadier.  A soft glow washed across their skin.  And Wingman soon added her voice to the fray, her croon washing up into the air to create a chaotic, deadly melody.

And only a few minutes later, it was over.

Dom hadn’t even gotten to participate.  With the goblins acting in sync and the native creatures blindly rushing – overwhelmed by their instincts – it was simply a massacre.

As the dust cleared and sound faded, it revealed heaping piles of bodies.  Dozens of creatures lay upon the dirt and bone, their blood pooling on the ground, forming a crimson river that trickled back down into the mouth of the valley.  And as it did, Wingman’s eyes went wide, and she let out an excited squawk.  She looked up at Dom questioningly, doing her little hop again.  She wanted permission.  So, he gave it to her, nodding slightly.

She immediately sped forward, leaping over the line of goblins in a blur of feathers and snapping wings as she made a beeline for the largest corpse.  Wingman soon burrowed into the side of the rhino-triceratops, her beak slicing easily through its tough skin.  Meanwhile, the goblins looked on with dumbstruck expressions.

“So much foodz,” Truggle murmured in shock.

Dom could practically hear hundreds of stomachs growling, the sounds almost rivaling Wingman and Adrian’s performance.

Then, all at once, the goblins let out a cheer, dropping their guns and pulling knives and hatchets free to the scrape of metal.  They raced forward, cutting into the creatures as they began to skin them and prepare the meat for travel.  Others raced to the edge of the forest, stripping long sheets of bark from the trees to act as sleds to haul their new bounty back home.

Which left Dom and Adrian standing there, the bard having stowed his guitar and snapping the latch closed with a click.  “What the hell?” he muttered, pointing at the rhino-triceratops.

Dom followed his gesture, seeing that Wingman had emerged in the middle of a group of goblins, her wings blood-soaked and raising her neck as she swallowed the rhino’s heart in one meaty gulp, a massive lump forming in her throat as he swallowed it down.

Yet instead of running from the chicken, the goblins rushed toward her, dropping to their knees, and offering what looked like thanks?  Prayers?  Wingman just looked down at them in confusion, but as they began bringing her choice organ meats, laying them at her feet, she clucked happily, snapping up the treats one by one as the goblins murmured, their chants growing in volume.  It sounded like they were praising the “Great Cluck Cluck.”

Adrian shook his head.  “Now I’ve really seen everything.”

At the same time, a prompt appeared before Dom, Adrian looking distracted as well.

System Notice:  Goblin Village [Unnamed]

You have reached Revered reputation with this goblin village.  Now that you’ve solved their food shortage, they now view you as one of their closest friends and confidants.  You’re basically family.  Just FYI, goblins sometimes duel their family members to the death and have been known to occasionally blow them up as a prank.  So… lucky you, I guess?

Dom chuckled softly and swept the notice aside.

“Guess we just make friends wherever we go,” Adrian commented dryly.  He side-eyed Dom, his expression sobering.  “So, we’ve escaped that damn cave, allied these green assholes with the Gambler, and solved their food problem.  Now what?  We going to take over this town or something?”

Dom shook his head.  “I don’t really want to be responsible for running a town or city.  Sounds like a massive headache.”  Putting aside that, getting the goblins to do literally anything is a royal pain in the ass.  “Besides, there’s still your plan to raid the <The Jackals’> warehouse.  I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Yeah, uh, my plan,” Adrian fumbled.

“There a problem?” Dom asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, maybe a few,” Adrian muttered.  “I’ve been thinking about that.  Like my plan works in theory.  Steal their shit and turn it into cold, hard cash.  Simple, right?”

He raised a finger.  “But, assuming we manage to collect the loot, we still need to sell it somehow.  And for that, we need access to the auction house in Aislen to post the items.  We can’t just bring them back here.  If we wait too long, the guild can also station people to watch the auction house – which could be troublesome.  Meaning we’d need to do both at the same time?  Time that I’m not sure the guild is going to give us.  Once we blow the warehouse, they’re going to be all over our asses.”

Dom nodded along with his explanation.  He’d been thinking the same thing.  Although, he had an idea for how to tackle that problem, especially now that he’d seen what the goblins could accomplish when they were working together and weren’t blowing each other up. With some actual training, they could be pretty scary.  And this test had helped Dom streamline that training process somewhat.  It would still suck, but it was manageable.  The goblins just needed to be properly incentivized.  Plus, they had roughly a week in-game until Sean was likely to return to this dungeon – since he would wait until the goblins had collected more resources – more than enough time to beat them into shape, quite literally.

But the opportunity to fuck with Adrian was just too good.

“Wait, so you’re saying you have no plan?  But this was your idea!” Dom said with wide eyes, feigning surprise and irritation.

Adrian swallowed hard, barely able to hold Dom’s gaze.  “Well… not really.  As you know, I’m really more of a big picture guy,” he added with a wince.

Dom let the silence stretch on for a second.  Just to watch him squirm a little.  With what was at stake for Dom, Adrian likely expected his response to land poorly.  That was fair.

Dom suddenly clapped the bard on the back, smiling broadly.  “I’m joking, man.  It’s cool.  I think I have an idea for how to handle that problem – buy us some time, that is.”

The bard just stared at him before heaving an exasperated sigh of relief.  “Hilarious.  Way to take advantage of your condition,” he grumbled with a glare at Dom

“I thought so,” Dom answered glibly.  “But that brings up a good topic.  I figure we could split the workload since this is just the first step.  I need to focus on training the goblins.  But even if we succeed in stealing the guild’s stuff, it’s not going to be nearly enough to pay for my living and medical costs.  We’re going to have to find more work, which is where I need your help – you’re much better at that sort of shit.”

Dom side-eyed the bard.  “Plus, there’s also your cut.”

“My cut?” Adrian asked in confusion, caught off guard.

“Sure,” Dom said with a shrug.  “I’ve been thinking about it, and why shouldn’t you get paid?  Sounds like you’re as broke as me.  And we’re starting a business together – of sorts anyway.  Steal from assholes to give to… well, ourselves?  Anyway, I’m thinking something like 80/20—”

“70/30,” Adrian answered immediately, his shock disappearing in a flash.

Dom snorted out a laugh.  “Got over the pity thing real fast, huh?”

Adrian at least had the self-awareness to look mildly embarrassed.

“Nah, it’s cool.  Those are fair terms.  And if I ever manage to pay for my medical treatment in full, I say we drop it down to 50/50,” Dom said, offering a hand.  “So, what do you say, partner?”

Adrian just stared at that hand for a long moment, then raised his eyes to Dom’s, a grin stretching across his face.  “I say let’s do it,” he replied firmly.

The bard hesitated for a moment, cocking his head in thought.  “Wait… so does this mean I’m going to be our marketing and business guy?  Basically, the face of the company?  Like the headliner?  Or lead vocalist?”

Dom began to shake his head.  “Uh, that’s not quite—"

“Shit, I definitely need to get some new clothes,” Adrian murmured, ignoring Dom as he plucked at his ratty, velvet tunic.  His eyes went wide as his fingers lifted to his cheeks.  “And I need to find a mirror ASAP.  I bet my pores look terrible after all this time spent running around this hellhole.  You think the in-game camera might…”

Dom began to tune him out as Adrian launched into an exhaustive analysis of his own appearance, including what he planned to buy with the cash they didn’t have yet.  That inevitably transitioned into possible merchandising and brand advertising once they were an established name in-game.  Dom could only shake his head.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Adrian started marketing his own in-game skincare routine.  Leech mucus and river mud to give you your avatar that “digital glow.”

But all of that begged the question.  It assumed they were successful.

Not that Dom was too worried.

He cracked his knuckles as he watched the goblins swarming the piles of corpses before them.  So far, they’d done pretty well at accomplishing the impossible.

Chapter 29 - Routine

Sean’s forces slowed to a stop, the mouth of a familiar valley lingering before them.  Bones littered the area.  They were spread out across the beaten dirt for dozens of feet, the occasional rains pushing them up against the rocky cliffs to form giant piles.  Yet, not all of those skeletons were humanoid.  Smaller, denser bones.  Fangs.  Serpentine spines and four-legged frames.  They were a mixture of the goblins’ remains and the other creatures that roamed the jungle.

Roughly a week had passed in-game since Sean had visited this dungeon, the guild rotating through the instances located closer to Aislen or near their fledgling highway.  The goblins respawned quickly, but giving them additional time helped the occupants of those dungeons regroup and gather their resources again, just in time for <The Jackals> to take their pound of flesh.

And in that time, Sean hadn’t heard any word of Dom and Adrian returning to Aislen.  No one in town had seen them – neither the residents nor the guards stationed at the gates.

A smirk drifted across Sean’s face as he looked at the entrance to the valley.

To think that pair had seemed so arrogant at first…

Yet they’d certainly gone down fast – them and their silly chicken.

They’d likely logged out long ago, given up after being trapped in that damn cave.  By resetting their spawn point to the second instance, they would need to make it out of the cave, past the goblin fort, and all the way back to Aislen to reset their respawn location.  A single death would put them right back where they started.

It was impossible, especially for two travelers with no gear.

Of course, it was possible they could still be waiting for Sean and his raid to return.  But that was incredibly unlikely.  How would they know when Sean planned to come back?  And the raid only lasted about fifteen minutes.  That would require the pair to stay logged in continuously for more than a week in-game – a tall feat for anyone.

People had to eat and sleep, after all.

“Sir, we have a problem,” an air mage said to Sean’s right.

His eyes snapped to her face.  “What do you mean?” he grunted, his smile slipping.

The air mage placed a hand to her ear, a streamer of amber energy coiling around her fingertips.  Her brow furrowed as she spoke, “The air mage scouts on the ridge say they haven’t seen any activity around the goblins fort.”  A pause.  “They… they think the goblins are gone.”

Sean’s amusement had dried up in a flash.  That was… odd.

“Look at this!” another traveler shouted from the mouth of the valley.  The others had already formed up, assuming their phalanx position.

Sean let out a frustrated huff.  “What is it now?” he muttered as he approached.

His frown only deepened as the soldier handed him a wooden sign.  Instead of the typical images showcasing Sean’s brutal murder, a white flag had been painted across its surface.  And below that image were just a few words…  “We givz up.  Biii!”

As Sean looked up, he saw many more of those signs littering the entrance to the dungeon – each one waving a white flag of surrender.  Each telling the same message; echoing the report from the air mages on the ridge.  The goblins had given up.  They’d left.

“Could the goblins have really packed up?” the traveler asked.  The others around Sean were murmuring to themselves now, confusion sweeping through their ranks and their formation disintegrating as they crowded around the signs and spoke in hushed voices.

Sean could only shake his head.  He was stumped.

He couldn’t believe the goblins would really leave.  For all Booker’s “this is a living world” bullshit, this place still had rules.  It still operated like a game.  The monsters that filled its dungeons weren’t supposed to surrender.  Or pack up and move if they farmed the instance too heavily.  They were supposed to just respawn, assume their positions, and let the travelers cut them down as many times as they wanted.

Something felt off about all of this, but it took a moment for it to sink in.

If the goblins had left, then why hadn’t Dom and Adrian returned to Aislen?

The answer came to Sean immediately.  Maybe it’s just a ruse.  Sean glanced at his guildmates, noticing the way they had abandoned their formation.  Maybe the goblins were finally planning a counterattack after getting curb stomped over and over again by travelers.

“Form up now!” Sean snapped, his voice echoing across the clearing.  “We don’t know if this is a trick or ambush.  Stay alert!”

His soldiers started in alarm before stepping back into line, many nodding along with Sean’s explanation.  It made sense, didn’t it?  Far more than the goblins just leaving.

“Is the fort still there?” he asked, whirling back to his air mage.  The woman nodded after tapping at her ear once more.  “Also, the scouts say they see a bunch of tracks leading into the cave near the back of the valley.  The same one where we left—”

“I’m familiar,” Sean snapped, interrupting her.

Why the cave, though?  Sean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to visualize the space.  He’d noticed a few smaller tunnels along the back wall but had never paid them much mind – not with the raid boss lingering just inside and the clock ticking on the goblins’ respawn.

Maybe they fled into those tunnels?  It was possible.

Sean wiped at the sweat on his brow, the eyes of his soldiers lingering upon him – waiting, watching, looking to him for a decision.  There were only two options he could see.

First, the goblins really had surrendered.  In that case, his forces could just collect some free loot from the fort and drag it back to Aislen.  Even the timber was worth its weight in gold.  It was far easier to collect scrap lumber than it was to cut down the truly massive trees that grew around Aislen.

On the other hand, it could be a trap.  If so, they could protect themselves by having most of their forces check on the cave.  Sean cocked his head.  That placement could also put the goblins at a tactical disadvantage.  If they really had fled into the tunnels, Sean could retreat to the tunnel leading into the cave.  That would force the greenskins attack from a single direction, the tunnel walls acting as a funnel.  In other words, they had done Sean’s work for him.

A small smile drifted across the raid leader’s face as another fact settled into place.  It was likely that the goblins had fled into the tunnels – either to plan an ambush or to retreat.  That would then explain why Dom and Adrian hadn’t returned to Aislen.

“Alright,” Sean’s voice rang out suddenly, his air mage amplifying the volume at a gesture from him, “It seems the goblins have switched things up on us.  However, our scouts say there’s no activity from the fort, and it looks like the greenskins have fled into the caves.  So, we’re going to enter the valley, break up our forces into Group A and Group B like normal – except we’ll devote about 80% of our manpower to Group A this time.  Your raid and group assignments will be updated shortly.  Group B will focus on breaking down the fort and retrieving anything of value.  Group A will head to the cave, kill anything we find, and then hightail it out of here.

“Everyone got it?” he asked finally, issuing a ready check.

Less than a minute later, everyone had tapped “Yes.”

“Then let’s get to it!” Sean barked.

<The Jackals> promptly moved into the valley, Sean keeping a couple of his air mages on the ridge just in case.  There was a remote possibility that the goblins had fled into the jungle and then covered their tracks, which would cut off their escape.  Although, that was unlikely since they had just come from that direction.  For good measure, he sent a few scouts further into the jungle – not that he expected them to live long.

However, their forces didn’t encounter any issues as they pushed inside the valley.  Group B soon reported that the goblins’ fort was completely empty, and it looked like they’d left a while ago – the embers in their firepits having long since burnt out.  It also appeared they’d loaded up most of their gear, which made sense if they were leaving.

Meanwhile, Sean and Group A made their way to the cave complex, the entrance tunnel soon looming before them.  He stooped as they approached, his fingers tracing the indentations in the ground.  There were hundreds of them – smallish footprints that matched the goblins’ frame.  His eyes skimmed to the tunnel, noting the heaping piles of seared timber along either side – the remains of the gate that had been shoved off to either side, no doubt.  He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Not that he really expected a trap.  From his experience, the goblins were pretty stupid.

Hell, they’d been running into the same deathtrap formation outside the valley for weeks.

“Line up,” Sean barked.  “Melee to the front and form a shield wall.  Casters and ranged to the interior.  Everyone make sure to rebind as we cross into the second instanced zone.  There are no goblins out here, and they’ll likely respawn in the cave if they die so there’s little risk.”

He pointed at one group of five.  “You lot stay out here and watch the tunnel entrance just in case.”  They nodded in agreement.

Then the raid began moving inside, their mailed boots loudly clanking as they strode into the tunnel, the sound echoing off the walls as the sunlight bled away – replaced with a murky darkness.  They trod forward slowly, their weapons in hand and their eyes peering into the shadows.  The gloom was soon broken by faint light as the tunnel opened up into that same large cavern where they’d slain the rhino beast and abandoned Dom and Adrian.

Yet the pair was nowhere in sight, nor was their pet chicken.

In fact, the cave appeared to be empty.

Sean’s brow furrowed.  “Maintain formation.  Tom, go ahead and scout,” he called.

Their tank broke ranks and moved into the cavern with a clank of metal as the group edged further inside and formed up around the mouth of the tunnel.  Tom strode confidently into the center of the cave, wincing only slightly as he noticed familiar spires of rock, a skeleton still hanging from the stone.  However, as the seconds ticked past, no booby traps exploded, and no enemies emerged from the tunnels along the back wall.

“I, uh, I think I see something,” Tom murmured, not needing to amplify his voice for it to echo across the cavern.  He stooped, lifting something from the ground and returning to the group.

As he approached, Tom handed the object to Sean.

It was another crude wooden sign, similar to the others he’d seen at the mouth of the valley.  Although, this one in particular looked familiar, showing the image of Sean being stabbed in the ass by a dozen goblin spears.  Where had he seen this again?

That fucking bard! he realized suddenly.  That waste of digital space had been laughing about this sign last time they were here.

Sean’s brow furrowed.  He could have sworn he saw that wannabe bard pocket this thing.  So, what did that mean?  Had he dropped this here before he gave up and logged out?  Or was there another explanation?  Could the bard be working with the goblins—

He chuckled softly, not bothering to finish that question.

It was absurd.  Silly really.  He was just letting his mind wander…

A sudden violent blast detonated behind him, the ground bucking and swaying and knocking many in the raid to the ground.  The explosion was followed by another.  And then another.  A roaring series of booms that blasted through the tunnel, accompanied by the sound of scraping stone as the walls and ceiling began to collapse.  Dust billowed out into the cavern a massive wave, briefly obscuring the group’s visibility of the room.

Sean had managed to remain upright, barely.  He raised an arm to protect his face, a fine coating of dirt now covering his armor and weapons.  He could only stare at the tunnel entrance, coughing hard to clear the dust from his lungs.  An avalanche of dust and rocky fragments continued to spew from that opening, their escape now completely blocked.

“What… what the fuck?” Sean muttered.

***

One week earlier…

“Okay, so I think I get it,” Dom murmured, kneading at his temple with one knuckle.

Adrian and Truggle sat around him, along with a “crafter goblin” named Whistleknot.  The goblins had just finished explaining more about their race, village, and abilities, including how they gathered and collected resources and produced the guns and cannons they’d used to bombard Dom.

Dom’s thoughts were racing as his eyes skimmed out across the village, shouts and cheers echoing up into the night sky occasionally accompanied by an explosion or short-lived brawl.  Upon their return, the goblins had been quick to set up a makeshift kitchen after their “hunt.”  Although, from Dom’s point of view, it had really just been a massacre.  Now massive spits dotted the village center, perched atop blazing bonfires.  And rotating over those flames were all manner of creatures: boars, elephants, and even a couple of those damn panthers.  The greenskins were also passing around giant hornets on wooden sticks, their chitin seared to a golden brown.

Dom had been skeptical at first, but it turned out they tasted pretty good.  Kind of crunchy and sweet.  Adrian insisted he was starting to go native.

The ship might have sailed on that a while ago…

Behind all of that commotion, the goblins had constructed a dais out of scrap timber and metal that towered above the spits.  The greenskins might be insane and have no sense of self-preservation, but they were also scrappy and were good with their hands.  In fairness, it looked like the dais might collapse at any moment, but they’d thrown it together in a mere hour in a flurry of green limbs and hands.

And the reason for that hasty construction was now perched atop the structure.

Wingman lay upon a dense collection of skins and furs.  One goblin fanned her softly with a fern while a line of the greenskins brought her choice selections of organ meat from the spits. As the goblins placed the offerings in front of her, Wingman would eyeball the meat, picking and choosing among them.  When a goblin’s offering was selected, he or she was then inducted into Wingman’s growing entourage, one of her official attendants marking a red streak down the center of her new follower’s bald head – mimicking Wingman’s own plumage.

“I feel like this is heading in a bad direction,” Adrian muttered, following Dom’s gaze.

“Someone sounds jealous,” Dom shot back with a grin.

The bard crossed his arms with a huff.  “As if I could be envious of a chicken.”

Dom chuckled, although his eyes kept straying back to Wingman.  He shared the bard’s reservations.  The goblins were starting to turn the chicken into some sort of god figure.  On the other hand, maybe that was a positive.  They were going to need allies, after all.

Speaking of which…

Dom shifted his attention back to Truggle and Whistleknot.  “Alright, so let’s start from the beginning,” he said with a sigh.  “You lot can craft guns and other machines.  This is because as fairies you were well versed in crafting.  Those memories are fuzzy now after 100+ years and thousands of deaths, but you still instinctively recall how to make this stuff.  Or at least, some of you do.”

“Yez, Boss,” Whistleknot grunted with a nod.

Dom arched an eyebrow.  The goblins had started calling him that after negotiating their new contract with the Gambler and supplying a mountain of fresh meat.  Although, Truggle didn’t seem to mind.  When Dom had pulled him aside to ask about it, the goblin had just shrugged.  Dom might have refused to become the village leader, but that didn’t change the fact that the goblins would likely follow him into a damn volcano at this point.

Hell, they’d probably be excited about it.

Adrian glanced between the pair skeptically.  “And if I’m getting this right, you make your own gunpowder—”

“Boom boom dust,” Whistleknot amended.

“Suuuure…. Boom boom dust,” Adrian replied with a wince. “And you mine the materials from the tunnels connected to that big cave.  Which also happens to be where you hide most of your better equipment before each traveler raid?”  Both goblins nodded.

That one had been a shock.  Sean assumed the greenskins were just suicidal idiots who blindly rushed his forces.  The truth was a little more nuanced.  To his credit, the goblins were suicidal idiots, but they’d also discovered that dying was simply an easier way to deal with the travelers.  They showed up at about the same time every few days, so the greenskins would hide most of their more valuable stuff in advance.  They’d initially started capturing a wild creature to stick in that cave as a way to defend their horde.  But they’d quickly realized that the travelers gave up even faster after killing it… even if they couldn’t understand why.  So they’d just kept it up, sticking whatever animal they managed to find in that cave.

Dom shook his head.  It was incredible in a way.  Sean thought he was making out like a bandit with each raid, but he was just getting the goblins’ scraps.  Their shittiest equipment, guns, and armor – which went a long way to explaining why the weapons were so prone to break or explode on use.

“Okay, so there are different species of goblin… more than just hobgoblins,” Dom recited, eyeing the notes that floated on the screen beside him.  “Presumably because you’re a mutated race of fairy.  So intense training or activity results in different changes to your bodies.”  The pair nodded.

Dom waved at the smaller greenskins.  “Those are basic goblins?  They’re pretty strong and resilient, with high Strength, Vitality, Endurance, and Dexterity.  They also have basic physical, bleed, and poison resistance.”

“Yez, and I’z hobgoblin,” Truggle declared, beating his chest.  “More stronk and harder to killz.”  He tapped his head, which let out a hollow sound.  “But slowz like mountain.”

That was only about the fifteenth time Truggle had mentioned that.

He was indeed “slow like mountain.”

“And you became a hobgoblin by mining in the tunnels, we know,” Adrian offered, rolling his eyes.  He shot a glance at Dom.  “The question is more how you evolved.”

“I mean, it sort of makes sense,” Dom replied as he cocked his head.  “Think about our training.  You’ve already observed the way it’s changed our bodies.”  He shrugged.  “Now spread that out over more than a hundred years and assume the greenskins were way less targeted about it.  I could see why it would affect their evolution gradually.”

“I guess,” Adrian retorted. Skeptically.  “But then, how do you explain Mr. Big Brains here,” he continued, waving at Whistleknot.

“Ahh, thankz youz,” the crafter goblin replied with a toothy grin.  “We buildz fort and homez and plan minz shaftz.  Big brainz jobz.  I spendz most of my time in the workshopz.”

“Which is located down in the mines?” Dom asked.

They both nodded.

The truth was that Whistleknot’s speech was a little better than most of his brethren, although he paid for this increased Intelligence with an even more slender physique than the basic goblins – likely due to a lack of exercise.  He also had all manner of tools and gadgets strapped to his body, and a long rifle swung from his back, the wood polished to a shine and the metal well-oiled, which was a stark contrast to the other weapons Dom had seen.

But that gun was proof that they were able to craft better gear.

“I think it’s just more of the same,” Dom said, glancing at Adrian.  “Surviving out here alone is enough to create the basic goblins.  Hobgoblins are those that focus on strength training.  And Whistleknot here is an example of the goblins who spend their time crafting and thinking.  I think they’re just evolving based on the stats they prioritize.”

Which means there might be other species…

But Dom was going to have to wait on that for now.

They had a more immediate problem.

“Okay,” Dom said, clapping his hands together.  “So, I think that’s enough to come up with a plan.”  He waved at Adrian.  “The two of us need to access the guild headquarters in Aislen somehow, steal a bunch of loot, make our way to the auction house in town, post that stuff for sale, and then get the hell out of there.  However, to accomplish this, we’ll need to get past hundreds of <The Jackals>, including most of their officers and higher-level raid members.”

“Oh, is that all?” Adrian drawled as he tuned his guitar, occasionally plucking at a string.  “And here I thought this was going to be hard.”

Truggle let out a snort, smashing the log beneath him with a fist, the wood splintering and cracking, fragments of bark shattering the ground.  “We juzt smash insidez.”

“I was thinking of a slightly more complex plan,” Dom replied gingerly.  Truggle’s expression fell – brainpower wasn’t his strong suit.  “But I can guarantee there’ll be plenty of smashing,” he added quickly, earning him a grin.

“Whatz you thinkin’?” Whistleknot asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“We need to make our mission easier,” Dom answered slowly.  “And to do that, we need to weaken the enemy team.  Pull them out of position so we can score, I guess,” he continued.

Noticing the goblins’ confused expression, Dom elaborated, “For example, we know Sean will be attacking the village in about a week.  I doubt he’ll mix up his tactics since he expects the goblins to just run into the woodchipper again and for me and Adrian to give up and log out.”

Dom hesitated for a moment.  “But what if we do something different?  Draw him in and trap him so he can’t just die and respawn in town.  That might even force him to call in reinforcements to help bail him out.  Of course, at that point, <The Jackals> would be down a couple hundred members, including many of their most powerful players.”

“Huh,” Adrian murmured.  “That would also throw their guild headquarters into chaos, which means we’ll have an easier time raiding them.”

The bard huffed out a sigh.  “Okay, I don’t hate the idea.  But we’re still going to need some time for me to post everything—” The bard stopped himself short, his eyes widening slightly.  “Wait… maybe I can use our bag system for collecting the gear, and I saw something on the forums about an app that might let me set up the postings ahead of time…  I could possibly automate the process,” he muttered to himself, trailing off as he swiped at the air to bring up his console, his eyes now skittering down an invisible page.

“Okayz.  But howz we deal with Pointy Dick?” Truggle asked.  This was their name for Sean.  Probably because he had the swords, and he was a dick.  The goblins had developed a very straightforward naming system.

Dom grimaces.  “You’ll have the hard job of keeping the travelers pinned down.  That’ll also give you all a chance to repay Sean personally.”  Dom wouldn’t mind getting a rematch with that asshole himself, but he was willing to wait if the team won.  Besides, from the delighted smiles on Truggle and Whistleknot’s faces, the goblins looked like they might have dibs.

“What do you needz from us?” Whistleknot asked.

“I need your crafters to get to work building better weapons.  You’ll also likely need more crafter goblins, so conscript any of the basic goblins with higher Intelligence stats.  You should make as many of those rifles on your back as you can.  Focus on building them so that they’re less likely to explode without warning.  Once you have a small supply, recruit a few of the other basic goblins with high Dexterity and have them practice shooting using the stumps outside the fort.”

Whistleknot grimaced.  “Most greenskins don’t like to practiz.”

Dom met his eyes with a grim expression.  “Then just kill them if they step out of line.”  He might have had some reservations about killing humanoid creatures at first, but he was quickly amending that philosophy.  The goblins couldn’t die anyway, at least, not really.  And neither could the travelers.  The only person who was actually going to die here if they failed was Dom.  Believe it or not, with that mindset, he could rationalize a lot.

“Okayz,” Whistleknot said.  “If boss say they need to diez, that should be good reasonz.”

“We’re also going to need a LOT of that gunpow— that boom boom dust,” Dom amended with a wince.  Still a stupid ass name.  “At least a few barrels.”

“Weez have plenty,” Whistleknot confirmed.  “Greenskins like ‘splosionz.”

As if to accentuate his point, a blast detonated off to the side of the clearing.  A fight had broken out, ending with a basic goblin pulling a gun… which promptly exploded in his face and blasted apart his skull.  This earned raucous laughter from the rest of the village as his corpse slumped to the ground, the other goblins completely unfazed by the explosion.

“Fucking goblins,” Adrian murmured as he looked up from his screen with a startled expression, only to shake his head and get back to work.

“What youz need from meez?” Truggle asked.

Dom met the village leader’s gaze.  “I need you to recruit the basic goblins with high Strength and Vitality and take them down into the mines.  We’re going to need more materials for the crafters.  And I think I have a few ideas for how to help them train faster and convert into hobgoblins.  We can add weights and then work them until they die over and over.”  This earned him an enthusiastic nod from Truggle.

“As an incentive, whoever gets the biggest fastest gets their first choice of a weapon from the crafters,” Dom added, cocking his head in thought.

Truggle’s eyes suddenly gleamed.  “I’z countz?”

Dom matched his grin.  “Of course.”

Then his expression sobered.  “As for the rest of the goblins, we’ll have them work on the fort, clear out this food stuff, and make a few… changes to that cave for our guests.”

The strategy was unfurling in Dom’s mind.  First, they trap them, and then they pin them down.

Although, his thoughts were interrupted as one of the goblin cooks banged a large metal pot to announce the meat was ready.  That noise was loud but certainly not louder than the squawk that erupted from across the clearing, forcing most of the goblins to smash their palms to their ears with a grimace of pain.  The sea of green abruptly parted as Wingman dropped down from her perch and raced toward the spits in a blur of motion, her entourage following close behind.

Wingman was soon standing in front of the biggest spit, bouncing from foot to foot as she engaged in her signature “food dance.”  The goblin before her sliced off a huge slab of meat with large axes, the chunk dropping to the ground, steam coiling up into the air.  Wingman quickly snapped it up, swallowing the impossibly large piece of meat in almost a single gulp – only to stand there demanding more, the starving goblins waiting patiently behind her.

“Food timez!” Truggle roared, Whistleknot following his lead as the pair raced off to join the rest of the horde of greenskins.  As Wingman finally stepped aside, they descended on the spits like a ravenous horde of locusts, chopping at the meat with all manner of weapons.

Dom just shook his head at the chaotic scene.

Adrian still sat beside Dom, staring in horror at the goblins’ “banquet.”  Then his gaze shifted to Dom.  “So, I think I see the plan here, but you conveniently left out some details.  Like how exactly are we planning to get into Aislen?  Everyone there is going to recognize us, and it’s not like the city gets visitors.  We can’t just stroll through the front gate – even if Feng and Chin might be willing to cover for us.”

A grin drifted across Dom’s face.  “Don’t worry… that part will be easy.”

Adrian just swallowed hard and stared back skeptically, his fingers freezing in front of his screens.  Dom had said that before during training.  Many times.

And it was never easy.

Chapter 30 - Ambush

Sean’s raid members struggled back to their feet, coughing and hacking to remove the dust from their lungs.  Many clutched at their weapons, shellshocked and knuckles white.  The blasts had rattled them, and the members of <The Jackals> were slow to move back into formation.

Not that Sean could blame them – his own thoughts racing.

He didn’t need to examine the tunnel to know it had been wholly caved in.  There had undoubtedly been more than enough force behind those explosions – even if he had no idea how the goblins had managed to pull off those blasts.  They didn’t have any magic, at least not that he’d seen.  Which implied they had used something new.

And then there was the strategy behind the explosions.  This was clearly intended to be a trap – confirmation of the worst soon pouring in over the in-game chat as the raid members he’d stationed outside reported the cave-in.  The log was filling up swiftly as the rest of the raid started peppering them with frantic questions.

Not that any of that helped them right now.

The bottom line was that they were trapped.

“Fuck,” Sean muttered.

Then louder, turning to the raid and marshaling confidence in his voice, “Get the hell into formation!  We have a wall to our backs now, so use it!”

Another rumble abruptly drifted up from the adjoining tunnels.  Yet this wasn’t an explosion – no blast of noise and dust spewing forth.  It was a heavy drumbeat that vibrated through those caverns, bouncing off the stone until it seemed to vibrate the very air.  As though the mountain itself had a heartbeat.

It seemed they’d found the goblins.  Sean’s gaze drifted down to the sign still clutched in his hand – the one Adrian had pocketed – tossing it aside with a rattle of wood.  This almost certainly explained why Dom and Adrian hadn’t returned.  He’d been right.  The goblins had decided to relocate into the tunnels where the stone offered protection from their air mages.

“What’s going on?” the mage at Sean’s side murmured, others among his soldiers glancing at him with worried expressions.

Sean let out a frustrated huff.  He understood their confusion.  Mobs weren’t supposed to behave like this.  A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the cave-in had been positioned just in front of the shimmering blue barrier that marked the edge of the second respawn zone.  Which meant if they died in here, they’d respawn at the entrance to the cavern, not the valley outside – a reality that was sinking in for the others as well, many staring behind them at that deadly blue wall.

It looked like killing themselves was out.

Sean shook off his anxiety.  What the hell was he doing?  The goblins had begun to adapt, sure.  But at the end of the day, they were still little green morons wielding shitty weapons.  It would be difficult for them to take advantage of their guns here in the cave, the narrow adjoining tunnels making it hard for them to get line of sight on Sean’s forces.  Not that this was likely to stop them.  They’d probably just shoot through each other, doing the raid’s work for them.

“Looks like we’re trapped for now, but don’t worry,” Sean announced to his guildmates.  “The others can dig us out.  It’ll just take some time.  But they’re only goblins.  We’ve killed thousands of them already, so what’re a few more?”

The others nodded tentatively along with his words, the grip on their weapons firming up and their feet shuffling along the floor.  All eyes were on those tunnels, even as the first goblins raced forward into view, their bodies nearly naked and wielding only crude metal weapons and knives.  The travelers began to relax at the sight.  These creatures might have pulled off one trick, but they were still only goblins.

Sean’s smile only widened.

This would be over quickly.

His raid stood their ground, the goblins charging them head-on.  They soon crashed into the raid’s frontline and were cut down in droves – the travelers’ weapons carving cleanly through green skin, amber blood raining down upon the stone and mixing with the thick dust to form muddy rivers that flowed into the tunnel at their backs.

Although, Sean’s brow furrowed as he watched that scene.  At first, he didn’t detect anything wrong.  It was just business as usual – greenskins running into them like lemmings.  But as he watched, he observed a few… irregularities.  He noticed one traveler swing wide, missing his target, only for the goblin to step into the blow.

That had to be a mistake—

Sean cut that thought short as he saw another goblin quite literally impale himself on a sword, charging headlong onto the blade.  He lived for another few seconds, the traveler trying in vain to push him off the blade.  But the goblin just stood there.  He didn’t try to attack.  Didn’t try to flee.  He just watched the traveler with a wild grin stretching across his face, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth… until the life fled from his eyes, and he slumped to the ground unmoving.

What the fuck is going on here? Sean wondered.

Even for the goblins, they were being more suicidal than usual.

He wasn’t given long to ponder on that, however, as a roar erupted from the tunnels along the far side of the cavern.  Even as the initial wave of goblins began to fall to the ground, bleeding and broken.  Sean’s gaze shot up, his eyes widening as he saw the monsters that were now charging the line.

They were goblins – technically.  But it looked like someone had taken one of their weaker, thinner members, pumped it full of steroids, and locked it in the gym.  Each creature was well over six feet tall, their bodies covered in rippling muscle.  And unlike their smaller counterparts, these beasts were wrapped in crudely welded metal from head to toe.  Plates covered their head, chest, arms, legs, and feet, punctuated with sharp spikes at each joint.  Their fingers were wrapped around the hilts of massive double-bladed axes, the goblins swinging those ridiculous weapons like they barely weighed anything at all.

A quick inspection revealed a different name.

“Hobgoblins,” Seam murmured to himself.

Then, more frantic, “Form up now!  Switch to spears.”

His raid members moved to follow his orders, the frontline raising their shields to form a wall of metal, and the second line sheathed their swords, pulling the spears from their back and pointing the tips between the shields.  They typically used this formation against the larger wildlife in the jungle.  At a nod from Sean, the air mage beside him relayed instructions to her colleagues.  With a twitch of their fingers, lightning suddenly wrapped the raid members’ shields – their hands insulated with thick leather wraps – and electricity soon crackled along the metal, lighting the cave in flickering relief.

Yet the hobgoblins never slowed, pounding forward to that familiar drumbeat that shook the floor.  The travelers shifted uncomfortably.  Sean could practically hear their thoughts – echoing his own.  These weren’t just goblins…

His fists clenched.  But either way, this still wouldn’t be enough.

A resounding boom was the first warning Sean received.

In a blur of motion and a crackle of lightning, a blade appeared in his hands, neatly deflecting the missile that had been aimed at his head.  He looked up as more blasts echoed through the cavern, the noise rebounding off the walls until it was almost deafening.

“Oh, fuck,” Sean ground out as he caught sight of the sniper.

Or “snipers” might have been more accurate.  Large wooden panels had opened up along the cavern walls, situated at least 15 fifteen feet up the cave, forming makeshift ledges.  And smaller goblins filled those little sniper nests, crouching behind a sturdy wooden half-wall and resting their rifles on its surface.  The other side of those panels must have been camouflaged because Sean sure as hell hadn’t noticed them.

Although, he was just now realizing that he hadn’t been looking either.

A barrage of missiles whistled through the air, accompanied by the boom of those rifles.  Several of the mages beside Sean dropped to the ground, blood pouring from the holes that now riddled their corpses.  And as those casters fell, some of the lightning infusing the front-line’s shields faltered.  Acting quickly, Sean began summoning his own mana.  Electricity crackled along his hands before spearing outward in an expanding ring, forming a dome of energy around their group.  Bullets plinked against the surface, only to stop short before falling to the ground.

Magnetic Dome.  It was counter against those damn guns if his usual tactics failed…

The hobgoblins struck the front line like a damn tidal wave.  They waded into the shields with zero regard for themselves, swinging those gigantic axes in wide arcs.  One of those blades struck an electrified shield, lightning crackling up the hilt.  Yet it only seemed to lock the goblin’s fingers tighter around the weapon, and the blow sent the smaller human soldier flying into the man beside him, knocking them both out of position.

The goblins followed up on that break in the line, cutting down the soldiers in droves, their screams and cries of pain suddenly filling the cavern.  A few bolted for the edge of the Magnetic Dome, only to be cut down in a hail of gunfire from those sniper nests.

For his part, Sean could only look on in horror as his teammates fell.

We’re… we’re losing.  He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing, yet the pain didn’t stop there.

A cry went up from behind Sean, and he whirled to find a skinny goblin – its knife plunged deep into an air mage’s throat.  The woman’s eyes were wide and wild, her mouth moving and her hand reaching for Sean, as though asking for help.  Except Sean couldn’t do shit.  More of those damn goblins were spawning in behind the raid, clutching at crude knives and ill-formed hatchets they must have tucked away behind their makeshift clothing.  Yet, no matter how roughshod their weapons, they were enough to kill.  Especially with the travelers’ backs to them.

Then Sean was moving, shaking off his shock.

He shot forward in a blaze of speed, his swords both in hand.  In the span of only a few seconds, a dozen goblins fell to the ground, their heads following close behind.

That initial wave was a fucking feint? Sean thought, fury raging through his veins now.  They’d sacrificed themselves to flank the raid, the goblins using their quick respawn to their own advantage.  How the hell did they think of that?

Something was wildly wrong here.

Not that it mattered.  The damage was already done.  The front line was destabilized.  They’d lost too many mages, the lightning fully disappearing from what was left of the shield wall.  And the hobgoblins were cutting through the remaining soldiers.  Those snipers were also still out there, picking off anyone stupid or desperate enough to leave Sean’s Magnetic Dome.

His thoughts were racing, trying to tamp down on his anger.

Think, damn it.  What’s my move?

They were trapped.  Sean was still alive and in good health, but he couldn’t take on all of the goblins solo, especially not these hulking metal assholes and those snipers.  It was impossible.  And even if he could stay alive, his mana was dropping fast.  He wasn’t spec’d to maintain that Magnetic Dome for long.  Once his mana was gone, he’d have nothing left to maintain his enhanced speed and reflexes either.  But if that shield dropped before his teammates respawned, they’d be easy picking for the snipers – disoriented by their respawn and brutal deaths and effectively locked in place.

In an instant, Sean realized what he needed to do with the time he had left.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he stabbed a goblin in the throat as it respawned, then holstered that sword and swiped at the air, pulling up his in-game voice chat.  As the call rang in his ear, he was forced to blaze a path around the back of the cavern, weaving and dodging and picking off the goblins that respawned even as he eyeballed what was left of the frontline, hoping those few survivors could buy him some time.

“Fucking pick up!” he raged as he sliced through another goblin.

A few seconds later, a voice finally spoke into his ear.

“Hey, Sean, what’s up?” Nova drawled.

“About fucking time,” Sean snapped.  “What took you so long?”

“Woof.  Someone’s in a mood.  Believe it or not, I don’t just wait around for your—”

“I don’t have fucking time to banter,” Sean interrupted, grunting as he deflected a bullet that had made it through his Magnetic Dome, the metal pinging off his sword.  The damn barrier thing was already beginning to flicker and fade as his mana bottomed out.

Only a few more seconds left.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.  “Are you… are you fighting right now?  I mean, I’ve heard of multi-tasking, but even for you, this is a bit much.”

“Har-fucking-har,” Sean snapped, twisting out of the way as another batch of goblins respawned near him, swinging their weapons wildly even as they stepped out of those glowing rifts.  The damn greenskins didn’t seem affected by dying at all.

“Wait… what the hell is going on?” Nova asked in a distracted voice.  “Guild chat is blowing up—”  She cut herself short.  “Oh.  Oh shit.  You’re kind of fucked, aren’t you?”

He’d been hoping his dead guildmates would help clue her in.

“Yeah, no shit,” Sean breathed, his lungs sucking in sweet, sweet air.  A glance at his UI showed his stamina was also beginning to wane.  He was running out of time.  “We’re trapped in a cave in this raid dungeon with an army of goblins.  Good news is the rest of the raid is still outside and the goblins are trapped with us.  But the force outside is going to need some help clearing the cave-in.  A lot of help.”

“Can’t you just respawn?” Nova asked in confusion.

“No.  Second respawn zone,” Sean bit out, stabbing another goblin… only to feel a bullet pierce his shoulder, jerking him to the side and blood leaking down his arm.  “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Well, I suppose I could help.  You know, if you ask nicely,” Nova taunted him.

I’m going to fucking kill her next time I see her, Sean thought to himself.

Yet he managed to swallow his pride – even if it cost him.

“Pretty fucking please, okay?” Sean grunted.

“Ahh, that’s so sweet.  Sure.  I’ll definitely come save your ass.  Just make sure you’re wearing the dress.  I like my damsels with a certain—”

Nova never got to finish that sentence as Sean cut the connection.

He turned, his chest heaving, blood dripping from a half dozen wounds and scratches, his swords clutched in either hand.  He was alone now.

Sean stood in the flickering remains of his Magnetic Dome, an army of greenskins lingering all around him, staring with those beady yellow eyes.  Their gaze was filled with a bottomless rage.  The product of dozens, maybe even hundreds of deaths at his hands.  Skinnier goblins hovered between those massive metal juggernauts, their axes dented and chipped and covered in his teammates’ blood.  And those raid members lay all around him now, their eyes staring and vacant, his feet ankle-deep in gore, a bloody river that wound back down the tunnels.

As the dome of electricity began to fade further, Sean tapped out one final order to the raid.

Then his eyes shifted back to the horde of goblins.  “Fuck you!”

The lightning finally disappeared as his mana pool bottomed out, and the goblins took that as their signal.  They rushed forward, racing toward Sean – a lone man against a gods damned army.  And in the face of that rage, that bloodlust, that mound of flesh and muscle and fury, he used the last move he had left…

With a flicker of multi-colored light, Sean logged out.

Chapter 31 - Heist!

“You call this fucking easy!?” Adrian shouted up at Dom, the wind whipping away his words almost before they escaped his mouth.

Dom paused a moment, sparing a look down at Adrian.  They were perched thousands of feet above the ground, fingers digging into rough rock and waning sunlight shining down upon them.  They had a few more hours until sunset.  A strong breeze blew past the mountain, Dom’s stiff leather armor barely budging – a gift from the goblins.

Adrian had insisted they needed disguises.

Every good heist movie had disguises, after all…

Or, at least, so the bard had told him.  Dozens of times.

He was about ready to pitch him back down the mountain.

“We’re almost there.  And your stamina is fine,” Dom called back without looking, not needing to worry about anyone overhearing them.  This side of Aislen had little foot traffic, and he doubted anyone was going to be on the lookout for someone free climbing up the side of the mountain where the city was perched.  All the guards and defenses were on the city’s eastern edge, where the rope bridges spanned out toward the other islands.

Although, Dom had noticed the coil of dust and smoke drifting up into the air from the northeast.  He could only assume the other members of <The Jackals> had seen the same.  The goblins must have blown the tunnel.  Without an easy way to communicate with them, Dom was just going to have to trust that they’d followed his plan and that Sean and his raid members were now trapped in that cave.

If everything went to plan, <The Jackals> should be sending out a rescue party soon.

And, if not, well, Dom and Adrian were in for a rough trip.

With that dire thought, he took a breath and continued climbing ever upward.

A few minutes later, the rock gave way to worn wood, Dom picking his way up the side of a building that had been constructed directly up against the cliff edge – the city’s inhabitants making use of every inch of space available to them.  He pulled himself up to one of the windows, freezing as his eyes met those of a small girl playing with what appeared to be a crude stuffed animal.  She couldn’t have been more than five years old, surprise flitting across her face.

Dom pressed a finger to his lips.  “Shh, I’m a friend,” he urged her.  He thought fast.  “Do you like animals?” he asked, gesturing at her toys.

The girl nodded ever so slightly, clearly nervous about this massive stranger perched outside her window.  That was fair.  “Well, I have the cutest bird you’ve ever seen,” Dom explained.  “Do you mind if I come inside and show you?”

The girl pondered on that for a second before agreeing.

Dom took that as his cue, lifting himself inside the room and gingerly lowering the big sack tied to his back.  The bag twitched and moved, a faint cluck coming from within.  As Dom pulled back the drawstring, Wingman emerged, shaking herself grumpily and clucking at Dom as though to reprimand him for the rough ride.

“Sorry,” he offered.  “But you should introduce yourself to…” he trailed off, looking to the girl – who was now staring at the oversized chicken in wonder.  “What’s your name?”

“Luna,” she murmured shyly.

“That’s such a pretty name.  Luna, this is Wingman.  Wingman this is Luna,” Dom introduced the pair, giving Adrian a warning look as the bard’s head crested the window – already anticipating his typical, loud bitching.

Wingman caught on fast, eyeballing the girl and then pacing toward her.  Luna lifted a hand, stroking her feathers, and the chicken melted into her fingers, perching down and her eyes drooping into half-lidded bliss.  Luna just smiled.

“Quick thinking,” Adrian murmured to Dom as he pulled himself inside.

“No kidding.  One scream, and we would’ve been screwed,” he shot back under his breath.  That had been a longer climb than anticipated – even for them.  Despite his reassurances earlier, they were both nearly out of stamina from scaling the cliff.

“On the other hand, I guess we’re at least getting some use out of our Climbing skill,” Adrian muttered.  That climb would have been impossible without their training harvesting ingredients out in the jungle.  It had been more than a thousand feet from the base of the mountain without ropes or breaks.

Adrian glanced at his UI, a frown pulling at lips.  “Although, we need to get moving soon.  Don’t know how long it’ll take <The Jackals> to bail out Sean’s raid.”

Dom just grunted in acknowledgment.

The bard looked back to Dom, inspecting him carefully.  Crude leather armor covered most of his scars, and the goblins had even been kind enough to provide a cloak.  Still, it wasn’t enough to hide his identity.  Adrian clucked his tongue.  “This won’t do at all.  So, I was saving this as a present, but…”

Adrian trailed off as he pulled something out of his own bag.  “The Gambler might have helped me a bit with this.  He said he owed you one for brokering a deal with the goblins.”

“Did he now?” Dom asked, skepticism coloring his voice.

Adrian smirk.  “Okay, I might have helped persuade him.”

As Dom looked down, he saw the bard was holding a simple mask.  It was made of lightweight material, the surface lacquered a bright white.  However, it was the design that captured Dom’s attention.  A crude red smiley face had been painted onto the mask, a lone crimson tear dripping from one eye.

Dom looked up at Adrian, raising an eyebrow – his question unspoken.

“Hey, don’t look at me!  That design was the God of Happiness’ idea.  He said it would help with branding our new business, and that not even you should be able to break this damn thing – whatever that means.”  Adrian stared down at the mask.  “If you ask me, it actually captures your spirit pretty well,” he added with a chuckle.

Dom just shot him a glare.  But he grudgingly accepted the mask, settling it across his face and securing it with two leather straps before tugging his hood back into place.  He supposed it was still worth it.  If the guild realized Dom was involved, they’d likely go out of their way to hunt him down – and their vendetta might not end in the digital world.  They also likely didn’t have any footage of him at this point.  Honestly, why bother?  Not that he was that worried about his safety, not with his life on the line anyway.

His gaze shot to the bard – there was still Adrian to worry about.

Even if Dom sometimes wanted to kill him himself.

His thoughts were interrupted as two prompts appeared before him.

New Passive Skill:  Disguise

While far from an expert in the art of concealment, you’ve met the bare minimum for concealing your identity.  At higher levels, your disguise will be almost impenetrable. This skill extends to disguises created for other players, NPCs, and summoned creatures.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  5% increased authenticity to your costumes and mannerisms while disguised.

Smile!

Crafted from an unknown material, you can barely feel this mask against your skin.  People might not recognize you while wearing this… they just might think you’re insane.  But isn’t that all part of your public persona?

Quality:  A

Durability:  Indestructible/Auto Repair

The wearer's face is always obscured even when the mask is damaged.

The mask will repair any damage automatically.

The wearer’s player tags are permanently hidden while the mask is worn.

(Soulbound)

Dom’s brow furrowed.  The indestructible feature was nice – even if the mask didn’t add any stats.  And the way it concealed his identity and disabled his tags would be useful.  Although, he should test that first.

“Can you see any tags?” Dom asked the bard.

Adrian cocked his head.  “Uh, sort of?  It says your name is… Smiles now?”  A faint grin ghosted across the bard’s face.  “Good to know that grumpy jerk of a god has a sense of humor, and I can’t say I hate the imagery.  It would make for a great video.  Actually, where was the recording feature on this damn thing again?” Adrian muttered, waving at the air.

Dom just let out a sigh.  Perfect.  Now he wanted to record their first heist.

Either way, they didn’t have time to mess around right now.

Dom turned back to Luna and Wingman, stooping down.  “Okay, we need to go.  Thanks for letting us visit with you, Luna.”  Wingman clucked his appreciation as the girl pat him goodbye.

Then Dom opened his bag again.  The chicken glared at the cloth but grudgingly stepped inside.  There was little choice.  It was either leave her back at the goblin village or hide her in the sack.  Unfortunately, Wingman was just too iconic around Aislen.

“Bye-bye, birdie,” Luna called out.

Then the pair stepped back toward the window, Dom half dragging Adrian along as he continued looking for his recording tools.  He had to resist the urge once again to send him flying headfirst toward the ground.  A moment later, they’d disappeared, swiftly scaling the side of the building until they reached the rooftop.  They were now more than three stories above the streets of Aislen, their perch providing an unimpeded view of the city – one most travelers never got to experience.  Adrian highlighted the guild hall on their map, a yellow icon appearing in the distance.

With a look at one another, Dom and Adrian flitted forward silently, padding along the rooftops with nimble steps as they headed directly toward the waypoint marker.  Their sure footing was another product of their extensive training.  This wasn’t any more challenging than running along tree branches.  Hell, if anything, it was a lot easier.

For example, nothing was trying to kill them at the moment.  They just needed to hide their presence from the foot traffic on the streets below.

It wasn’t long before the pair was positioned on the roof across from the guild hall, eyeing the building.  Like many of the buildings in Aislen, it was also several stories tall.  Except this structure stretched down most of the street – a truly colossal affair.  It was also clearly marked, <The Jackals> logo painted across the side of the warehouse.  Their guess was that there should be at least a hundred or so guild members inside at any given time, the group mostly comprised of crafters and support staff.  Although, there should be some armed and armored travelers training inside and guarding the structure.

The street outside was also bustling with activity.  Travelers swarmed the entrance and the road, dressed for battle in thick chainmail and weapons strapped to their backs.  The pair pressed themselves flat against the roof tiles, silently watching as they hid behind the crest of the roof.  Minutes ticked past as the new raid group formed up, and an air mage barked out orders with a flash of amber energy – a serious-looking woman in her early thirties if Dom had to hazard a guess.  Then the raid set off toward the city’s gate to the east.

“Seems your plan worked,” Adrian commented with a grin.  “And it looks like we have more time than we thought.”

Dom wasn’t quite as amused.  “Looks like it.  But now we need to handle the hard part.”

Adrian’s expression sobered, and the pair flitted around the structure, examining it from each side and looking for a good entry point.  They soon settled against another rooftop to regroup and let their stamina regenerate.

“That third-story window looks like a good entry point,” Adrian offered, highlighting a window on the other side of the warehouse facing the alley at the back of the building.  It was located roughly along the center of the structure.  “I’ve heard most of the goods are stored in an underground storage area, so you’ll need to make your way downstairs.”

At Dom’s questioning look, the bard shrugged.  “What?  I may have been doing some catfishing online while you handled all that crap with the goblins.  The crafters bitch… a lot.  Plus, it’s a heist!  If I’d have had my own montage sequence, you’d totally understand.”

“A montage of you surfing the web and finding me new clothes?” Dom asked.

“Yep.  And you’re welcome,” the bard replied with pause.

Another sigh escaped Dom’s lips.  “Okay, sure.  Anyway, you stay here as lookout,” Dom finally grunted as he checked his gear.

“Are you kidding?  I just get to watch?” Adrian shot back.  “After all this work?  And after getting you that awesome new present,” he trailed off, looking forlornly at another ivory mask in his hand, the edge just peeking out of his bag.  “But it’s my first heist.”

“It’s safer this way,” Dom replied curtly, hefting the bag on his back.  It was just a regular cloth sack, but inside were all of their nicely-labeled storage bags… and, well, Wingman.  He eyed the bard’s crestfallen appearance.  “Besides, all good heists have lookouts.  And if this goes sideways, I can toss you the loot or leave it in the alley below us and lead them away from your location so you can head to the auction house.  Worst case, I’ll just kill myself.”

Adrian’s mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to form a counter-argument.

“Fine,” the bard finally muttered, shoving his mask back into his bag.  “I guess you get to have all the fun.”

Dom shook his head.  “If this goes according to plan, there won’t be any fun.  I’m just going to slip in, steal their shit, and get the hell out of there.  The goal is to avoid raising an alarm.”

He turned to find Adrian staring at him with a deadpan expression.  “Uh-huh, sure.  Because you’ve always been so discreet.”

“First time for everything, isn’t there?” Dom shot back with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah.  Good luck.  I’ll just be sitting here twiddling my thumbs,” Adrian muttered.  Then he perked up.  “Oh shit, you know what?  I could have gotten Whistleknot to make us a getaway car!  Now that’s heist material.”

Dom rolled his eyes.  He could feel a headache coming on.

He also needed to move, not waste more time on this.

He pushed himself upright, racing down the rooftop, leaping to another building, and circling the guild hall.  Once he was across from the alley, he jumped to the other side, catching the lip of the guild hall’s roof.  The movement was easier than he’d imagined.  This would have been impossible in real life.  Hell, it would have been impossible in-game just a few short weeks ago.  Now, it was as effortless as breathing.  Dom looked down, seeing the windowsill about 8-10 feet below him.  Taking a breath, he let go, falling rapidly and just barely catching himself on the sill, the wood creaking and groaning in protest.

Dom didn’t wait for the wood to crumble under his weight, hauling himself inside.

He paused on the other side.  He was in a dark room, the door closed.  As his Night Vision kicked in, Dom could see this was a kitchen, ovens and stovetops lining the walls and a few worktables located in the center of the room.  A rack of meat hung off to one side, perched inside a large smoker.  It seemed the guild was also leveling their Cooking skills.  Probably for the buffs.

A few seconds later, Adrian confirmed through the chat that no one had seen him.

Although, Dom had another problem…

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (-10.4).

Uh, so you’ve heard of spontaneous combustion, right?  Let’s just say you’re feeling warmer than normal at the moment…

Damn it, Dom thought to himself.

He’d been hoping for a luck bonus, what with him being unarmed around dozens of <The Jackals>.  Either the players in this guild hall were really low levels or the game was reducing the risk to Dom since the travelers were unaware of his presence.  He could almost hear the Gambler laughing right now – no doubt the small business owner streaming this so-called heist for the goblins back in the casino.

There was nothing for it, though.

Dom slipped forward, stepping across the room, and opening the door with a creak.  He sat there, eyes closed and ears straining.  He could pick out the sound of movement on the floor but not much else.  He hadn’t had a chance to train his hearing yet.

It doesn’t sound like there’s much going on up here.  I should be able to slip past them and…

He was interrupted as he heard a faint scratching behind him.  Dom whirled to find Wingman had freed herself from the bag and wandered across the kitchen.  She was perched on a worktable, eyeballing the smoker sitting on a table in the corner – the vapor vented outside through a thick pipe.  She was too short to reach the metal cylinder easily from the floor.  But from the table?  That was another story, altogether.  She wiggled her tail feathers, bouncing between her feet in anticipation.

In that moment, their gaze met, and time froze.

Dom knew what she was going to try to do.

Wingman knew he was going to try to stop her.

“Please don’t,” Dom hissed, surging forward.

But he was too late.  Far, far too late.

Wingman shot forward in a blur of movement.  In her haste to avoid Dom, she had badly misjudged the amount of force in her jump.  She slammed against the smoker, the impact letting out a loud clang as though she’d just struck a gods-damned gong.  Dom’s fingers settled around her feathers as he struck the floor, holding her in place.

Dom went still.  I really hope no one heard that…

Yet as the seconds ticked past, there was no movement or shouts of alarm.

Dom started to breathe out a sigh of relief when he felt Wingman squirm in his arms, clucking excitedly, and her eyes laser-focused on the smoker.  He looked up, and his mouth dropped open.

Wingman had managed to knock the smoker nearly off the table, the metal now tipping over the edge ever-so-slowly under the inevitable pull of gravity.  Wingman struggled in his grip, trying to break free, and the reason for that was obvious.  The hatch on the side had opened, spilling smoke into the kitchen, rich with the smell of roasted meat.

“Oh fuck—” Dom managed, letting go of the chicken as he tried vainly to catch the smoker.

It was completely and utterly hopeless.

The smoker hit the ground, letting out an enormous crash that likely would have alerted anyone inside the guild hall, assuming it had stopped there.

But Dom’s bad luck decided to skyrocket again…

So, instead of just crashing onto the floor, the smoker crashed through the damn floor, the dry and aged wood splintering.  Most of the buildings in Aislen were on the older side, after all.

And the smoker just kept going.

Dom winced as he heard it crash through the floor below him…

Then the one below that…

Then through the ground floor and into the basement…

The smoker finally landed with an epic crash, the sound of several hundred pounds of metal falling through three stories and landing against solid stone.  Dom just sat there for a moment, frozen in shock.  Then he shook it off, forcing himself to look down at the hole that had been carved straight through the middle of the guild hall.

As Dom peered through that opening, he saw that many members of <The Jackals> hovered around the holes on each floor – staring in surprise at the new tunnel Dom had accidentally installed for them.  Then, as one, they all looked up, meeting Dom’s gaze.

“Uh, your lunch sure smelled great,” he offered weakly.

That was apparently enough to break the sudden calm.  Shouts of alarm echoed through the building and up through Wingman’s new, makeshift tunnel – accompanied by the screech of scraping metal and the sizzle of spells being hurled up out of that hole.  Dom pulled back from the opening as lightning speared through the air, crashing into the ceiling and sparking the wood ablaze.  He could hear more of the guild members beginning to thunder up the stairs toward his position, their armor loudly announcing their presence along either side of the floor.

So much for being discreet.  Dom grimaced as he had another realization.  Adrian was going to be completely insufferable after this.

Yet there wasn’t much he could do about that now – he had to finish their mission.  So, Dom made the only move he had left.  He grabbed Wingman, pulled her tight to his chest, snatched his bag from the floor… and, well, he jumped down the hole.

Chapter 32 - Immolation

Dom sped downward, racing past bolts of whistling and crackling mana and the surprised faces of <The Jackals>.  The men and women stationed here clearly had not expected him to leap down 4 stories.  One guy actually managed to snag Dom as he fell, grabbing onto his armor – only to be hauled down the hole with him.  Dom promptly punched him in the face, and the man’s head lolled back as he went unconscious.  Dom shifted in the air just before impact.  The traveler’s body slammed into the metal husk of the smoker with a wet thump, and his chest caved in.

But he didn’t die in vain.  The man managed to blunt Dom’s fall.  He rolled as he struck the ground, coming back up in a crouch and dropping Wingman.  He turned to see the traveler bleeding out – very much dead, a familiar coin perched beside him.  Dom swiped it.  As he did so, a buff icon appeared in the corner of his vision as Roll the Dice activated, increasing his luck, damage and damage resistance.  He’d have to keep picking up these damn coins… at least every 15 seconds to maintain the stacks.  That was going to be distracting as hell in the middle of a fight.

“Thanks, buddy,” he grunted at the body, shoving the coin in his pocket.

Then he looked around the cellar.  It stretched the length of the warehouse, a few thousand square feet filled with all manner of loot.  The room was lined with thick wooden shelves that held all manner of gear, ingredients, and weapons.  A massive stack of barrels lined the far wall – possibly mass-produced potions?  And along one wall was a staircase – presumably leading further up into the guild, the portal locked tight with a dense metal grating.

So, it might have been pretty hard to break in here under more normal circumstances, Dom thought to himself.  Maybe Wingman might have helped him out, although he wasn’t going to admit that right now.  Not with shouts in the distance growing louder, the travelers starting to marshal themselves.  It wouldn’t be long until they made their way down here.

Dom dropped his sack, opening the drawstring and pulling out multi-colored bags, arranging them along the floor.  Then he looked to Wingman, only to find her rooting around the smoker and pecking at scraps of meat to the ting, ting, ting of beak on metal.

“Hey, get over here!” Dom growled.  She looked up in surprise and then waddled over.  “I need you to fill these bags.  Just like when we harvest mats.  I’m going to have to handle the travelers.  Got it?”

She stared back, cocking her head toward the smoker.

Dom sighed.  “I’ll give you way more meat than that if you help me right now.”

She suddenly clucked enthusiastically and began sprinting down the shelves, snatching at the loot and tossing it into a pile near the bags.  After their farming in the jungle, she was more than capable of handling this task – usually filling their bags while Dom and Adrian distracted the many, many different creatures that were trying to kill them.

Dom could already hear feet thundering down the staircase.

He glanced at the smoker, the lid ripped off, and the cage dented horribly.  Thinking quickly, he grabbed at the lid and lifted it, letting out a hiss of pain as the slowly cooling metal seared his skin.  Upon lifting it, the contents of the smoker were strewn across the floor, including the coal.  Smoke curled into the air where the glowing red embers touched one of the shelves.  If it caught fire…

“Fuck—” Dom began, but he whipped around as he heard the door’s grate screech open behind him.

He had a more pressing problem right now.

He flung the heated metal lid at the stairs like a frisbee, the panel slicing through a traveler’s leg.  Then Dom was on top of him in an instant, hauling up the man’s body just in time for a barrage of arrows to pepper his back – more travelers stationed at the top of the stairs.  When the volley slowed, he hurled the player’s corpse at them.  The archers were clearly not expecting him to be able to toss around that much weight, and they collapsed under the body, straining to get free.

Dom didn’t give them a chance.

He sprung forward in a blur, crushing one player’s head with his heel before punching out another.  Collecting the coins along the way, his Roll the Dice stacks continuing to climb.  The seconds were constantly ticking down on the buff icon, telling him just how much time he had left to kill another – collect another coin.

He felt a line of burning pain in his shoulder, and Dom looked down to see a throwing knife embedded in his arm, the tip only penetrating an inch with his Iron Skin.  He grimaced and pulled it free, the traveler below him looking up with wide, terror-filled eyes.  Then Dom flicked the knife down, the blade spearing through the player’s throat.

A crackle of flame was Dom’s only warning that another attack was coming.

Acting on instinct, he rolled back down the stairs and lifted the smoker lid from the dead player.  Flames wafted across the metal, streaming back into the basement, singing the wooden staircase, and lighting the banister on fire.  Not that it mattered.  Judging from the smoke that was now streaming up the stairs, the coal from the smoker had already lit the shelving.

Still, what the hell were they thinking hurling Fireballs in here?

“Fucking idiots,” Dom growled out.

He pushed back up the stairs, using the now flaming smoker lid as a makeshift shield.  He closed on the mage quickly, the woman trying vainly to flee back up the stairs.  But the crush of travelers stomping down into the cellar stopped her.  She turned, flames curling around her wand as she prepared to cast another spell.

Dom abruptly dropped his makeshift shield, grabbed her wrist, and twisted her around in one fluid movement just as a Fireball sprang from the tip of her wand.  The woman’s eyes went wide as she saw the flames jet back towards her teammates – the travelers unable to dodge in the narrow stairwell.  Their chainmail and leather armor did little to stop the fire.  If anything, the padding beneath their armor just acted as kindling.  The players let out screams of agony as they dropped to the ground, tumbling down the stairs and slamming into the stone floor.

The woman angled herself to stare up at Dom’s grinning mask in fear.

“Sorry about this,” Dom muttered.  Then he snapped her neck…

And caught another coin as it fell to the ground.

As he waited there, dented and seared smoker lid in hand and fires burning along the staircase, he strained to hear any other sound of movement.  As the seconds ticked past, he heard nothing.  Good.  He’d bought them a small window.  Somehow.

So, Dom retreated down into the cellar.  “How are we coming along…”

Dom trailed off as he witnessed the scene in the basement.  Wingman had collected most of the loot in a giant pile, now swiftly sorting and placing the gear in the appropriately colored bags.  However, it was the image behind her that caused his heart to stutter.  Flames danced along most of the shelves, stretching out across the cellar swiftly.  Billowing waves of smoke now drifted through the room, pooling along the ceiling in a massive cloud.

And those flames were drifting ever closer to the giant barrels along the far wall.  Now that Dom had a spare moment, he could see something pooling below more than a few of those casks.  A shiny liquid with a technicolor tinge.  It must be something that didn’t evaporate easily…

Like oil, Dom realized suddenly, a weight settling in his stomach.

More travelers were pounding down the stairs behind him now, and Wingman hadn’t finished collecting and sorting all of the loot.  But that didn’t matter.  Not anymore.

Dom dove forward, dropping the lid and grabbing at the smoker.  He hauled the damn thing upright, crouching behind it and shoving Wingman and her bags inside.  The other loot was a lost cause now – whatever she’d gathered would have to be good enough.

The chicken squirmed, likely trying to finish her task to get her treats.  “Stay put, Wingman!” Dom growled, and her movements slowed.

The travelers finally charged down the stairs, only to slow as they took in the chaos in the cellar, the flames rocketing through the air… and Dom crouched behind a gods damned smoker full of the loot they had managed to grab and Wingman.  She was climbing out of the smoker and onto Dom’s knee, offering a welcoming cluck in greeting.  Then, as one, the travelers turned to look in the direction Dom was facing – at the row of oil barrels and the flames racing toward them.

“Shit,” one of the players muttered.

The others tried to turn to flee.  One of the mages even started to cast an air shield.

But it was all futile.

As the flames lit the contents of one of those barrels, an enormous blast suddenly rocked the far side of the cellar, and the wood blew apart in a fiery torrent.  Then another.  And another.  Flames swept out through the cellar in a wave, scorching the stone, searing the already burnt and crumbling shelves, and obscuring the entire side of the basement in a wall of fire.

The flames crashed around Dom, the metal blunting the impact and his muscles straining as he held out against the fires.  The travelers weren’t as fortunate.  They let out screams of pain – their cries cut off after only a few seconds as the flames consumed them.  Even those that had started back upstairs were unable to avoid the fire.

Even so, it wasn’t enough.  Dom was sliding backward from the force of the blasts, his ears ringing and bleeding and his vision swimming from the smoke.  Acting quickly in that brief window, he raised the smoker, flames searing the skin along his ankles and feet.  Then he slammed it down, cutting into the stone and lodging it in place.  Yet the flames just kept coming, the metal heating to a dull red.  Then a bright red.  His hands were burning – the skin flaying, flesh peeling back to reveal muscle and bone.

Wingman huddled next to him and gave a worried cluck, eyeing the metal nervously.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dom grunted.  “This is your fault.”

A single, timid cluck was his only response.

If they survived this, he was going to increase her training.  A lot.

***

Dom stumbled out of the front door of the guild hall several minutes later, Wingman trotting at his heels and thick gray smoke billowing out around them.  A bag was slung over his shoulder, the weight considerable even with the reduction from the many, many bags stored inside.  Each footstep sunk into the dirt and cobblestones – a lesser man might have collapsed under the weight, dropping to his knees and his spine buckling.

Dom was tempted.  His leather armor was still smoking, a few embers not having gone out entirely.  And the skin along his back wasn’t in much better shape.  It was seared a bright red, large welts covering any exposed flesh – a souvenir from his adventure, he supposed.  A notification flickered in front of him as though taunting him.

New Passive Skill:  Fire Resistance

Huh, you literally leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire.  But at least you smell delicious…

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  -5% Fire Damage

Dom swiped the notice aside, flinching as another explosion rocked the building behind him, the wood creaking and snapping as the structure’s supporting columns began to give way.  It was no wonder after the smoker, and the explosions… oh, and then there was the oil fire that was swiftly spreading to the upper floors, smoke coiling up into the sky above Aislen.

He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, sucking in sweet, fresh air.  Luckily, his Breathing Techniques had given him more than enough lung capacity to weather the smoke.  No such luck for the other members of <The Jackals>, though.  Those few that had been lucky or strong enough to survive the explosions and the flames had asphyxiated, their bodies slumped to the ground along the smoke-filled hallways as Dom made his way outside.

Wingman let out a hopeful cluck.

“We aren’t talking right now,” Dom grunted back at her.

She hung her head sadly.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Adrian piped up as Dom approached the mouth of the alley across the street, their rendezvous point.  “Is this your version of being discreet?”

Dom just glared at him but then let out a sigh, turning back to survey the damage.

Only to gape in shock.  It was a little worse than he’d expected.  The entire building was on fire.  One side of the structure had already collapsed.  Another blast rocked an upper floor, flames jetting out of a third-story window.  And even worse?  Limbs and body parts were strewn across the street, likely those travelers that had been caught in the explosions and blown clear of the warehouse.  Blood was splattered all along the cobblestones.

But what caught his attention was the red smiley face painted across the side of the flaming structure – overtop <The Jackal’s> logo – a single red teardrop coiling away from one eye, a perfect match for Dom’s new mask.

“Where did that come from?” Dom muttered.  A pause.  “Wait, is that… blood?”

He turned back to Adrian with a questioning look, the bard not so discreetly dropping a severed arm behind his back where it landed with a wet thud.  “Uh, maybe.  But more importantly, it’s marketing.  We’ve gotta establish your brand remember?  That’s critical for any startup… increase awareness… and uh, such,” he offered feebly, waving at the street.

Dom followed his gesture to see that a massive crowd was forming in the road, a mixture of residents and travelers gawking at the flaming structure and the macabre smiley face painted across its side.  They muttered to themselves, their eyes on that burning structure as Dom and Adrian pulled farther back into the alley.

“You were supposed to keep a low profile,” Dom ground out.

“Yeah, about that.  I might have gotten bored.  But this really isn’t the time to bicker,” he quickly added as Dom scowled at him.  “Maybe we should get the hell out of here?”

“No kidding,” Dom replied, handing off his sack.

Adrian grabbed at the cloth, only for it to immediately sink to the ground, leaving an impression in the mixture of stone and dirt.  “Holy shit,” Adrian grunted, struggling to lift the sack.  “Did you steal an entire armory?” he muttered.

“Something like that,” Dom replied evenly.  “You head for the auction house.  Take Wingman with you.  And watch her.  She’s in trouble right now.”

Another sad cluck came from his side.

“Sure, but, uh, what are you going to do?” Adrian asked hesitantly, looking between Dom and the oversized chicken.

Dom waved at a group of the <The Jackals> marching down the road at a run, metal clanking and their voices filling the air.  The word was out now – the only saving grace was that these were likely the lower-level members of the guild since Dom and Adrian had lured out Sean’s raid and the reinforcements sent to save him.

“I’m going to create a distraction,” Dom answered with a heavy sigh.

Then he rotated the bard and shoved him down the alley.

“Now, get the hell out of here.  I’ll meet you back at the goblin camp.”

Adrian spared one last worried look at him before he slung the bag over his shoulder and took off at a fast walk – all he could manage with the weight – Wingman trotting sullenly at his heels.  The bard would likely loop around, making sure no one was following him before making a beeline toward the auction house.

Dom would just need to buy him some time.  10-15 minutes at least.

He stretched his neck, hearing bones pop and crack.  Stepping back out into the street, Dom stood directly in the center of the road, facing down the oncoming group of <The Jackals>.  These men and women weren’t caught off guard.  They were armed and armored, a row of mages standing behind them.  He was just going to have to get their attention.

Dom shrugged off the burnt fragments of his leather armor – the material barely clinging to his skin now after braving the fires – revealing his muscled limbs and the thick scars that crisscrossed his torso, arms, and legs.  For the most part, his skin had already knitted itself back together after the burns.  He raised his head to the sky and bellowed a Challenging Roar.  The sound stretched out across the street in a concussive wave, physically shoving aside the smoke and fire along the guild warehouse – the flames casting long shadows across him.

The guild members slowed as they caught sight of Dom, forming up into ranks.  The frontline lowered heavy metal shields as the row of mages behind them summoned their mana – amber, orange, sapphire, and emerald energy coiling around them.  They stared at Dom, their knuckles white where they clutched at their weapons, more than a few blades trembling in the air.

All eyes were on Dom where he stood in the middle of the street.  A lone man.  His body covered in soot and blood.  Barehanded.  A living juggernaut that had single-handedly destroyed the flaming building beside him… as well as its occupants.  That strange white mask still covering his face, its smile matching the one painted on the flaming wood beside him.

Claiming credit for his achievement.

Dom cracked his knuckles.

“So… are you all afraid to die?” he asked.

Chapter 33 - Gamble

Dom landed back in the casino with a thump, kneeling on the marbled floor and pulling off that damn mask before shoving it in his bag.  He needed a moment to collect himself after that shitshow.  He didn’t have a better word to describe what had happened.  Heist now felt a little off.  He hadn’t even been able to focus on whether Adrian had survived, let alone whether he’d made it to the auction house and posted the items they’d stolen.

He’d been a little… busy.

You know, single-handedly leading a small army on a merry chase through Aislen.

Although, Dom’s brow furrowed as he realized something was off.

It was far, far too quiet inside the casino.

His eyes shot up to find the floor filled with green arms and legs – goblins sitting at every table, in front of every slot machine, and even a few swinging from a nearby chandelier.  Behind them all was a familiar massive screen, the image frozen on a blue prompt notifying Dom of his death.  The goblins all stared at him in complete silence, eyes wide and mouths open.  Even the pair hanging from the ceiling had turned into ugly, emerald statues.

Dom could feel a weight settle in his stomach.  Shit.  Did it work?

Then, as one, a whooping cry filled the casino – a hundred voices raising a triumphant roar – the sound accompanied by the clang and buzz of the nearby machines.  Mugs of beer were slammed together.  The goblins on the chandelier sprayed the group below them with a freshly popped bottle of bubbly.  And in typical greenskin style, it wouldn’t be a celebration without a few “accidental” stabbings… and explosions.

Dom let out a sigh of relief as he pushed himself back to his feet.  A smiling Adrian rushed toward him, Wingman at his heels – the chicken hiding partly behind the bard.  It seemed she hadn’t forgotten how badly she’d fucked up on their mission.

“I’m guessing you managed to post the loot?” Dom asked.

“Did I post the loot, he asks?  Who do you think you’re talking to?” Adrian shot back, swiping at the air, and rotating a screen around to Dom.  “They already have app integration for the in-game auction house so that you can check on your postings through Rogue-Net.  That also helped me get everything listed pretty quickly.”  A pause, and the bard cocked his head.  “Although, the auctioneer was clear that we weren’t welcome back.  Might have had something to do with the veritable mountain of loot I dumped in front of him,” Adrian added with a frown.

“We’re probably going to have to find a good fence at some point.  Or like a safe city to post our spoils,” the bard murmured to himself.

His eyes shot back to Dom.  “Anyway, here’s the juicy part,” he explained as he tapped at the air and the screen shifted.

Dom could only stare, his eyes widening with comic slowness.

“Is that… how… what…?” Dom was struggling to form a coherent thought.

“Yeah, nice balance, huh?” Adrian shot back, his grin widening.  He waved at the goblins around them, the group holding one hell of a party.  “Hence the celebration.  We pulled off our first heist, baby!”

Dom was rubbing at his temple.  If Adrian was to be believed, they’d already made $10K.

“How is this even possible?  It’s only been a few minutes,” Dom murmured.

“What can I say?  The people want lootz,” Adrian amended.  “And you have to keep in mind that supply hasn’t been able to keep up with demand, especially not this early in the game.  Most of the more successful players and guilds are hoarding their gear and materials.  And we just posted a TON of noob equipment and basic crafting mats.  Like we’re not making much on each individual sale, but we’ve got volume on our side.”

“How would those people even have the gold to buy it, though?” Dom asked, shaking his head.  The balance was only continuing to tick up as he watched.

Adrian just shrugged.  “The app lets you automatically convert between real-world and in-game currencies.  I bet Cerillion Entertainment is taking a cut, which means they’re making some serious bank right now.  Talk about printing your own money…” he muttered.  “Anyway, a lot of people are pouring quite a bit of cash into this game.  Not that I’m too worried about it turning pay to win, mind you.”  Adrian shot Dom a meaningful glance.  “After spending some time with you, it’s clear that gear isn’t everything.”

“I guess…” Dom murmured, still shaking his head in disbelief.  This was already enough money to allow him to cover rent and food for a while.

Adrian must have picked up on his thoughts.  “I’m guessing we’ll end up with about $20-30K.  That should handle your rent and maybe your first installment on your treatment.  Not too shabby for a day or two of work, huh?” he offered with a grin.

“No… no, that’s not bad at all,” Dom muttered.  He was struggling to believe their plan had actually worked, even while another obnoxious part of his mind reminded him that this wouldn’t be enough.  Not nearly enough to fully treat his condition.

But it was still a start.  It was sure as hell more than he’d had a few short weeks ago.

He glanced at the bard.  Although, they hadn’t discussed his cut.  “And what about your—” Dom began.

Adrian held up a hand.  “Let’s get your shit together first, shall we?”

Dom could only stare back.  But the bard’s expression was firm.  It was actually the same face he made when discussing his clothing – which was a warning sign by itself.

“Thank you,” Dom said finally.

Adrian just shrugged.  “It’s not a big deal.”

“You say that, but you’re giving up a lot of money—” Dom began.

“Stop,” Adrian said, raising his hand.  “It’s nothing.  Really.  Plus, I’m sure there’ll be more where this came from.”

Wingman clucked gently from behind Adrian, breaking some of the tension.  Dom looked down at her, glaring for a moment as she cowered against the bard’s leg.  Then his resolve broke, and he threw open his arms.  “It’s okay.  I forgive you.  You did manage to collect most of the loot, and it turned out okay in the end.”

The chicken suddenly perked up, letting out a loud squawk and jumping up into Dom’s arms.  He hated to admit it, but he stumbled for a second under her weight.  She might not have gotten much bigger lately, but she was dense.  Although, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell a lady that she was big-boned – bird or not – especially since he’d seen this particular lady eat an entire elephant raw.

“Isn’t this a touching moment,” a familiar voice spoke up nearby, both Dom and Adrian wincing.  The God of Raining on Everyone’s Parade had arrived.

As the Gambler approached, Dom was forced to do a double-take.  He’d ditched the shirt, the stained vest, and the visor.  Now he was wrapped in a neatly tailored three-piece suit, the cotton pressed and cleaned.  He’d topped off the new ensemble with a pair of leather shoes, shining cufflinks in the shape of tiny coins, and a ywllow tie – a pattern of various red smiley faces stretching down its length.

“You’re looking… good,” Dom offered.  “What’s with the wardrobe change?”

The gambler turned and waved at the casino – the horde of goblins still raising a ruckus.  As Dom looked on, a few respawned back into the game world.  Yet instead of getting sucked out of the front door, panels opened in the ceiling, and the goblins shot up and into the abyss that lingered on the other side, leaving drinks unfinished and hands unplayed.

“Business has been good,” the Gambler explained. “We’re bringing in some serious coin now.  And as you can see, we’ve made some changes to the casino to handle the new foot traffic.”  His eyes shot to Adrian, a greedy smile tugging at his lips.  “Besides, if we’re going to keep expanding, then I’m going to need to look the part – dress for success, I always say.”

Dom’s brow furrowed.  “Keep expanding?” he echoed, glancing at Adrian.

Only to find the bard smiling as he and the god shared a look.  Dom wasn’t sure he loved that this pair had teamed up… or the way they looked so damn pleased with themselves.

“Anyone going to clue me in here?” Dom asked.

“First things first, let me show you to your private table,” the Gambler said with a half bow, gesturing nearby.  At the movement, the goblins were toppled aside with a gust of wind, creating a clear path through the casino – one that led straight to the only empty table in the room, the area cordoned off behind thick red velvet ropes.

Dom just shook his head as he took the lead, soon taking a seat.  Wingman sunk into his lap with a soft cluck as Adrian and the Gambler sat down beside him.  With another snap of the god’s fingers, a dome of amber light lit up around them, the sound of the casino suddenly vanishing behind that noise suppressing barrier.

“Okay, this is a lot of fanfare.  What’s the deal?” Dom asked again, arching an eyebrow.

“Well…” Adrian began hesitantly, glancing at the Gambler, who just waved him on.

“It was your idea.  You tell him,” the god urged the bard.

Adrian glanced back at Dom.  “So, you know how this mission was a glowing success, and we made some decent money, all due to my amazing heist planning skills?”

“More than just decent by the looks of it,” Dom interjected.

The bard cocked his head.  “Well, not really.  I took the liberty of looking up the prices for some of the more advanced treatments for your condition.  This is enough money to get you started and cover some basic living expenses, but it isn’t nearly enough to cover the full course of treatment.  Really we’re looking at closer to $1 million.”

Dom winced.  He could remember some of that pricing as well…

Adrian pointed at him.  “Yup, it’s a lot.  And let’s be honest, the heist we just pulled off worked once, but it likely won’t work again.  We’re relatively isolated out here near Aislen, traveling to other cities is inefficient, and <The Jackals> are pretty poor by most guilds’ standards.  What they have going for them is a monopoly on the player base and local economy. As we know, the area around here makes collecting resources tough.”

“I’m betting Booker will also make sure to guard their warehouses better in the future,” Dom murmured.  He paused, remembering the way he’d fought with their forces inside the warehouse.  “They likely also saw Wingman,” he offered.  “Which means it won’t take long for them to put together that you and I were behind that raid.”

Adrian snapped his fingers.  “Exactly.  Which means we need to switch things up.”

The bard swiped at the air, bringing up another display, this one showing a familiar scene – Dom pacing out of the guildhall, the wood aflame at his back, and smoke curling around him.  His armor was tattered and singed, stained with blood.  A bag over his shoulder.  Wingman at his heels.  A blast rocked the upper floor, and fire spewed from a third-story window.

“You recorded me?” Dom asked in confusion.

Adrian shrugged.  “I splurged a bit on the premium client package to get the in-game recording feature.  You actually get a movable camera?  Did you know that?”

“But why?” Dom asked.  “I thought we were supposed to be discreet.”

The Gambler barked out a laugh, smacking the table.  “We just let you believe that.  We always knew this mission would turn into a clusterfuck.  And we were right.”

By his tone, Dom was guessing the god had been meddling – placing a finger on the scales.  That was probably why his luck multiplier had plummeted so damn fast when he got inside.

Although, his wording was also interesting.

“We?” Dom asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adrian had the decency to at least appear a little embarrassed.  “Look, you’re great at training – yourself and others.  And your strategy to lure out Sean and the higher-level raid members was great.  But let’s be real here, you were busy with that nitty-gritty stuff, and you don’t really have a head for marketing.”

“Is that what this is?” Dom asked dryly, waving at the screen.

“Actually… yeah.  For this…” Adrian shot back, his expression unamused.  With a swipe of his wrist, the screen changed, now showing a new screen.  It looked like a crowdfunding website.  As Dom skimmed the display, his brow furrowed in confusion – only for his mouth to drop open a moment later, glancing in concern at Adrian and the Gambler.

“You set up a crowdfunding page… to destroy <The Jackals>?” Dom muttered in shock.

“Yeah, yeah, we did,” Adrian offered with a shrug.  “But before you freak out, look at these other pages,” he urged, swiping at the air.  “There are a ton of contracts generated both inside and outside the game already.  There are actually mercenary boards in every major city, and they operate on a system similar to the auction houses, which means full app integration, and they aren’t restricted to a local location.  Third-party sites can already push crowdfunded contracts to the in-game boards.  Again, I’m sure Cerillion is taking a cut there to increase the exposure of those contracts, but that’s not important.  Either way, people are paying good money to help them farm, finish a quest, etc.  Also, fun fact, residents can place their own contracts and add to crowd-funded contracts.”

Adrian raised a finger. “But the real money?  That’s in assassination contracts, and those are often crowdfunded.  Taking out a rival.  Griefing a PK guild.  Hell, whole guilds are already starting to take out contracts on each other – focusing on sabotaging each other’s members.  For example, if you can manage to spawn camp someone, you can potentially destroy some or all of their gear – which sucks.  Obviously.

“And then there’s this.” The page switched again, and Dom just gaped.

“$100K,” Dom muttered.  “To kill one player?”

“Not just any player.  This is the crowd-funded contract for Jason, specifically.  He pissed off a TON of people when he created the Twilight Throne.  They must have found getting eaten alive by a horde of zombies a teensy bit traumatic.  And other travelers and residents can join in these public contracts, upping the reward infinitely.  Jason might be a little out of our league right now, but when I saw that page, I had an idea.”

Adrian’s eyes were alight with excitement now as he leaned forward.  “What if we created our own contract for <The Jackals>?  Plenty of travelers are pissed at them and would be willing to add real money to get rid of them – especially since the guild has boxed them out of being able to level and explore the jungle, and they can’t easily reroll a new character.  And even the residents have good reason to want to see that guild burn.”

The bard’s smile widened.  “You know, like a bunch of angry crafters?”

“Which might be why the bounty is already at $20K and climbing,” Adrian said finally, switching back to the contract page, and scrolling down.  “I might have put up a small amount of our own money just to get the ball rolling…”

“Good gods,” Dom muttered, shaking his head.

He rubbed at a temple as he processed Adrian’s explanation.  His plan was interesting – potentially brilliant even.  Although, there was still a problem with it.

“How the hell are we going to take out the guild, though?  There’s just the two of us… and these green morons,” Dom amended grudgingly, waving at the goblins on the other side of the Gambler’s amber dome.  “They aren’t exactly easy to lead.  You saw how much trouble we had pulling off even this simple plan.”

“Hence, why we’re going to be expanding,” the Gambler finally interjected.

“Exactly!” Adrian exclaimed with a grin.  “And speaking of our last mission, it actually had two goals – to get you some initial cash… and to attract members for our new guild.”  He set down a scroll on the table.  “Oh, by the way, I picked up this guild charter while I was at the auction house.”

Dom was looking back and forth between the charter and the screen, tapping at the display, and scrolling down until he saw the video embedded on the page.  “So, you were hoping this would go sideways – or at least create enough damage to make for a good video,” he said slowly.

Adrian nodded in confirmation.  “You got it.  And it worked.  You destroyed an entire building full of armed guards by yourself, stole all of that loot, and we’ll make upward of $20K in a single run.  The video already has over 100K views, and I just posted it half an hour ago in the real world.  I also might have taken the liberty of making a LFM post on Rogue-Net and provided the location of the goblin village.”

“If anyone can even get here,” Dom retorted, shaking his head.

Adrian just shrugged.  “There are plenty of high-level players by now that could make the trip down here.  Think of it as their initial audition.  If they can’t even make it to us, then we wouldn’t want them anyway.  We sure as hell don’t want to start from scratch training green players.  We don’t have time for that bullshit.”  He shrugged.  “Besides, I suspect at least a few will show.  My recruitment post already has hundreds of comments.

“And this is just the beginning,” Adrian continued with an excited gleam in his eye.  “If we can recruit more people and take out <The Jackals>, the sky’s the limit,” he explained, waving at the casino around them.  “We’d be creating the first true assassination guild, and we apparently have access to what appears to be the only fast travel system currently in place – assuming we figure out how the damn thing works.”

The Gambler flipped a coin.  “In other words, this isn’t a one-off.  You would be building a new business – one dedicated to death and chaos.  All you need to do is take a cut of each member’s contracts,” he explained, his eyes glowing a bright amber, likely anticipating how much his happiness engine would benefit.

“And on my end, I’ve been thinking about the issues you raised in terms of circulating my currency,” the god added, the coin dancing along his knuckles.  “We can award coins to these green idiots for dying – a random amount, of course.  But I was stumped about how to handle new players adequately.  Turns out, once Adrian here explained this contract system, the solution was obvious.  I’ll reward coins for contract completion and scale the currency based on the difficulty.  We can always stream the footage back here and take bets.  And if it gets boring… well, I can just make the contracts a little more interesting.  You know, create a few extra challenges for our would-be mercenaries.”

Dom shook his head.  That… that didn’t seem like a terrible idea, even if the Gambler’s meddling sounded quite literally god-awful.

“So, like any good start-up, we’re going to be expanding rapidly,” the Gambler murmured, waving at his new suit and the goblins lingering on the other side of his barrier.

“Which assumes we can actually beat <The Jackals>,” Dom murmured.

“Well, that’s your job,” Adrian shot back with a grin.  “You can’t expect us to do everything.  But I’m not worried.  Between your training regimen and head for strategy, I’m sure you’ll be able to pull of something – especially if you have some extra muscle behind you.”

That might be putting too much faith in me, Dom thought.

But it was a chance – a chance at life.  He kept looking back and forth between the screen before him and the pair seated around the table.  The contract payout was already ticking upward, likely fueled by Dom’s video and word of mouth.  Adrian’s plan was… astounding.  He’d used their first heist to establish their new guild’s credibility, leveraged that to recruit new members, which he then planned to use to fulfill a crowdfunded contract of his own making.  And once the guild was in place, they could just keep fulfilling other contracts, possibly even start hunting the higher-priced bounties.

Maybe he was right.  Maybe Dom didn’t have a head for this stuff.

But it was clear Adrian did.  The bard really hadn’t been joking when he’d offered to be the face of Dom’s operation – those many days ago, standing over the corpses of several panthers on a cliff edge with a shitty half-broken guitar in his hand.

“There’s just one last thing we need to decide on,” Adrian spoke up.

Dom looked up to find him smiling broadly.  “Which is?”

“The name of our guild, of course,” Adrian replied, rapping his fingers on the guild charter.

For his part, Dom stared down at the page, his thoughts racing.  Then, suddenly, a name came to him.  One that felt fitting given his circumstance and the Gambler’s little slice of capitalistic purgatory.

He reached forward and tapped the contract, a prompt allowing him to select a name.  Moments later, text scrawled across the surface of the page as though drawn by an invisible hand.

The Gambler snorted out a laugh.  “I like it,” he declared, slapping the table.

“I do too,” Adrian murmured with a grin, tapping at the contract himself.  His eyes shot to Dom.  “Well, this is it, the starting point of something new.  The birth of <Death and Taxes>.”

As he finished speaking, a prompt flared to life before Dom.

System Message

You have founded a new guild:  <Death and Taxes>.

You are listed as one of the founding members, and you have been granted the rank of Guild Master.  The guild panel has also been unlocked on your UI.  You may set specific guild roles and privileges by accessing the menu.

Dom swiped aside the notice, his thoughts racing.  So much had changed in such a short time.  Only a few hours ago, he thought they’d just been going on a straightforward raid of <The Jackal’s> warehouse, not founding a new guild and starting an internet sensation.  He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about all of this, but he found a strange sensation burning in his stomach, one he normally only felt in battle or facing down his death.

“Alright, you’ve clearly done a lot,” Dom said to Adrian.  “And I’m not sure how the hell I’m ever going to repay you—”

“I’ve always been more a fan of the fame than the fortune,” Adrian retorted.  “And I have a feeling we’re going to have a lot of people watching us before long.”

Dom just nodded.  “In that case, what’s next?  What do you need from me?”

Adrian spread his arms wide.  “Nothing.”

Dom opened his mouth.  Closed it.  Opened it again.  “Uh, what?” he finally managed.

“You need to log the hell out,” Adrian replied evenly.  “Deal with your shit in the real world.  Get your affairs in order.  Plenty of work is coming – trust me on that.  So, you need to get ready.  In the meantime, I’m going to transfer the balance from our little heist to your account.”

“Are you sure?” Dom asked, his brow furrowed.

“Positive.  It’s going to take a few days for the new recruits to make their way here anyway, and it’s going to take <The Jackals> at least that long to regroup after the damage we caused.  Use this lull well… partner?” Adrian said this last part as a question, offering a hand.

Dom looked at it for a moment, having a strange sense of déjà vu.  Then he accepted Adrian’s grip, shaking his hand firmly.  As their eyes met, the message was clear – the pair not needing words to communicate what they were both thinking.  Not after days and weeks spent together in the jungle and surviving out in that green hell.

A war was coming.  And they couldn’t wait.

Chapter 34 - Aftermath

Booker stared at their guild hall… or what was left of it.

He took a puff on his cigarette, blowing out a large smoke ring.  The winds that swept through Aislen soon swept it away, and his creation vanished.  Much like the guildhall.  Ash blown away on stiff winds.  Weeks and months of in-game work.

The fires had eventually gone out.  But not before the guild had been forced to call on their few water mages to help contain the blaze before it spread to the adjacent structures.  The last thing they needed was to burn down most of Aislen or lose their secondary warehouses.  But that had left little mana to help put out the blaze.

Now all that remained was a pile of burnt and broken lumber, the aged timber seared a solid black.  A few framing pieces still stood in place.  Slender columns that stretched up into the air, connecting to nothing.  The remaining debris had been more than enough to fill the basement storage area, the pile of burnt lumber now rising to roughly ground level – a few stray wisps of smoke indicating that there were still live embers beneath that rubble.

“Holy shit,” Sean muttered as he approached Booker and stood next to him.

Booker couldn’t help but echo that sentiment.

“Our inventory?” Nora asked simply from Sean’s side.  The pair had just returned from the jungle, several hours too late to avoid this disaster.

“Gone as far as we can tell.  If it wasn’t stolen, the fire likely damaged anything that was left,” Booker answered.  “Although, once we have an opportunity to dig out the debris, there may still be some salvageable equipment and materials.”

“Who did this?” Sean growled.

Booker grimaced, rubbing at his temple.  “The guild members stationed here say that someone broke in.  The accounts are a little muddled.  Some claim it was a whole group; others just a single man.  However, the descriptions are all consistent.  The player they report seeing was large, dressed in thick leather, and wearing a white mask with a red smiley face.  Although, there was one rather telling detail.

“He was apparently accompanied by a chicken.”

“A chicken?” Sean echoed.  Then his eyes went wide.  “Wait.  Dom did this?”

“That appears to be the case,” Booker answered more calmly than he felt, taking another drag.  Even here, the motion was somehow comforting, despite not feeling the usual tingle of nicotine.  His free hand swiped at the air.  “Although, this was also suitable confirmation.”

The screen shifted to face Booker’s guildmates, showing the page Adrian had created for their new crowdfunding project – replete with a video of Dom exiting the burning building.  With another tap of his finger, the recording began playing silently for the officers’ benefit.

“That son of a bitch,” Sean barked, his hands balling into fists.  “I’m going to kill him.”

“Just like you did last time?” Nora retorted with a huffed laugh.  “Because that went so well, right?  One could even argue that it was your enthusiasm that caused this situation.  That and getting trapped in a cave by a few idiot goblins.”  She tapped her lips with her finger.  “I could have sworn you were begging me to come save your damseled-ass.”

Sean’s eyes flashed, electricity arcing along his arms now.  “You want to say that again?”

Nora just laughed.  “Sure.  You fucked up, and I had to come rescue you, Princess.”

Sean lunged at her… only to slam into something solid as a wall of lightning formed between the pair, flickering and crackling.  With a twitch of Nova’s fingers, the wall expanded, forming a thick cage around the raid leader.

“You were saying?” she taunted from outside the energy field, Sean glaring at her.

Booker exhaled another plume of smoke.  “This is getting us nowhere.  Why don’t we all calm down?” Booker suggested in an even voice, his eyes still on the wreckage.

“Yeah, put a sock in—” Nora began, cutting off sharply at a glare from Booker.

“Blaming one another serves no purpose,” Booker stated simply.  “The bottom line is that we were outplayed.  Dom lured out Sean’s raid group, trapped them, and forced a rescue, which primarily left our lower-leveled players to defend the guild hall.”

“So, you’re just going to bend over and take it up the ass, huh?” Sean muttered as the lightning winked out.

Booker arched an eyebrow as he looked at the dome of energy around Sean.  “Says the man who’s gotten trapped twice in the last 24 hours?  Perhaps some self-reflection might be helpful.”  At a gesture from the raid leader, Nova canceled the spell.

Sean’s hands balled into fists, but he made no move to attack or respond.  The truth was that the officers were wary of Booker.  He was a strong player, of that there was no doubt.  Booker had demonstrated that on more than one occasion.  But no one had ever seen him use his abilities, which only served to add to his mystique within the guild.

The guild leader paused, his eyes returning to the rubble.

“Trust me when I say that I’m quite angry.  Dom has destroyed an incredible amount of work.  My work.  But that emotion doesn’t help us – not right now.  In this moment, we need to shelve that bullshit and think clearly.  Strategically.”

Booker blew out another perfect smoke ring.  “So, to answer your question, of course, I don’t plan to simply accept defeat.  Particularly not when Dom and his bard companion have declared war upon our guild.  We’ve come too far to give up now,” he answered, waving at the screen that still floated nearby.

“Then send me to kill him,” Sean demanded.  “We can guess where he’s hiding now.  I can take a raid to—"

“To do what exactly?” Booker asked with a sigh.  “Sure, from your last report, it’s clear that Dom and Adrian have bound themselves to that dungeon.  They’ve also allied with the goblins – as unbelievable as that might be.  So, your chances of getting your revenge don’t look good.  But let’s say that you did kill them.  They would simply respawn.  Again and again and again.”

The guild leader’s eyes met Sean’s.  “So, tell me, what good would killing him do other than satisfying your own ego?  Or, to state it another way, how does that benefit the guild?”

Sean just chewed on that, his lips pinched into a frown.

“Do you think we’re dealing with a new avatar?” Nora asked quietly.

Booker cocked his head.  “It’s possible given Dom’s abilities.  And even if he isn’t, we’re clearly dealing with someone that has followed my advice.  He isn’t treating this as just an ordinary game.  And by all accounts, he’s motivated.  Intelligent.  Disciplined.  We should also assume that he won’t be alone next time,” he continued, swiping at the screen, the display shifting to Adrian’s recruitment post on Rogue-Net.

It was Nora’s turn to look surprised as she skimmed the text.  “Wait, are you actually suggesting that people will respond to Dom’s invitation to join his new guild?  Out here?  In this fucking hellhole?”

“We should assume that’s the case, yes.  Given the amount already pledged to their crowdfunded contract, they’ve clearly tapped into some hostility here in Aislen – the weak and incompetent throwing real-world money at what they perceive as our stranglehold on the utopia that is Aislen.”  This last part came out a touch more bitter than he intended.

Booker took another long drag.  “Regardless, I suspect that there are other players out there who, like Dom, are strongly motivated and looking for gold and glory – and have the means to act on that impulse.”

“What the hell is our play then?” Sean demanded, speaking up finally.

Booker mulled on that question for a long moment.  “First, we focus on regrouping.  We need to consolidate our strength here inside Aislen and rebuild the inventory that we lost.  Dom actually did us a favor in that regard.  He paved the way for us with his material gathering and showed us how profitable those excursions could be if they’re targeted.  We’ll focus on the areas farthest from the goblin dungeon he’s using as his base of operations.  We also need to fortify the city better against an attack.  Eventually, Dom will be forced to come here.”

“So, we’re turtling inside the city?” Sean asked in an incredulous tone.

Booker spared him another look, the other man fuming, barely restraining his anger.  “Not exactly.  We’ll also be postponing our highway project.  I have something else in mind.”

“That’s… cryptic,” Nora observed.

“For now, it’s also necessary,” Booker answered simply, eyeing the guild members that lingered around them and stepped through the remains of their ruined guildhall.  “As we saw, Dom’s crowdfunded contract has garnered some attention – perhaps even within our own ranks.  We’ll need to be careful with how we discuss strategy internally from now on.”

His eyes flitted to Nora.  “For now, let’s identify those players we trust the most.  Pull primarily from our higher-level raid groups – they’ll have less reason to be discontent with their lot in the guild.  We’ll need a mixture of mages and fighters.”

Sean and Nora just looked at each other, worry etched across their faces.

Yet, for his part, Booker didn’t look concerned.

If Dom was going to change the rules, then so be it.

He would just need to fight fire with fire.

***

The group of players strode down a dark, forested trail.  Their lone light mage channeled an orb beside her, the sphere giving off pulses of white light that pushed back at the darkness that encroached upon them.  Even so, shadows hung between the nearby trunks and branches, and the dozen or so members of the party clutched their weapons tight as they eyed the foliage.

Even travel inside AO could be dangerous.

As they rounded a turn in the path, their chat lit up, the group slowing to a stop.  Their scout had spotted something ahead.  A trade caravan that was under attack by a pack of wolves.

The light mage – Lexi – looked at their group leader, “You think we can handle some wolves?  Sarah says they’re around level 20.  We should be able to take them.”

Her brother frowned.  Tim had always been the cautious one.  “It’s also night.  Visibility sucks, and if we get engaged in a fight, we’re vulnerable to other players or creatures.”

The other members of the group stayed quiet as the log pinged again.

Confirmation that it was a small pack and half the merchants were already dead.  There were no tags on the others – which meant they were probably residents.  They eyed each other, all thinking the same thing.  Merchants meant loot.

“Could also net us some experience.  And it might be a quest,” Lexi offered tentatively.

“Plus, we’ve been avoiding literally everything.  I’m all for caution, but it might be time for a little action,” one of their group members spoke up, the others nodding along with him.  Even Tim was forced to grudgingly agree.

Tim sighed.  “Fine.  Fine.  Let’s do it.  But stay on guard.”

The group all nodded – Lexi included.

An amber waypoint appeared before them as Sarah dropped a marker, the group proceeding forward at a cautious crawl.  They formed up, pushing their mages into the center and their fighters to the outside.  Tim still hadn’t written off the possibility that this could be a trap.

A short time later, the caravan came into sight.  The group lingered along the tree line, regrouping with Sarah, who was perched in a nearby tree.  The merchants had ringed the wagons, the wolves circling the structure.  A few bodies lay outside the wall of wood – those too slow to make it inside the protective circle, most likely.

“Alright, we move in as one,” Tim explained.  “Mages stay here and provide covering fire and buffs.”  He hefted his shield, gripping his longsword lightly.  “The rest of you try to stay near me so I can defend you.”  They all nodded again, tension lingering in their eyes.

Nothing left to say, the group set out toward the wagons.  The wolves immediately began to turn, sniffing at the air as they caught the travelers’ scent.  Their blood-red eyes soon took in their new prey – these humans foolish enough to close with them.  Up close, they were larger than they’d appeared from the tree line, probably a couple hundred pounds each.  The group stayed close to Tim, his shield never wavering.

As they neared, the wolves lunged forward, several of their number moving to flank.

Tim raised his shield, anticipating the impact as the lead wolf struck – only to gape in shock as it passed straight through his shield and landed inside their formation.  Its body broke apart, swirling and reforming – glimmering slightly in the firelight.  Almost like an icy mist.  “What the fuck—?”

Tim turned, only to find his teammates on the ground, jagged shards of ice embedded in their throats, water slowly dripping to the ground.  Tim looked at his UI, just in time to see his sister’s icon go gray without a single word of warning.

“Oh shit,” Tim muttered, even as he saw the wagons flicker, then the merchants, then the wolves disintegrating into mere puddles of ice and water.

A dark silhouette stepped out of the forest, a single icy shard floating at its shoulder.

“Why?” Tim bit out, fighting back the frustration and anger in his chest.

The figure shrugged.  “Girl has to make a living.”

That icy spear shot forward in a blur, and Tim raised his shield, the ice shattering against the metal.  He let out a mental cheer.  Maybe she would have trouble with his—

He never got to finish that thought.

Tim could suddenly feel something wet and cold dripping down his neck.  And, strangely, he had trouble swallowing.  His hand rose ever so slowly, feeling at the frozen lance embedded in his own throat.  It must have come from the side, he realized far too late.  Then Tim slumped to the ground, unmoving.

A woman stepped out of the shadows, ice floating around her and the tag above her head reading, “Vanessa.”  She sniffed as she eyed the corpses.  This had been easy.  Too easy really.  With a sigh, she stooped, going over the players’ bodies.

Moments later, she let out a sigh, her fingers twitching and a block of ice forming alongside the road.  Vanessa slumped down on its surface, swiping at the air to bring up her in-game console, a series of windows opening before her.  These noobs had barely been carrying anything.  After checking the auction house app, it looked like their equipment and consumables would only net a few gold.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “Barely worth the trouble.”  Times had been lean ever since Lahab.

Ever since that flaming asshole had left her down in the Abyss.

And even after she had crawled her way out of that hell – had died countless times – there sure as hell hadn’t been any place left for her in Lahab… now Sandscrit, she supposed.  So, she’d been heading slowly south.  To start over.  Preying on noobs.  Collecting on shit contracts.  The few guilds she’d come across were either sad affairs – at least, after witnessing the glory of Lahab’s Mage Guild – or naturally wary of strangers.  And even those that had been open to accepting her were just, well, kind of dull.

They lacked ambition.  They lacked the resolve to do what was necessary in this world.

But Vanessa… well, Vanessa had learned not to be shy about taking what she wanted.

Not anymore anyway.  It wasn’t like she had anything to lose – especially not here.

Even as that thought crossed her mind, her UI dinged, the open window showing the Rogue-Net website updating.  A new post caught her eye.  It was an open guild recruitment… one with a link over to another site.  As she clicked through, a video began to play, and surprise flitted across her face.  Not just at the carnage she was witnessing but at the obscene cash value of this contract.  $35K to take out a guild?  Really?  Just how hated were these people?

She swiped back, scrolling down the post to find this guild’s location.

They were situated at almost the southern edge of this continent – one hell of a walk.  But she could probably make good time if she appropriated a few horses.  With a shift of her fingers, mist swam around her hand and then materialized into golden coins.  She’d found other uses for her particular skills… and discovered that the other residents and travelers were exceptionally gullible.

“<Death and Taxes>, huh?” Vanessa murmured.

Now, this looked like her sort of guild.

***

Walt stood in a dilapidated alley, rats fighting over a few scraps nearby.  A plain door stood before him.  It looked like wood – but he knew it wasn’t.  The Rat King, as he liked to call himself, was more careful than that.  Steeling himself, Walt rapped his knuckles against the surface, the dull thud belying the heavy metal hidden beneath the thick coating of paint.

A narrow panel scraped to the side, revealing a set of rather unfriendly eyes.  “Password,” the man grunted out.

“Raining Gold.”

The man smirked.  “Nah, the other password.”

“C’mon, man.  Can you just give me a break?” Walt asked with a sigh.  “It’s been a rough night as it is.”  The guard just started to slide the metal pane closed in response.

“Fine.  Fucking fine.  I’m your bitch,” Walt muttered in a dejected voice.

“Ahh, see?  I knew you remembered it,” the guard said with a dark chuckle.

The panel slid shut, followed closely by the sound of deadbolts being shifted out of place.  Moments later, the door creaked open and revealed a well-lit interior.  Golden light spilled out softly against polished wood and elaborate rugs – a stark contrast to the squalor just outside.  The guard stood nearby, still smirking at him.  But Walt ignored him.  This place was full of assholes.  Traveler or resident, it made no difference.  It was just more of the same, in-game or out.

Not that he had much choice in the matter.  Walt rarely did.  No theft happened in Barrow without the Rat King’s sanction – not without consequences, at least.  And fencing stolen goods could be challenging.  The Rat King controlled all the resident fences.  There was the auction house, but that had gotten shut down quickly.  Now, there were always eyes on the building, and the city guard had taken to reviewing an inventory of each person’s items before admitting them.

He’d heard rumors that the woman running the local trade house – Evelyn Something – had lobbied the local government to start tamping down on the thefts. Cutting into her business most likely.  Walt had seen those warehouses himself.  They had damn Nephilim patrolling them day and night now, flapping about and ready to laser beam anyone who got close.

So, Walt kept his head down and his mouth shut.

He sure as hell didn’t need any more problems.

He trudged inside, making his way through this city’s den of thieves.  Which gave him plenty of time to reflect on the laundry list of bullshit he’d been through already.  He’d eventually managed to escape Lahab right after Finn’s attack.  Barely.  Although, he’d lost most of the gear he’d stolen after getting cut down by the Khamsin.  How could he have expected to encounter freaking desert ninjas?  By the time he’d respawned, the city had completely gone to shit – hellhounds roaming freely and Finn’s forces battling them in the streets.  So, Walt had decided to do what he did best, cut his losses and run.

Unfortunately, his current build really only made him good at one thing.

He couldn’t fight.  Couldn’t easily defend himself.

But he could break into pretty much anywhere.  And, apparently, there was a healthy demand for that sort of skill set.  So, Walt had capitalized on it as best he could – even if his negotiating leverage sucked.

He arrived at a thick wooden door, two guards posted beside it.  This was all a formality.  If he wanted, Walt could have slipped into this place with none the wiser.  All it would take was a flicker of his earth mana.  But if the Rat King found out he hadn’t followed protocol, he’d be excommunicated – hunted by the other thieves in this damn city.

Personally, he’d decided the jackass just liked to humiliate him.  Cut Walt down in front of his men to make himself feel big.  Walt had met plenty of people like that.  Although, the realism hit just a bit too close to home for his tastes.

Walt stood there and waited as the guards patted him down and then opened the door.

He stepped inside and discovered a familiar scene.  The Rat King sat at a wooden table covered in papers and stacks of coins.  More guards filled the corners of the room, and Walt had no doubt that more were hidden in the walls – leveling crossbows at him.

The man didn’t even bother to greet him, just waved at the table.

With a grunt, Walt lifted his bag and dumped the contents.  Jewels fell out onto the wood in a nearly endless stream, the pile growing and growing until it stretched almost two feet into the air.  This haul had been pretty good.  None of the crystals were enchanted yet but were all high-quality crude stones.  More than enough to make some pretty damn fine equipment with the right crafter.

The Rat King was sure as hell looking now, and Walt caught the flicker in his eyes before he controlled his expression.  The “boss” wasn’t supposed to look surprised, after all.

“This is… more than we discussed.”

“I hit every enchanter in trade district tonight,” Walt grunted.

“That wasn’t the plan.”  There was an edge to the man’s voice now, and Walt eyed the walls around him, his fingers twitching instinctively.  Just a few seconds and he could be out of this shithole.  He resisted the urge to grab for his wand.

“I wasn’t given any limits.  You said steal some crystals.  Here they are,” Walt shot back.

The Rat King stared at the pile.  Stared at Walt.  The guards shifted nervously, one fingering his knife and leering at Walt – like he was looking forward to gutting him.  People thought the travelers were bad…  Well, they hadn’t met some of this world’s residents.

Then the Rat King’s face split into a wide smile.  “I’m just fucking with you.  You travelers are just so tense.  If I were immortal, I think I’d learn to live a little, you know?” he said, directing these comments to his henchman, the men chuckling good-naturedly at their boss’ joke.

Walt just grunted but otherwise stayed quiet.

“Anyway, here’s your cut,” the Rat King said.  A handful of coins struck the floor at Walt’s feet – copper, by the looks of it.  Only the tiniest percentage of what he’d just stolen.

He grimaced.  The margins were getting narrower.  A tax, the Rat King called it.

Walt had been unpleasantly surprised to discover there was little honor among thieves.

“What?  Something wrong?  Did I give you too much?” the Rat King asked with feigned innocence, leaning forward and steepling his fingers.

Walt took a deep breath.  “My cut keeps getting smaller.”

The man just stared back.  “Ahh, perhaps you’ve forgotten what makes your little heists possible?  It’s always sad when the help gets too full of themselves.  But if you don’t like it, you’re always welcome to leave.  I even heard that a new guild is recruiting out of the southern part of the continent.  It would only take you what… a week to get there?  And that’s assuming you survive,” the Rat King said with a cruel smile.

Walt looked around the room, watching as the others laughed at him.

And, in that moment, facing down another heaping mountain of bullshit, Walt questioned why the fuck he was even playing this game anymore.  First in Lahab.  Brutally murdered.  Collateral damage in the Najmat-fucking-Alhidad’ s self-righteous crusade.  Then he’d been forced onto the streets.  No guild.  No teammates.  Who wanted an earth mage without a single damn DPS, defensive, or healing spell?  So, he was stuck with this shit work.

In that moment, he resolved to quit.  But if he was finished playing, well, then there was no harm in taking what he was owed.  Was there?

Walt’s fingers twitched, and suddenly all the guards in the room fell to the ground as though crushed under an invisible hand.  It wasn’t enough to kill them – he didn’t have the juice for that – but Walt’s Gravity Well could certainly incapacitate them.  Bolts flew from hidden panels in the walls, only to strike the edges of the field and slam into the ground.  He’d found he could tinker with the field to leave a free pocket for himself.

What he lacked in power, he made up for in precision.

“I’ll just be taking this,” Walt murmured, sweeping the gems back into his bag.

“I’ll… fucking kill you… for this,” the Rat King grunted from where he lay on the floor, straining against the effects of Walt’s Gravity Well.

Walt raised an eyebrow.  “If you can catch me.”

“Nowhere… for you… to go.”

“Ahh, but didn’t you mention somewhere down south?” Walt quipped.  “Might be some sandy beaches.  Sounds almost relaxing.”

With that, his fingers twitched again, and he walked straight into the nearby wall, the stone almost liquid as he forced his way through.  Several uncomfortable moments later, he popped out the other side, his feet landing on rough cobblestones.  His spell back in the Rat King’s lair would have ended by now.  Unfortunately, Walt’s control range was pretty limited.  But it would take those assholes some time to catch up, and Walt could be a slippery pain in the ass.

The question was, what now?

Should he just quit like he’d planned or…

Walt swiped at the air, bringing up his in-game console. He couldn’t shake that comment the Rat King had made.  Was there really a guild recruiting down south?  He thought that place was a wasteland.  A trap for noob players.  It was practically a meme online now.  It took him only moments to access the Rogue-Net website.  He skimmed the posts, tapping on one that had an insane number of comments, only to raise his eyebrows in surprise moments later.

“Huh, these guys look like the real deal.  And only a 50% cut to the guild,” Walt murmured.  “Hell of a lot better deal than I was getting, assuming I can make it there.”

He wavered for another second, only enough to hear a shout of alarm fill the night air, carried on a gentle breeze.  It looked like the Rat King’s hunt was on.

Then his resolve hardened, and Walt’s fingers twitched again.

Too bad they were never going to find him.

***

Lauren eyed her opponents.

They were the last few standing, weary and bloodied.  Dozens of other corpses riddled the dirt ring, encircled by steep 15-foot walls composed of a dense rock – likely the work of a few earth mages.  And, above those walls sat dozens of spectators.  They peered down into the ring, their voices rising into the air as they cheered and booed their favorites.

Yet Lauren had little attention to spare for that.  Her fingers curled around the grips of her pistols, and her eyes focused solely on her targets.

Earth mage, fighter, archer, she listed off their roles mentally.

And all three of them were focused solely on her.

“Well, come on then,” she taunted, her eyes flashing with amber energy.

The fighter charged forward in a blur, his movements surprisingly quick for someone robed in full platemail and wielding a heavy two-handed sword.  He slashed at Lauren at the same time the earth mage unleashed her energy, walls of stone rising swiftly from the ground around Lauren and boxing her in on three sides.  No matter, she could always go up.

With a crackle of electricity, Lauren’s body burst apart into bands of energy, the fighter’s sword sweeping through the space she’d just occupied.  She reappeared about ten feet above him, only for her eyes to widen as she saw an arrow whistling toward her.

Fuck, the archer had anticipated her move.

She pivoted in the air, kicking off a panel of reinforced air mana and heading straight back down toward the fighter.  He leered at her from beneath his helm, already raising his sword for a killing blow.  He thought he had her trapped, apparently.

Noob.

Lauren’s body flickered again, and suddenly she shifted a few feet to the right, enough to dodge the swing, hook her leg around the fighter’s neck, and swing back up into position – her small form and light weight making her rather flexible.  She came back up, straddling the fighter’s shoulders.  He tensed, moving to grab at her – only to freeze in place a moment later.

The muzzle of her pistols now rested against his neck.

“Checkmate,” she whispered.

Then there was a blast of noise and a spray of blood.

Lauren was already gone in a crackle of lightning, another arrow whistling through the space she’d just occupied.  She was on her feet again and racing toward the remaining pair, not even bothering to watch the fighter’s body hit the ground.  Armor was nice and all, but it always had chinks and gaps, especially if the player wasn’t reinforcing their body with mana.  That was just the basics.  How inexperienced were these idiots?

The earth mage’s staff flared, and Lauren felt her feet sinking into the ground.

Quicksand – damn it.  That would also make it hard to teleport.  The earth mage had effectively grounded her.  Her skills were all lightning-based...

Even worse, the archer had already nocked another arrow.  Flames rushed down his arms, infusing the bolt with a fiery energy that caused the material to ripple and shift.  Glass, she realized suddenly.  He was firing glass arrows infused with fire mana.  It looked like it would probably hurt, assuming he managed to hit her.

Lauren lurched to a stop, an easy feat under the effects of the Quicksand – the sand clinging to her ankles.  Struggling would be pointless.

I should have put more points in strength, she thought ruefully.

She slowly holstered one pistol and raised the other with both arms.  She planted her feet and aimed down the sight carefully, the archer doing the same.  As an extra precaution, the earth mage attempted to box her in once more, walls of rock lifting from the ground.  The woman was glowing with a strong green light as she maintained the channel on both spells simultaneously, a wide, triumphant smile painted across her face.

It seemed she had some decent gear.

Probably real-world cash.  Her reaction speed was too slow to have acquired those items from questing or dungeon diving.

Lauren never wavered.  She adjusted her aim upward, compensating for the gravity field and watching the archer carefully.  Then, just as he was about to fire, his fingers twitched, and Lauren fired.  A blast rang through the air as her bullet sped forward.  Only a fraction of a second later, the archer released his arrow and began to dive to the side to avoid her missile.

But it was already too late.  Far too late.

Lauren’s bullet hadn’t been aiming at the archer.

It slammed into that fire arrow – the missile only having traveled a scant few feet.

It exploded in a blast of fire that engulfed the archer, his screams echoing through the air as he frantically rolled along the ground to extinguish the flames.  The explosion hadn’t quite caught the earth mage, but it was enough to throw her from her feet – and cancel her spells.  At that moment, the Quicksand suddenly gave up its grip.

Lauren’s lips twisted into a smile as she ripped her feet free.  Lightning crackled around her body again, and she teleported into the air above the two, her pistols in hand and firing two shots in midair.  A moment later, her feet touched down gently upon the dirt, followed shortly by two thumps as the earth mage and archer slumped to the ground unmoving.

A sudden silence descended over the ring, the crowd unmoving and staring.

“What?” Lauren demanded, facing those faces.  “Are you not entertained?”

She’d always wanted to say that.  Just an excellent classic movie.

“Ahem, I’m not sure that’s the issue,” a voice spoke up from the edge of the ring, attached to an older woman with graying hair.  Despite her age, her skin had a glow that spoke of plenty of time in the sun, and she moved with a grace that belied exceptional strength and agility.  Appearances inside of AO could be deceiving – as Lauren was intimately aware.

“Then what is?” Lauren shot back, a pit forming in her stomach despite her aggressive demeanor.  She refused to let them see her blink, but this was also the 11th guild tryout she’d attended in a week.  They’d all ended the same way.

“Well, frankly dear, it’s your age,” the woman replied evenly, her voice carrying across the ring.  “While there’s no doubt your skills are… exceptional,” she continued, eyeing the corpses.  “Many of the members of the <Pythons> are uncomfortable with recruiting underaged members, especially for the sort of sensitive work we handle.”

By “sensitive work” she meant killing people for money.

“Yet it’s fine to let me try out and kill these scrubs, huh?” Lauren demanded.

“As you’ll recall, we didn’t let you try out.  You shot the test administrator and insisted you would hunt us down if we didn’t let you participate,” the woman replied sourly.

“That alone should disqualify you,” a man spoke up from her right.  One of the guild officers.  “We aren’t looking for wild card members that we have to rein in.”

Lauren grimaced.  Not that they would have given her a chance even if she’d played by their bullshit rules.  She’d encountered this reaction every time, ever since the <War Dogs> had kicked her from her position as guild leader.  They’d been unhappy with her leadership after they’d all gotten trounced by Jason and his group north of the Twilight Throne.

Fucking avatars.  And fucking wimpy ass teammates.

Lauren had come “this” close to killing that necro-weeny.  Solo.

The woman looked down at her – her expression not unkind.  “Look, this is just guild policy.  I suspect there are other guilds out there that might—”

Lauren snorted, turning to leave.  She didn’t need a lecture from these scrubs.  “Yeah, yeah, save it,” she shot back over her shoulder, waving her hand.  “If I could take all of your recruits solo, then you all aren’t on my level anyway.”

With that, she strode out of the ring to the sounds of angry muttering.  They might not like to hear it – but it was still the truth.  Not that it did much to quell the queasy feeling in her stomach.  The bottom line was that she would prefer to work with others.  This game wasn’t easy, and there was a limit to how far you could rise alone.  If she was to accomplish her goal – to finally pay back Jason – she was going to need help, even if it grated her to acknowledge that.

Lauren made it a few dozen paces down the dark tunnel carved into the side of the ring before she slowed and slumped back against the wall, her façade cracking.  Her mission was starting to feel futile.  No one she had met had measured up against that damn avatar and his crew – bullshit ageism aside.  And if she were going to have any chance of beating him, she needed people that could shake this world to its foundation.  People that posed a genuine threat.

“That was a spectacular showing,” someone spoke up from nearby.

In an instant, a pistol was in Lauren’s hand and pointed straight at the offending player’s face.  Although, Lauren did a doubletake as she took in the man’s appearance.  He was wearing a neat three-piece suit, his clothing impeccably cleaned and unwrinkled.  It was an odd look compared to most of what she’d witnessed inside AO.

Even more interesting?  There were no tags floating above his head.

So, he’s either a resident, or he’s hiding his identity.

Both were possibilities… and interesting ones at that.

“Now, now.  No need for that,” the man offered, raising his hands to show he was unarmed.  Yet the way he watched her was almost predatory – his expression making her uncomfortable, as though he could somehow see through her confident façade.  “I just wanted to show my admiration.  It seems those others don’t fully appreciate your unique talents.”

“And you do?” Lauren bit out but slowly lowered the gun.

“Indeed.  I’m a businessman at heart.  My standards are more practical.  Age isn’t as important as experience and talent,” he answered smoothly.  “In fact, I know of a guild that would be a perfect fit for you, assuming you’re interested.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow.  She was skeptical, especially considering the creepy vibes she was getting from this guy, but what the hell?  “Oh, really?”

His smile just widened, his wrist swiping at the air and pivoting a display toward her, one showing a post on Rogue-Net.  Perhaps he was a traveler then.

“<Death and Taxes>?  What a weird name for a guild,” Lauren murmured.  Even more interesting was the video embedded on the page.  With a tap of her finger, it began playing, and Lauren was unable to look away as she watched the scene unfold onscreen.

Only a few minutes later, her eyes rose back to the strange man—

Only to find that he’d disappeared.

“Yeah, not creepy or weird at all,” she muttered.

Yet her gaze soon returned to that screen, the display frozen on a single image – one of a massive man, walking through a haze of smoke.  Flames rose into the air at his back, illuminating a giant red smiley face, a tear dripping away from one eye.  All around him rested broken limbs and shattered wood.  And below that image was a taunt – an open challenge.

“If you’re interested, meet us at this location within seven in-game days.  Anyone that survives the journey will be considered for membership in <Death and Taxes>.  Your class, skills, gear, age, and background are entirely irrelevant.”

“Those that survive, huh?” Lauren said aloud, the pit in her stomach vanishing.  She couldn’t help the excited smile that tugged at her lips.

She shrugged and swiped the screen away, her eyes gleaming as she holstered her weapons.  “What the hell?  I could use an actual challenge anyway.”

Then Lauren started walking.  It looked like she had a long journey ahead of her.

***

With a flash of amber light, the Gambler re-entered the casino.  A broad smile stretched across his face as he paced to the bar, ignoring the horde of goblins that now frequented his establishment.  He had to shove one of the damn creatures off the counter, the little green idiot drinking directly from one of the taps.  Then he stepped around the bar and poured himself a whiskey.  A double today.  He’d earned it.

His eyes skimmed the casino floor, glowing with a faint amber light.  If anything, the goblins’ numbers had seemed to increase over the last few days.  The casino was almost stretched to capacity.  He might need to expand soon… use some of the mana that he’d already collected as a result of Dom’s activities out there in the game world.

It was that same energy that now allowed him to meddle.

Just a gentle nudge here and there, a few tugs on the web of chaos that stretched out across the game world – the probabilities shifting ever-so-slightly in response.  Although, that last one had required a little more hands-on attention.  No matter.  The Judge likely wasn’t watching.

A chittering sound forced his eyes to drop to the counter.  Oscar stood there on his hind legs glaring at him accusingly.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.  You and I both know I haven’t broken any rules.”

An annoyed squeak answered his words.

“I don’t have an avatar, remember?  Dom turned down the job.  Which means I can talk to whomever I please.  You could even view all of this as an extended interview of sorts.  Each one of these people has the potential to be an excellent avatar.”

Oscar chittered another response.

“Maybe, but there’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t use them all if no one agrees to take up the position formally.”

The Gambler shrugged, waving behind the bar.  Amber energy suddenly bloomed there, sweeping out into a familiar fractal flower of probability.  He pointed at the top line number, one that had increased substantially of late.  “Besides, I’m fulfilling my mandate from corporate.  As long as I produce numbers like these, I doubt anyone will complain.”

The rat shook his head but settled back on his feet.

“Oh, don’t look so glum.  This is just the beginning anyway.  I have a feeling that what’s coming next will make our last quarter’s earnings look pathetic.”  He glanced at the rat.  “And I hear you little narcs get a bonus depending on our performance.  You should be happy.”  He chortled at this last joke, taking a pull on his whiskey.

“Besides, aren’t you curious to see what happens next?” he murmured into his glass.

Chapter 35 - Recuperative

Steve and Justin froze as Dom’s bedroom door creaked open.

For the last week or two, their roommate had been acting strangely.  Normally, Dom rose before sunrise, and Steve had gotten accustomed to seeing him emerge fully dressed and neatly shaved – alert and ready for the day.  He was always the first on the field in the morning.  Even when his knees started giving him trouble, Dom would still lift and stretch every morning before classes while the team trained – and again after classwork had ended – using the rest of his twilight hours to tackle homework and other bullshit.

His diet consisted of rice and chicken and a heap of vegetables.  And then more rice.  And more chicken.  And more greens.  In between, there were the smoothies – elaborate affairs that contained mixtures of veggies, protein powder, and a half dozen other supplements.  Collagen.  Creatine.  Omega-3 oils.  Hemp hearts and anti-oxidant-filled fruits and veggies.  The dude had a real fondness for kale and birdseed.  From Steve and Justin’s perspective, these mixtures often look more like some sort of alchemical experiment than an actual meal.

However, Dom was a fanatic when it came to his routine – his diet, training, and classwork.  And the results spoke for themselves.  Dom was considered one of the best linebackers in college ball and had one of the highest GPAs on the team.

Lately, though?

Well, Dom rarely left his room.  He’d begun keeping weird hours, only emerging around midnight or in the middle of the afternoon to grab some breakfast cereal.  Cereal!  That shit was all carbs and sugar.  They’d both heard Dom rant about how terrible that shit was – typically while Justin and Steve were devouring their own bowls.  So, if he was eating that stuff, well, there was a problem.  A big problem.

Even their coaches had begun to notice.  Dom had stopped showing up for practices or hitting the gym.  Dom was a hell of a player, and their coaches were giving him some leeway with his injury, but that wouldn’t last forever.  So, Justin and Steve had done a little of their own snooping.  It turned out that Dom hadn’t been attending classes either.  It was clear that something was wrong.  They just didn’t know what it was.  Maybe it was his knees?  Maybe he was just depressed that he couldn’t train or participate with the team?

Either way, they hadn’t known how to help him.

So, they’d stayed quiet, hoping maybe it was just a funk and he’d snap out of it, which was why they stood stock still as Dom finally emerged from his room – this time while the morning sun was actually shining.  And wonder of wonders, he was dressed, shaved, and showered, and carrying a heaping pile of dirty bowls, plates, and utensils.

“Hey guys,” Dom said as he passed, jerking his chin at his teammates.

He then proceeded to calmly wash his dishes – not just rinse them out and plunge back into the gloom of his room.

“Uh… um, hey,” Justin managed, coughing to clear his throat.  He opened his mouth to ask a question but snapped it shut at a shake of Steve’s head.

No sense disturbing whatever fragile normalcy Dom had managed to obtain.

Dom made a few trips back and forth to his bedroom as his roommates stood there staring, practice and classes long forgotten.  They watched him finish cleaning his dishes, strip the sheets from his bed, and then haul out a hefty load of laundry, stuffing the linens in the tiny washer crammed into a closet beside the kitchen.  Then the damn guy started vacuuming and dusting.  The whole process took roughly an hour – one in which Justin and Steve remained in a sort of holding pattern, almost too scared to breathe.

Once Dom was finished, he sat down at the counter, drinking a familiar dark green smoothie.  Finally, he turned his gaze back to his teammates, noticing their hesitant expressions and the way they were staring at him.

“Alright, you guys going to snap out of it?” Dom asked.  “You’re starting to worry me.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious, we’re worrying you—?” Justin began.

Only for Steve to cut him off.  “What he means to say,” he interjected with a glare, “is that we’ve noticed you seem off lately.  It’s just nice to see you acting like your usual self.  Even coach was starting to notice.”

Dom let out a heavy sigh.  “Yeah, yeah…  That’s on me.  I’m sorry.”

“No worries, man.  At least we know now that you’re not dying or something,” Justin barked out, smacking Dom on the back.

A wince tugged at Dom’s brow, and his teammates froze again, glancing at each other.  “Or maybe not?” Steve offered tentatively.

Dom took another deep breath.  He might as well go ahead and have this conversation.  It probably wouldn’t be the only time today, and he could use the practice.

He raised his eyes to his teammates, managing a brittle smile.  “I guess it’s time I leveled with you both.  I just haven’t been ready to talk about it.”  Dom heaved out a sigh.  “So, it all started with my last doctor’s visit…”

***

Dom sat in the waiting room at the university’s health clinic.

Despite how long he’d spent in-game or how many times he’d died – had his head lopped off, his limbs ripped from his body, his stomach cut open.  No matter how many times he’d been cut, burned, flayed, and poisoned…  This place – this fucking room – still got to him.  Maybe it was the white-washed walls.  The elevator music playing in the background.  Or perhaps it was the smell – that astringent tickle in the back of his nose.

He couldn’t exactly put his finger on why he hated this place.

But he did.

With a passion.

It turned out that talking to his teammates had actually been one of the hardest parts of his day.  Justin and Steve had taken the news well – or as well as could be expected when telling someone that you’re dying.  Maybe.  Unless he could collect enough money inside a videogame to pay for his treatment.

Okay, admittedly, that last part had sounded pretty crazy when he said it out loud.

Although, showing them his bank balance had helped – sort of.

Steve had finally accepted Dom’s explanation at that point, except then he wouldn’t stop tearing up and hugging him.  And Justin kept trying to buy drugs from Dom – refusing to accept that he could have possibly made all that money inside a damn videogame.  He’d decided that Dom must be a dealer as his side hustle, which was sort of fair.

The conversation with his coach had gone much more smoothly than expected.  The bottom line was that if Dom couldn’t play, he lost his scholarship – their hands were tied there.  However, his coach was able to buy Dom some more time.  He could stall on filling out the paperwork for a little longer.  That would give him another month or two of living expenses to help carry him through his initial treatments.  That had been incredible, freeing up a lot of Dom and Adrian’s hard-won funds for the first installment on his treatment.

The university had also been surprisingly helpful.  They’d given him an extension on all his classwork and offered to contact his professors on his behalf.  If necessary, he could withdraw for the semester and return in the spring.  Although, Dom wasn’t convinced this was entirely altruistic.  He suspected the university wanted to avoid a PR nightmare by kicking out a football star with a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Either way, Dom’s prospects were looking brighter.

Except for this last part… actually getting treated.

“Dominque Hart,” a voice called.

Dom looked up to find a familiar face attached to that voice.  “Oh, hey again,” Vivian greeted him, her lips splitting into a wide smile.  “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad, all things considered,” Dom shot back, rising from his chair.

“I suppose that’s fair,” Vivian replied.  “Well, why don’t you follow me.”  She paused, glancing down at her Core, a screen projected into the air.  Her eyebrows rose.  “To the infusion room,” she finished, shooting him a questioning look.

“Starting treatment today,” Dom answered simply.  He’d been able to sign up online through the clinic’s website.  Once he’d handed over basically all of his cash, the clinic had been remarkably quick to get his treatment started.  Funny how that worked.

“No kidding,” Vivian hummed, still scanning Dom’s report.  “And the platinum package?  That must have cost you a fortune.”  Her eyes darted to Dom’s face.  “I guess you must have figured out a way to pay for your treatment, huh?”

“At least the first installment,” Dom shot back with a thin smile.  “One of like 100.  I’m pretty sure I’m still going to be in debt for the rest of my life.”

“Well, at least it’ll be a long one,” Vivian quipped with a smile of her own.

She stopped in front of a door, swiping her Core along the nearby panel.  It beeped once, and then the door slid open with a faint hiss of hydraulics.  “So, this is the VIP infusion center,” she explained, waving her hand through the door.

Dom could only stare in shock.  It was like he’d just stepped into a forest, one that eerily reminded him of Aislen.  For just a moment, his heart hammered in his chest, and he scanned the foliage for creatures before he noticed the displays flicker.  Suddenly, he realized he was looking at LED screens that ran from floor to ceiling, each display projecting the image of a peaceful forest – sunlight trickling through the tree cover and birds chirping from nearby branches.  However, the reclining chairs resting along one and the medical equipment perched alongside them revealed that this was still an infusion center.

“Pretty posh, I know,” Vivian said.  “If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll get you hooked up and start your infusion.”

Dom promptly followed her orders, Vivian stepping around him and placing his arm into the machine at his side.  There was a faint click, and Dom felt a pinprick along his arm.  “There you go, all done,” Vivian reported seconds later.

“Wait, what?  That’s really it?” Dom asked.

“Yep, you just need to sit here for about 30 minutes.  You can change the displays if you want, and you can stream any channel in here.  I’ll come into check on you every 10 minutes or so.  But the machine is recording your vitals, so the staff will be in here shortly if anything goes wrong,” Vivian explained.

“Will there be any side effects?” Dom asked, a kernel of worry knotting in his chest.  He’d heard about the old chemotherapy treatments.  Most of those people got sick.  Really sick.  And he’d need to stay in reasonable health in order to keep earning money inside AO.

“Yes, but they’re minimal.  Mild nausea, some irritation around the IV site, headaches.  They’re all pretty manageable, and most report that they don’t interfere with their daily life,” Vivian reassured him.  “This new treatment is extraordinary.  Unfortunately, many just can’t afford it.”

Of course not, Dom thought sourly.  Someone invented a cure for cancer, and their first thought was about how much money they could make.  The Gambler would be proud…

He was sure all that money was making someone very happy, after all.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Dom finally replied.

“I’ll bet.  You’ll need to come in every few days for the first month, then a couple of times per week after that.  Although, I should also mention that your installment payments will be due before each treatment,” Vivian explained with a wince.

Dom nodded.  That was consistent with what he’d read online.  That should still give him a few weeks or so in-game between treatments, enough time to collect more money.

“Anyway, I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” Vivian said as she turned to leave.

Dom caught her arm gently.  “I just… I just wanted to thank you for what you did.  Signing me up for AO,” he offered tentatively.  He raised his eyes to meet hers.  “You probably saved my life.  And I’m not understating that at all.”

Vivian stared back in surprise, then a flush crept up her cheeks, and her eyes drifted down to the floor.  “It’s nothing, really.  I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Then Dom released her hand, and Vivian stepped out of the room, leaving Dom alone.  He took in the forest around him, taking a deep, calming breath and sinking back into the chair.  Yet, he couldn’t shake the odd thought that flitted through his brain.

Man, this would be a lot more fun if I was back in Aislen—

Dom shook his head.  Maybe he really was going insane.

***

Dom stepped out of the clinic less than an hour later, looking up at the sky, sun shining down upon him.  Driverless vehicles flitted down the nearby street, accompanied by the soft hum of electric engines.  And overhead, the city’s public transportation grid reflected the sunlight, glass tubing stretching out across the city.

He felt surprisingly good.  Better than he’d expected.

Which was great because he had one last task he needed to complete – one he’d been putting off all day.  One he was looking forward to even less than talking to his roommates, his coaches, or the college administration.

Just rip off the damn band-aid.

With a sigh, he tapped his Core.  The implant behind his ear started ringing.  And ringing.  And ringing…

Come on, pick up, Dom thought to himself.

There was a faint click, and another voice spoke into his ear.  “Hey, kiddo.  Sorry about the wait.  I was elbow deep in a machine,” his dad finally said.  “Anyway, what’s up?”

Dom heaved out another deep breath.  “Well, I need to talk to you if you have a few minutes.  It’s… well, it’s pretty serious.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line and then, “Huh, alright.  Are you okay?”

Usually, that damn question would have sent Dom into an emotional tailspin – had him grinding his teeth and coming up with some flimsy excuse to avoid this conversation.  Avoid the reality of his situation.  But after playing AO… after dying thousands of times… well, it didn’t sting quite as badly as he expected.  In fact, the fear was manageable.

“Actually… no, not really,” Dom said.  “You might want to sit down for this.”

Chapter 36 - ROI

“Hey folks, we’re back with the one and only Angry Sam Show!”  The camera wobbled slightly, centering on Sam’s smiling face.  In the background, trees towered overhead, ferns coiling up among the trunks.

“We have something interesting for you today,” Sam continued.  “The boys and I are participating in what’s quickly becoming an informal in-game event.  And a rather popular one.  But, well… I guess you all can see that for yourselves.”

As he finished speaking, the camera pivoted away from Sam, revealing that he was standing in a clearing in the forest with a dirt road leading back toward the north.  Tents had been pitched around him – dozens, at least – forming a sort of makeshift town in the middle of nowhere.  And among those tents strode a vast number of travelers wearing all manner of armor and weapons.  Swords, spears, axes, bows, and guns.  Leather and plate.  Staves and wands.

The view shifted back to Sam.  “These folks have all answered the recruitment message posted by this mysterious player named Smiles.  For those of you that have been living under a rock s, this guy is an up-and-coming player – rumored to be one of the new avatars.  He’s also apparently recruiting.  And these poor saps are trying to make their way to the coordinates he posted.”

Sam raised a finger.  “Only problem?  There’s at least a few hundred miles of jungle between here and there.  No roads.  No towns.  No pitstops.  In fact, this is actually the last safe outpost before we hit the jungle – a previously abandoned resident town.  Now it’s been taken over by travelers and being used as a spawn point—”

He cut off mid-sentence as several multi-colored rifts opened beside him, travelers dropping to the ground – clutching at arms and chests.  Their eyes were wide, and their lungs were heaving as they frantically tried to suck in air.  One man was curled into a fetal position, just twitching there on the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks.  Nearby, the other players looked on with a mixture of worried expressions and smirks.

For his part, Sam just arched an eyebrow, looking at the camera meaningful.  “As you probably gathered from those respawns, this jungle is tough.  Or at least, so I hear.”  He placed a hand to his chest.  “Yours truly hasn’t yet had the privilege of giving it a shot.”

“But we’re about to fix that!” one of his companions spoke up, face popping into frame.  His announcement was followed by a whoop of agreement from the rest of Sam’s team.

Sam just smiled.  “Indeed, we will.  In fact, we’re just about to make our first attempt.  Of course, we’ll keep the camera rolling the whole time for you folks watching at home.”

Sam turned to look at his team – a group of ten.  “What do you say?  You guys ready?”

A cheer answered his question, the sound filling the air and drawing the attention of some of the nearby players – their bleak expressions a stark contrast to the excitement of Sam’s group.

“Alright, then let’s hit it!” Sam declared before pivoting on his heel and marching into the dense green vegetation that lingered nearby.  The road simply dead-ended into the jungle, but there was at least a narrow deer trail, the path likely beaten down by the other players.

The group traveled about a hundred paces down the trail, the sights and sounds of the makeshift camp receding behind them and replaced by a wall of plant life.  Trees loomed above them, and the sun was obscured by a thick canopy, plunging the jungle into a shadowy gloom.  Yet, despite the foreboding setting, Sam and his group chatted animatedly, throwing out theories about what they’d find once they made it to the coordinates.

“Man, this really doesn’t seem so bad,” Sam said, grinning at the camera.  “From listening to those guys back at the camp, they made it sounds like hell on earth.  You know, I actually talked to one guy that’s made nearly 60 attempts.  Can you believe that—”

Sam was cut off as a scream erupted from behind him.

The group whirled, the camera listing slightly…

Only to find that one of their members was missing.

“Where the fuck did Paul go?” someone beside Sam asked.

He just shook his head, a frown now replacing his mocking grin.

There was another rustle behind the group, followed by a muted grunt.  They turned again to discovered bloodstained ferns.  Another of their numbers was missing.

“Shit,” Sam muttered.  “Group up!  Make a circle!” he shouted.

The group was quick to follow his orders, now that two members were down.  They clustered together, creating a ring, and eyeing the jungle that loomed around them.  They were laser-focused on the underbrush, looking for any signs of movement.  They gripped their weapons tightly, and elemental energy curled around their mages’ wands and staves.

That was their first – and last – mistake.

None of them bothered to look up.

But the camera caught the blur as it descended.  It landed with a soft thump, almost entirely silent despite the creature’s bulk.  Two sets of eyes turned toward the camera, hovering above twins sets of jagged fangs.  Then the two-headed panther let out a low growl.  The group all turned toward the sound, jumping in alarm.

And as they did, the camera shifted again, now looking back over Sam’s shoulder.  More shadows peeled away from the jungle, the ferns shifting and swaying as the rest of the pack of panthers closed on the group.  Just as Sam and his teammates tried to attack the panther in the middle, the creatures struck from their flanks.

Screams ripped through the air as the camera listed and swayed erratically.  Mana flashed.  Blood sprayed through the air, and steel clanged – accompanied by the growl and roar of the creatures.  Moments later, the camera finally dropped to the ground and settled, the image frozen on Sam’s unmoving face.

His cheek was pressed into the dirt, blood pooling around his head.  His eyes were listless and unfocused; his chest unmoving.  Above him hovered a beast, crimson droplets dripping from the severed arm wedged between its teeth.

Then the camera went dark.

***

Logging back into the game world was a bit strange for Dom, especially after spending not quite 48 hours in the real world.  It wasn’t that it felt unreal, not exactly.  If anything, it was the opposite.  It felt too natural to glance at the UI in the corner of his vision or swipe at the air to bring up his UI.  He’d actually found himself making those same gestures back in the real world only to feel rather stupid for doing so.

Dom felt strangely comfortable here.  Relaxed.  In his element in a way that had never quite clicked for him back in the real world.

A happy cluck brought his attention back into focus as Wingman darted across the casino floor and jumped up into Dom’s arms.  He nearly toppled over as she struck, swaying under her weight despite his impressive strength.  She promptly stroked her head against his neck, unperturbed by the grunt that escaped his lips.

“Happy to see me, huh?” Dom offered with a small smile.

Wingman just gave an animated cluck in response.

As her excitement began to wear off, he set her down gently, taking in the casino around him.  The place was mostly as he remembered it – a scene of pure chaos.  Goblins covered every inch of the damn space, sitting in front of slot machines, gambling at the tables, and sloshing overfilled mugs of beer.

“Let’s see how things have come along, huh?” Dom offered to Wingman, the bird clucking her agreement.  He was curious to see what had changed in-game during his brief break.  Roughly a week would have passed in here during even that short period.

As they stepped through the casino, Dom immediately noticed a few differences.  The goblins had repaired more of the machines and expanded the floor considerably – bringing much of it back online.  More of the skinnier crafter goblins still worked on the machines that were unlit.  Although, that process mostly seemed to involve beating the machines with heavy wrenches when they got frustrated, denting the metal with each blow.

Dom supposed that was one approach.

However, despite the expansion of the casino, the place was still overcrowded – implying that more goblins had returned to the casino.

Now that’s interesting, Dom thought to himself.

“Well, hello there, Stranger,” the Gambler spoke up as Dom neared the far side of the casino, the god standing behind a familiar empty bar.

“Hey,” Dom offered in greeting, nodding at Oscar, who was perched on the bar.  “This place sure seems… lively.  Where did all these goblins come from?  That village couldn’t possibly have supported this many.”

The gambler shot him a grin as he leaned back against the empty bar, smoothed the fabric of his new suit, and surveyed his kingdom with an appraising expression.  “A lot has changed during your little vacation.  The other goblin camps have caught wind of what was going on and they’ve started migrating to Truggle’s village.  We’ve seen a big uptick in foot traffic.”

He glanced at Dom with a sly grin.  “And my profits are simply glorious.”

“I’ll bet,” Dom grunted.  He cocked his head as he watched the greenskins, however.  He wondered how that had happened – how word had traveled to the other villages.  Had Adrian sent scouts to those other camps, maybe?  He’d have to remember to ask about that.

He turned his attention back to the Gambler, taking in the bar behind him, the counter and shelves smooth and empty.  “Yet you haven’t stocked this bar yet?  With how much the goblins drink, I’d have thought you’d capitalize on that.  You know, collect more of those tokens?”

The gambler’s smile only widened.  “Ahh, but I had a better idea there.  In fact, I think you might like this one.”  He waved at the bar around him.  “This is now the Outfitter’s new shop!” he announced enthusiastically.

Dom just stared back with a deadpan expression.  “Uh, who’s that?”

The Gambler frowned but recovered quickly.  “I thought you’d never ask!” he answered, stepping around the bar.  “Just give me a second, and I’ll go collect the Outfitter.”

Before Dom could question what the hell he was talking about, the Gambler stooped down behind the bar… only to reappear a few seconds later wearing a pair of stained overalls and a baseball cap.  “Howdy there, pardner.”

Dom just stared at him.

The Gambler – err, or Outfitter – stared back.

Even Wingman and Oscar look skeptical.

“Um, so the Outfitter is just you in a hat?” Dom offered finally.

“And with an accent,” he huffed, dropping the act.

“Uh-huh,” Dom grunted noncommittally.  “Anyway,” he continued, “I don’t get what this is supposed to be.  Like you’re the Outfitter, but what do you sell exactly?”

The Gambler’s grin returned in a flash.  “New business idea.  We already sell excitement and enough liquid lubrication to make sure these green idiots lose their tokens.  But I’ve been thinking about a new expansion that would satisfy their other thirsts, if you catch my meaning.”  He watched Dom expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

For his part, Dom was lost.  He looked to Wingman and Oscar, but both creatures just shook their heads slowly.  “Nope.  None of us know what the hell you’re talking about.  You’re going to have to explain.”

Another frown arched the Gambler’s brow.  He let out a sigh.  “Fine, then I’ll show you.”

With that, the Gambler touched a small crystal below the counter.

Dom’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped open as he saw the wood paneling behind the counter swivel and convert, the transition accompanied by the grind and whir of gears working behind the wooden cabinetry.  Items flipped up onto shelves, and racks of equipment rotated into position.  Only seconds later, the formerly empty bar was now filled with merchandise.

That would have been odd enough.  But it was what the Gambler was selling that had Dom staring in shock.  Those shelves were now filled with all manner of weapons and armor, metal gleaming in the glowing light cast by the nearby machines.  Knives and daggers in all shapes and sizes.  Swords, spears, and bows.  What appeared to be a baseball bat?

But the counter itself had also shifted, the wood shimmering and disappearing to reveal a long glass case.  And inside were… well, toys.  That was the best way for Dom to describe them.  Funny-looking glasses.  What appeared to be an over-sized Chinese finger trap.  He swore on his life that there was even a rubber chicken inside that case.  Wingman clucked experimentally at it and tapping the glass with her beak, only to get no response.

It looked like he’d just stepped up to a prize counter at an arcade.

“What is all of this?” Dom muttered.

“Prizes!” the Gambler answered with a wide smile.  “The goblins like spending their coin on booze and gambling, but they also like loot!  And what if your bard friend’s plan works?  We’re going to end up with a number of travelers, many who’ll have a sizable coin collection.  So, what do our heavy hitters do with all those chips?!”  He waved at the prize counter.  “They spend them here to purchase prizes!”

“Like a finger trap?” Dom shot back skeptically.

The Gambler just arched an eyebrow.  “These aren’t normal prizes.  They’ve all been enhanced, let’s say.  I added a dash of chaos.  For example…” he trailed off, grabbing a packet of what sure as hell looked like pop rocks, ripping open the package.  “This is typically a candy in your world, no?”

“Sure…” Dom began slowly.

The Gambler tossed them on the floor nearby, where they promptly exploded in a concussive blast of light and sound – much like a flashbang grenade.  Dom blinked hard, rubbing at his ears to get rid of the ringing.  Even with his Sonic Resistance, that had stung.

Shit, okay then, he thought to himself.

“See?” the Gambler demanded, his eyes gleaming.  “These aren’t regular goodies.  And besides, you stand to benefit.  You can purchase items when you return here during your respawns.  And you already have a number of chips stockpiled.  You’re actually our top earner on the leaderboard,” he explained.

“What leaderboard—” Dom began.

Only for the Gambler to snap his fingers, a board appearing alongside the Outfitters shop, outlined in glowing amber light.  Indeed, Dom noticed his name was first, his coin total listed beside his name.  He had a decent number of chips after his encounter with <The Jackals> and his siege on the goblin village – even after he’d handed out coins to allow them to travel to the casino.

Dom supposed he saw the logic of the Gambler’s plan – at least from a business perspective.  This would allow him to keep gathering more coins.  And as players joined their guild – or, rather, if new players bothered to respond to Adrian’s invitation – they could spend the coins here as well.  Combined with Deathwish, Improvised Weapons, and the stacking bonuses from Roll the Dice, Dom saw some potential there, but still…

The small business owner was staring at the leaderboard, rubbing his chin.  “I was actually thinking about some sort of weekly or monthly award for our top earners.  Just a work in progress right now, mind you.”

Dom rubbed at his temple.  He understood what the Gambler was trying to do.  But he was a bit unclear on the how of it all.  “What does any of this have to do with happiness?” he muttered.

The Gambler snorted.  “Well, prizes are always fun – even if they’re stupid.  But more to the point, I’ve already told you the answer.  I don’t create happiness – I can’t.  But I can create a demand for happiness.  As I said, I’m really more of a god of chaos that’s gone through extensive rebranding.”

“Which has what to do with ‘air’ mana exactly?” Dom asked with a sigh.

“Well, air is pretty chaotic if you think about it.  A mass of particles with the properties of both a gas and a liquid all moving in convoluted and often unpredictable patterns.”  He could see Dom was still staring at him blankly.  “Okay, fine.  Take a simple lightning bolt, right?  How the hell does that spell ever hit anything?  I mean, it’s lightning.  Why doesn’t it arc to nearby metal?  Or just miss entirely, forking into branches until it just peters out?”

Dom’s brow furrowed.  He’d actually never considered that.

The Gambler raised a finger.  “The answer is that an air mage controls that chaos – filtering out all those other possibilities and choosing the one where the lightning blast actually hits its target.  Although, I suppose from your perspective, it looks slightly more seamless.”

Dom could only stare back, his mouth open.

He didn’t have a response to that.

“Maybe we should switch topics before your brain explodes,” the Gambler offered, noticing Dom’s expression.  “Even though you’re being a real downer and shitting all over my great ideas. I got you a present.  Call it a gift for getting my little operation back on its feet.”

“And I’m sure this comes with no strings, right?” Dom replied warily.

The god placed a hand to his chest.  “You wound me, Sir.”

“Uh-huh,” Dom grunted.  “So, what is it?  And will it blow up in my face now or later?”

The Gambler just clucked his tongue at him.  “You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Kid,” he replied, reassuming his southern drawl.  Then he snapped his fingers.

One last panel slid open, revealing a mannequin wearing a familiar ensemble.  It was a dark black suit, embroidered with hints of yellow – although the Gambler had dropped the vest.  Apparently, he didn’t think a 3-piece suit quite fit Dom’s physique.

“Here you go,” the Gambler said.  “I thought you could use some new attire,” he offered, gesturing at Dom’s clothing.

Dom had put the novice gear back on before he’d logged off after their heist.  It was basically indestructible – returning every time he died.  And so, it was one of the only pieces of equipment that could weather his enhanced strength, speed, and damage resistance.  The leather armor he’d worn to raid <The Jackals’> guild hall had barely made it through that single fight.

“This doesn’t look like it’s going to hold up in battle,” Dom offered hesitantly.

“I thought of that,” the Gambler replied.  “This suit is spun from air mana, so even if it’s torn or cut, it will simply reform.  On the flip side, it doesn’t offer any stats – not that you seem to need them.  But I thought it would go splendidly with your new look, especially with your mask.”

“I might have also consulted on this one,” Adrian spoke up from behind Dom.  He turned to find the bard smiling at him, answering his unspoken question.  “I saw you come online on my friends list.  I figured you’d still be here since you logged off in the casino.”

“So, you helped create… this?” Dom asked, waving at the suit.

Adrian shrugged.  “Like I said before, establishing an online persona is important.  It’s just marketing 101, honestly.  And we agreed that this creates a rather imposing visual, especially since you’re a guild leader and a thriving business owner now – or, at least, that’s what we want people to think.  Why don’t you try putting it on?”

“Yup, it’s time for you to suit up!” the Gambler added with a grin.

Dom shrugged and stepped forward, his fingers touching the fabric.  Immediately, a prompt opened before him with the item’s description.

Slick Suit

Crafted from air mana, this suit weighs practically nothing and provides a seamless fit, forming itself to the wearer’s body.  It will not limit or affect your range of movement at all and will repair itself from any amount of damage.  WARNING:  Repair effect doesn’t extend to the player.  But you’ll make a damn fine corpse.

Quality:  A

Durability:  Indestructible

+1 Million to Charisma (too bad this isn’t a real stat).

(Soulbound)

Dom just shook his head, then started putting on his new attire.  He supposed at least it would be a bit better than wearing his regular beige potato sack.  Moments later, he was done.  Dom had to admit the suit clung to him perfectly.  He’d never worn clothing that fit this well before, and the cotton did indeed stretch in impossible ways – not limiting his movements in the slightest.  As the last step, he pulled his mask into place.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” the Gambler murmured.  With a snap of his fingers, the air beside Dom shimmered, and a mirror appeared, allowing him to check out his appearance.

He did look… imposing.  Like a posh serial killer.

Or a really upscale clown.

“It’s just missing something, though,” the Gambler added.  Then he smacked the counter.  “Ahh, I forgot.”  Another flash of mana and a pair of cufflinks appeared in his hand in the shape of dice.  A twitch of his fingers and they floated toward Dom on streamers of air mana, snapping into place neatly.

“There we go, perfect,” the god murmured a moment later.

“And not a moment too soon,” Adrian added, glancing at his UI and frowning.  He looked back to Dom.  “We need to get back to the village.  We were waiting on you.”

“We?” Dom echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Adrian just smiled back.  “Yup.  It’s time for you to meet the new recruits.”

Chapter 37 - Employee Interviews

If the casino was chaotic, the goblin village was a madhouse.

The town was bustling with activity, hundreds of green bodies crammed into the tiny fort.  Some cooking massive native beasts over large spits.  Others polishing stacks of weapons – the metal in much better repair than the swords and axes Dom had seen the goblins use before.  The crafters must have started cranking out better gear, or they’d dipped into their horde.  Even more greenskins were preparing and cleaning a stack of long guns, placing them gently on a nearby rack.

“Are they multiplying?” Dom murmured, half to himself.

“In a way, I suppose,” Adrian answered as he stepped out a multicolored rift, tugging a mask of his own into place.  “Truggle’s group started sending scouts out to the other dungeons, alerting the rest of the goblins about their deal with the Gambler.  It seems they took that as a reason to start migrating here to—"

“Boomtown!”  Truggle roared, one of the nearby huts simultaneously exploding in a shower of wooden fragments – some of which skewered a few goblins standing too close, their bodies sinking to the ground in pools of blood.  The others didn’t seem to mind.

As Dom looked on in surprise, Adrian rubbed at his face, letting out a weary sigh.  “They’ve been demolishing the old huts and replacing them with newer buildings using designs from our world.  I told them they didn’t need to use explosives to remove the huts, and they were just wasting good lumber, but they wouldn’t listen.  And then Truggle claimed that it was his right as village badass to blow them up,” he explained.

This likely explained why the goblins inside the village were too excited and focused on the detonations to pay Dom, Adrian, and Wingman much mind.  They were all clustered around the older structures – more than a few hobgoblins lugging massive barrels of black powder on their backs and setting them next to each building.  To say it was overkill was an understatement.

“Were the other huts insufficient?” Dom asked.

The bard cocked his head.  “In short, yes.  If the rest of the greenskins make their way here, this valley likely won’t hold their entire population – at least, not if they’re inefficient with their space.  Granted, I’m making a few assumptions about the total goblin population.  But, the numbers that have arrived over the last few days have been staggering, and that’s even with the casualties on the hike over.

“A lot of these damned creatures survived apparently,” Adrian muttered.  Although, the look in his eyes said they might not live much longer.

“Okay.  And, uh, Boomtown?” Dom asked.

“It’s their new name for this place,” Adrian grunted.  Although, he noted that Truggle was getting ready to demo another building and made a hasty gesture toward the north.  “Anyway, we need to get moving.  We have people waiting on us.”

They just made it outside the fort’s old barricade before the second blast detonated, sending smoke and debris jetting upward to the joyous cries of the goblins.  Yet Dom didn’t pay that much attention.  It wasn’t like they could permanently hurt each other.  No, his focus was on the area outside the fort.  Previously, this had just been barren dirt marred by a series of stumps.

However, that had changed over the last week in-game.

The stumps had been blasted apart, leaving a series of craters along the ground.  Goblins were working in groups to fill those holes with dirt, their fingers curling around newly-minted shovels.  That must have also been something Whistleknot had whipped up with Adrian’s help.  The goblins appeared to be slowly leveling out the area around the fort, creating a space for them to expand outside the walls of the original camp.

And they definitely needed it.

The field was nearly covered in makeshift tents – hundreds more goblins lingering around the former fort, carousing and sleeping and brawling with one another.  These must be the refugees from the other dungeons that had managed to make it to Boomtown.

As they caught sight of Wingman, several of the goblins let out a whooping cry.  They raced toward her, dropping to the ground, and placing bits of organ meat at her feet.  They all had a red stripe painted along the middle of their bald heads.  And their armor had a strange, crude image painted on it.  It almost looked like a…

“Is that a chicken?” Dom asked, shaking his head as he watched the goblins sycophants maneuvering Wingman onto a raised platform – several hobgoblins lifting it onto their shoulders.  Dom also noted the way their arms and legs strained to hold the chicken’s weight.

“Uh, yeah,” Adrian muttered.  “The Great Cluck Cluck,” he offered with a wince.  “We were right to be worried.  We seem to have started some sort of goblin religion.  They see her as a winged god.  Probably because she brings them food.”

For her part, Wingman seemed to take it in stride, raising her head and puffing out her chest as she surveyed her new minions.  Only occasionally stooping down to snap up a few mouthfuls of meat.  Dom didn’t love the look in her eye.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t go to her head…” he grunted.

With that, Dom turned to inspect the rest of the valley.

Toward the south, where the mouth of the valley loomed, Dom paused as he saw a mass of wood filling the entrance – a towering gate.  He raised his hand to block the harsh sunlight, squinting.  A dizzying array of ramparts had been installed along the top of the gate and the side of the nearby cliff, creating a tiered set of haphazard ramps and perches.  Those were likely perfect for the goblins’ long guns.  The bard must have copied Dom’s strategy in the cave.

“You’ve been busy,” Dom said to Adrian.

The bard shot him a grin.  “Have to protect our new business, don’t I?  The goblins have been harvesting the trees outside of the valley for fresh timber – using hobgoblins to hack them down.  That also has the added benefit of enlarging the clearing.  There’s no cover within about 200 yards of the gate now.”

Adrian waved toward the north, and the pair wound their way through the goblins, Wingman’s entourage following closely behind – the chicken ordering them forward with an imperious cluck.  “Plus, I wanted to prioritize our defenses.  I was worried that <The Jackals> would try to strike again – possibly try to get even.  I’m sure they recognized you after the encounter back in Aislen.”

“Have they made any move yet?” Dom asked, a hollow feeling in his stomach.  He’d secured a precarious foothold back in the real world, but it definitely wasn’t a sure thing.  Not if he couldn’t produce a shitload more money anyway.

Adrian frowned.  “Not yet.  Which is worrying.  Although, I’ve been monitoring the forums closely.  The guild has apparently clamped down on the city, and they’ve also conscripted pretty much everyone – resident and traveler alike.  Needless to say, people aren’t happy.  On the other hand, our crowdfunded contract has skyrocketed.”

“Do we have eyes on the town or what they’re up to?”

“Not exactly.  Although, from the sound of it, they’re focused on fortifying their base of operations first – much like what we’ve done with Boomtown.  I’m guessing we can expect to see a counterattack soon.”

Adrian left the more troublesome part unspoken.

How exactly were <The Jackals> planning to strike back?

Although, Dom would have to put a pin in that for now.

A familiar tunnel loomed before the group, a few dozen goblin guards stationed on either side of the entrance.  Scorch marks still riddled the stone, evidence that the tunnel had been caved in and then excavated only a few short days ago during Sean’s raid and subsequent rescue.  That had actually narrowed the tunnel considerably.  The rescue party must have decided not to excavate the entire area – only creating enough room for Sean and his soldiers to escape.

Another gate had been installed in that space now, constructed of thick, fresh timber.  This one was far more secure than the decoy the goblins had used to sate the traveler raids.  Not that Dom was too worried about someone accessing the tunnels.  They’d have to make it past the mouth of the valley, those new ramparts, and a veritable legion of greenskins.

At a wave from Adrian, the goblins pulled the gate open, and the group entered the cave complex, Wingman’s entourage in tow.  They stepped forward for a few hundred paces until the tunnel opened into a massive cavern… only for Dom to slow in surprise once again.

If the changes to the fort and gate had been drastic, the cave was on another level entirely.

The whole area had been expanded, forming the cavern into a perfect circle.  The walls were now nearly vertical – long lines marring the stone from the pickaxes that had beaten them into submission.  And above that, the makeshift ramparts Dom had designed had been replaced.  The rock had been hollowed out, forming rows of stone bleachers that stretched upward for dozens of feet, rubble indicating a few places that still needed to be completed.

And filling those benches were even more goblins.

“What is this?” Dom asked quietly, standing in the shadows of the tunnel.

“Your new training arena,” Adrian replied.  A pleased smile stretched his lips.  “It’s still a work in progress, but I thought you’d like it.  Besides, we needed a relatively safe place for the goblins to train without damaging anything.”

“Geez.  Do you even need me?” Dom quipped, glancing at the bard.

The man frowned.  “Uh, yes.  Definitely.  These green idiots listen to me, but only grudgingly.  I’m not the Boss and apparently don’t have wings.” he grumbled, gesturing over his shoulder at Wingman where she was perched on her mobile throne.  “For example, I told them to give us some privacy, but they wanted to see the new recruits firsthand.”

Dom could see some truth to the bard’s words.  He’d seen the looks the goblins had been giving him, taking in his new suit and masked face.  That wasn’t fear in their eyes.  Not exactly.  And it wasn’t the zealous devotion in the eyes of Wingman’s followers.  That was respect that gleamed there – an acknowledgment of his strength – as well as something that looked a hell of a lot like hope.  Not that Dom blamed them.  The last hundred years or so had been rough for their kind – their bodies broken down and transformed by dying over and over again.

They were looking for a change.  Some relief.

Dom could certainly relate to that.

“Well, let’s see if I can live up to my title then,” Dom answered finally.

His eyes drifted to the center of the cavern, where a group of travelers stood.  There were more than he’d expected – at least twenty.  They lounged in the center of the cave, most keeping their distance from one another and chatting only in hushed whispers, their eyes watching the crowd of goblins warily.

“So, these are our recruits?” Dom asked.

“Yup.  And the deadline has almost lapsed,” Adrian replied, glancing at his UI.  “So, this might be all there is.”  He glanced at Dom.  “You want me to introduce you?”

He saw the excited gleam in the bard’s eyes through his mask.  Adrian wanted a moment in the spotlight.  And he’d sure as hell earned it with all of the work he’d put in.  This was all his idea, after all.

“Go ahead,” Dom answered.

Adrian stepped forward excitedly, the sunlight streaming down from the hole in the ceiling bringing his form into sharp focus.  The travelers all tensed, even if many didn’t move.  But their eyes were glued on the masked bard as he approached.  For his part, Dom remained in the shadows of the tunnel.  He’d just watch for now and get a sense of who these people were.

“Alright, folks,” Adrian called out, gripping the strap of his guitar case.  “We appreciate you coming all this way.”

“We didn’t come here for you,” a traveler drawled.  “Where’s this Smiles guy?  Some of us have been waiting for forever.”

“You’ve been here less than two hours,” Adrian replied archly.

The man’s eyes flashed, and he stepped forward.  “You want to say that to my face?  I got here, didn’t I?  I’m guaranteed a damn spot in this guild.”

“You should watch your tone,” Adrian replied simply.  His voice had gone cold, and his knuckles white on the strap of his case.

Arrogant, Dom thought.  And from the way the others watched but stayed silent, he could see that they didn’t exactly disagree with the player’s complaint.  It was clear that these players were individually competent, but it was going to take some effort to get them to work together.  They were all lone wolves.

With a swipe of his wrist, Dom brought up his chat window, typing out a short message to Adrian.  Dom was going to revise their introduction a bit.

“Like I need to watch myself with some wannabe bard,” the player shot back at Adrian.  “This ain’t some LARP’ing bullshit.  We ain’t fighting with nerf bats and beanbags.”

This earned him a few chuckles from the others.

Adrian didn’t rise to this taunt, just stared back impassively.  “In that case, why don’t you come at me then?  I’m just a bard, right?  Not a threat at all – just me and my little ‘ol guitar.”

The traveler hesitated, eyeing Adrian warily now, his smirk freezing on his face.  “Or are you worried your… instrument won’t measure up?” Adrian taunted.

The traveler was glaring at him, a low growl escaping his lips.

The tension in the man’s legs was all that gave away his intent.

Then he surged forward in a blur of movement, a series of metal throwing stars hurtling through the air as dark energy coiled around the metal… only to strike at nothing, thudding into the dirt.  Adrian twisted between the missiles without moving from his position, and as the player closed, he didn’t even bother to pull his case free or reach for a weapon.

Instead, the bard just breathed in deeply and then let out a single, high-pitched whistle.

A wave of sonic force rippled from the bard’s mouth in a cone, slamming into the traveler.  He immediately stopped his charge and sunk to the ground, his weapons rattling against the floor as he slammed his palms to his ears.

Adrian strode forward casually, finally pulling the guitar case from his back.  With languid fingers, he opened the case and pulled out his instrument, maintaining that same note the entire time.  The player was trembling now, blood leaking from between his fingers and his eyes wild with pain and fear.  Then the bard took a solid two-handed grip on the neck of his guitar, getting into a good swinging position and taking a few test strokes.

Once he was satisfied with his form, Adrian pulled back on the guitar and finally put some muscle into his swing – the result of days of relentless training in the jungle with Dom.  The guitar hurtled forward, the metal reinforced edge colliding with the player’s neck.  The skin and muscle held for just a moment before giving way.

Seconds later, the traveler’s corpse slumped to the ground, his head smacking against the far side of the cavern.  Adrian lifted his arms into the air.  “Home run!” he cried, the goblins in the stands roaring their approval.

Then he turned to the rest of the recruits.  “Does anyone else have any problems with my class?  Think I’m weak?  That this is a guild for role-players?”

Silence met his words.  Dom’s eyes were on those recruits.  They were watching Adrian with a new appreciation now.  Skepticism and irritation were replaced with grudging respect and fear.  Although, he noted that a few still didn’t seem fazed.  Their expressions were more considering, as though weighing how to take on the bard.

Too bad that was only one of his tricks.

“Didn’t fucking think so,” Adrian muttered.  “Now, if the theatrics are through, it’s time to move on to the main event,” he continued, waving at the entrance to the arena.  “You came all this way to meet the man, the legend – Smiles himself.  And here he is!”

The goblins let out an excited cry as Dom stepped into the arena.

He could feel the players’ eyes on him – taking in his suit, his mask, his hulking frame.  They were more cautious after Adrian’s demonstration. Then their eyes shifted to the chicken perched on the platform behind him and her green skinned entourage. Still, no one spoke, but the skepticism in their gaze gave them away.  They weren’t entirely convinced that he was the real deal or if he was just putting on a good show.  He’d have to fix that.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Dom said as he neared and the shouts of the greenskins subsided.  “And thank you for coming all this way—”

Dom was interrupted as an explosion detonated outside.  Although, this one sounded much closer than the village – almost like it was at the entrance to the cave.  Shouts soon followed, the goblins screaming a warning.  Dom turned in time to see an electric blur racing down the tunnel, teleporting forward every few seconds in a dazzling blast of lightning.

Sean? Dom wondered to himself.  Then hesitated.  No, this person was smaller, their silhouette visible for a fraction of a second on each teleport.

Seconds later, a young girl skidded to a stop nearby.  She couldn’t have been older than fourteen, her thin frame wrapped in tight-fitting leather armor and a pistol gripped in each hand.  Her chest heaved, and her skin was coated in sweat.  Yet despite her situation – and the shouts of the goblins outside – she was smiling from ear to ear.

The girl glanced at Dom, taking in his appearance.  “Whew!  Did you guys know there are like a shitload of mobs out there?  They seem kinda angry,” she offered.

“Yeah, they’re allies,” Adrian drawled, eyeing the girl skeptically.

Lauren looked at him in surprise.  “Really?  With regular mobs?  Well, then a bunch of them are bleeding out.  Or just dead.  I was in too much of a hurry to pull my punches—” She hesitated suddenly, her eyes widening.  “Shit, did I make it on time?”

As the guards raced down the tunnel, Dom just waved them off.  He couldn’t help but notice that more than a few were limping.  He’d have to work on their training if they couldn’t even take a young girl.

“Yes, you did, um…” Adrian trailed off, waiting for her name.

“Oh, it’s Lauren,” she replied.  Then her eyes shifted past Adrian to Dom.

“Great, well then you can just join the others—” Adrian began.

In a flash of lightning, Lauren had teleported past the bard and now only a few feet away from Dom and inspecting him closely.  “Huh, are you the guy then?  Smiles?”

“Yes, I am,” Dom answered simply.

“Well, you’re certainly a big guy and you’ve got some interesting fashion sense.  But you don’t look that tough,” Lauren observed, tapping the muzzle of a pistol to her lips.  “Why don’t we just cut to the chase?  I’m not much for waiting—”

Even before she finished speaking, Lauren had raised her pistols and fired.

Dom didn’t bother to move.  The projectiles pinged off two of his missile shields as his Piercing Resistance activated.  By the time the muzzle flashes dissipated, Lauren had vanished – nowhere to be seen on the cavern floor, which meant she could only be in one place.

Dom immediately raised his arm above his head, just in time to hear another two blasts.  He felt a sting along his palm as he caught the bullets.  Yet Dom didn’t spare any attention to that.  Instead, he twisted to the side – just as another blast echoed from his back.  Another two missiles sped past, smashing into the rock wall on the other side of the arena.

Then Lauren reappeared nearby in another flash of lightning, frowning at him.

Dom just observed her calmly, slowly opening his fist and picking the metal from his palm – the bullets smashed flat.  Small traces of blood marred his palm, the wounds already knitting themselves closed.  She was going to have to hit something more vital to cause any lasting damage, but she was highly mobile and was a hell of a shot.  Although, from the way the other travelers were staring at him, Dom’s reaction speed and resilience weren’t exactly normal either.

“Impressive,” Dom said simply.  “To aim and fire after teleporting and while upside down.  And that was just a setup for the attack from the rear.  You planned a few moves ahead.”

Luckily, she’d already given away her core skill set with her flashy arrival.

“Not that it hurt you at all,” Lauren grunted in irritation.  “You even caught those two bullets barehanded.  Not enough power,” she muttered, glaring down at her pistols.

“Your issue isn’t power,” Dom explained.  “With some training, I could help you enhance what you’re already good at – your speed and precision.  If you’re interested, you’re more than welcome to join <Death and Taxes>,” he offered, making a sudden decision – the rest of the recruits forgotten for the moment.

Lauren hesitated, her expression faltering.  “Really?  You don’t have any problem recruiting a kid?  Into an assassination guild?”

Dom snorted out a laugh.  “No.  Not at all.  You want the spot or not?”

An instant later, a wide smile split her lips.  “I think I like you,” she offered.  “The rumors clearly weren’t bullshit.  Let’s do this,” Lauren said, accepting his grip.

“Fantastic,” Dom answered.  “Now, you can sit this next part out,” he offered, waving at the stands.  “I still have a bit more work to do.”

Lauren shrugged and then teleported up into the bleachers, the goblins whooping and patting her on the back.  Dom swore he also saw one hand her a mug of beer, Lauren staring at the contents skeptically before tipping it back.  Maybe he was a bad influence…

But he had other things to worry about right now.

Dom turned back to the other recruits.  Their expressions were now conflicted.  They still weren’t entirely convinced – not even after Adrian’s and Dom’s demonstrations.  That was okay.  He didn’t blame them.  And he had a way to deal with that.

“Okay, now that we’re all here and settled, it’s time to move on to the audition,” Dom declared.  He noted the way they all started in surprise at that.

“What do you mean by audition?  I thought the audition was making it here,” a woman spoke up.  She was holding an ornate wand, her robes marking her as a mage – even though her affinity was unknown.

“Your name?” Dom grunted.

“Vanessa,” she answered in a clipped voice.

“Well, Vanessa, that was just the first step,” Dom replied with a shrug.  “A way to weed out the chaff.  But I need to assess each of your skills myself.  Besides, if you all really intend to join <Death and Taxes>, then I’ll be your guild leader.  You’ll need to take direction from me.  And you certainly can’t take orders from someone that you don’t respect.”

Dom cracked his knuckles.  “So, the easiest way to deal with that is for you to fight me.  Anyone who lasts a couple of minutes gets to join.  Sound fair?” he asked, unable to fully remove the taunting tone from his voice.

Silence met that question, the travelers not moving an inch.

“And what about Lauren?” Vanessa demanded, waving at the girl where she swung her legs along the wall, watching with keen interest.

Dom shrugged.  “She already passed.”

A timid young man, bags strapped to his wiry frame, finally spoke up, glancing at the other travelers skeptically.  “Um, but do you mean you intend to fight all of us?  At the same time?”  Dom just waited, raising an eyebrow.  “Oh, and my name is, uh, Walt,” he added.

Dom’s smile widened.  “Of course.  You’ve all reset your spawn point to the entrance of this cavern, right?  So, no need to worry.  When you die, you’ll just return here.”

None of them missed the fact that he’d only mention their deaths.

He could see a few frowns now.  More glaring at him like he was mocking them.  It seemed some were still arrogant – even after his impromptu sparring match with Lauren and the arduous journey here to Boomtown.  This would help with that too.  Pride was important, but it needed to be tempered for them to act as a team.

Dom swept his arms open.  “Any time you’re ready.”

He could feel excitement humming in his veins – a familiar sensation welling in his chest.  It had been a while since he’d faced strong opponents.  And his break in the real world only had him hungering for that surge of adrenaline that came with walking the razor’s edge between life and death.  He couldn’t wait to see what they were capable of.

Chapter 38 - Onboarding

Dismembered bodies littered the arena – limbs strewn across the stone, splattering the rock with patches of crimson.  Vacant eyes stared off into space.  Those were the travelers that had fallen quickly.  They’d barely lasted 60 seconds.

Now only a handful remained – haggard, their chest heaving.  They eyed Dom warily, circling him slowly and beginning to work together.  Perhaps they were hoping to wait out the timer that floated in his peripheral vision, gradually ticking down.

“This all you got?” Dom taunted.  “I thought you all could take me solo.”

Silence met his words, the travelers just watching.

“Well, then I guess I’ll take the fight to you.”

Dom surged forward in a blast of speed, the rock beneath his feet cracking as he took off.  He barreled toward the weakest of their ranks.  Walt’s eyes widened as he saw Dom barreling toward him like a human wrecking ball.  He tried to slide down into the ground only for Dom to release a Challenging Roar that briefly stunned him, forcing his palms against his ears.  Unable to keep casting, Walt was stuck there, half embedded in the rock and dirt.

Dom raised his fist back as he neared.

Walt closed his eyes…

Only for Dom’s fist to pass through his body.

Then Walt’s hand landed on Dom’s shoulder as he passed.  Dom’s feet immediately sunk into the earth, dropping rapidly until the stone was up to his thighs.  The rock seemed to re-solidify, locking him firmly in place.  No, that wasn’t quite right.  His punch had gone through Walt, and then the young man had grabbed him, so whatever he touched must be able pass through the earth.

Dom watched as Walt emerged from the ground nearby – just out of range of Dom’s shout – shaking what appeared to be mud from his ears.  Dom saw the puddles littering the ground.  The remains of Vanessa’s ice magic.  Clever.  The shout would still have hurt, but those plugs had allowed the earth mage to resist the stun effect.

The rest of the recruits abruptly disappeared, their bodies shattering into icy fragments.  They reappeared in a cluster about a dozen yards away.  Icy energy still hovered around Vanessa’s wand.  He hadn’t even noticed when she’d replaced the remaining travelers with illusions.  She must have used an opening while Dom was taking out one of the other recruits.

Sapphire energy spiraled around Vanessa’s wand, and ice abruptly coated Dom’s body, further locking him down.  On top of that, he could feel his weight increase, as though someone had increased the gravity severalfold – Walt now channeling emerald energy from a distance.  To top it all off, Dom sensed heat above him and looked up to find a massive ball of flame hovering above the arena.  The older woman was shoving mana into that spell at an incredible rate, the flaming sphere only continuing to widen and grow with each passing second.

Meanwhile, the goblins roared their approval at this combination of abilities, stomping their feet in sync and causing the ground to tremble and vibrate – thudding in time with Dom’s heartbeat.  A smile pulled at his lips.  This was finally getting fun.

Chaotic Blessing:  Luck Inversion

Your current luck modifier is (+10.3).

Seriously?  You might have overplayed your hand here…

Dom’s fingers twitched, and the notice disappeared.  He stood still, just watching them.  Noting the sweat on Walt’s brow.  The way Vanessa’s hands trembled.  The burns rippling away from the older woman’s arms.  They were tired.  Haggard.  Even after only minutes of fighting.

Despite that, they’d formed roles on the fly.  Illusion.  Mobility.  Crowd control.  Striking.  They’d begun working together after they’d seen him take out the others.  No doubt they’d formed a group and were using the in-game chat.  It was a good play.  After Dom’s encounter with Sean, he’d learned he was weak against magical attacks, particularly ones that immobilized him.

If they’d had Lauren helping, they might have actually been able to take him out.

“It ends now,” Vanessa bit out, the ice wrapping Dom’s limbs thickening as she burned through what was no doubt the last of her mana after maintaining that many illusions.  And yet, her voice wavered as she saw that Dom was standing there calmly.

Unfortunately for them, after Sean’s betrayal, he’d given this situation some thought.

Back in the real world, this move would have been impossible.  A pipe dream.  Something out of a story or movie.  But inside AO, Dom’s body had few limits he couldn’t overcome with training.  And he’d certainly endured far more than the average player.

He tensed his calves, arms, core, and chest.  Once.  Twice.  Then he picked up the pace until his muscles trembled and shook violently.  And that incredible strength he’d cultivated from weeks of carrying that damn barrel – of racing through the forest.  From dying over and over and over again to any manner of beasts.  Well, it was about to pay off.

Walt’s eyes widened as he saw the stone around Dom’s legs crack, then splinter.  The ice soon followed, fractures forming in the surface.  His entire body was trembling viciously now, shaking so hard that it was vibrating apart those dense materials.  And he could see their stamina fading and mana depleting.  They were strong, but they had won their previous battles decisively – through overwhelming force.  Those fights had lasted mere moments.

However, Dom had been focused on survival.

And survival was a battle of attrition.  It was outlasting.  Enduring.  Getting back up over and over again until his enemy couldn’t run or fight back any longer.

“Hit him now!” Vanessa shouted, eyeing the older woman, a note of desperation entering her voice.  The mana from her wand was already fading.  Walt had already sunk to the ground, his mana depleted and the Gravity Well receding.  He’d burned too much on that last gambit.

“Almost there…” the other lady ground out, flames coiling along her staff.

All at once, Dom flexed, and the bindings around him exploded in a blast of rock and ice – sending fragments rocketing across the cavern.  The ball of flame crashed down toward him, but Dom was ready for it.  He picked up a jagged sheet of rock, holding it like a makeshift shield as he activated Bull Rush, leaping straight up toward the flame.  He slammed into the supercharged Fireball.  For an instant, he hung in the air, fire licking around the stone and searing Dom’s skin.

Dom used that critical moment to his advantage, ignoring the pain and pivoting in the air, kicking off the rock and using the Fireball’s momentum to send him speeding back toward the ground.  That force was enough to shift the Fireball’s trajectory.  It shot back up into the cavern’s ceiling, the flames rolling out across the rock in a concussive blast that sent rocky fragments raining down upon the goblins – the greenskins erupting with a roar of excitement and pain.

Meanwhile, Dom barreled toward the cluster of haggard recruits, their mana depleted.  Even as he neared them, he sucked in a deep breath and released a Challenging Roar.  The air in the cavern trembled, and the recruits were stunned by the blast as he crashed back into the stone like a meteor, sending chips of rock flying.  The shards of rock sliced through their armor, leaving bloody trails across their exposed skin.

He grabbed at Vanessa’ robes, pulling his fist back and then launching it forward—

Only to freeze as a chime went off.

Dom dropped her to the floor, settling back onto his heels, his health regeneration already knitting his burnt flesh back together as he eyed the recruits.  Walt had sunk to his knees, trembling and muttering to himself.  Vanessa just lay on the ground in shock, her mouth open as she stared at the ceiling.  And the older lady had been knocked from her feet by his impact, shaking her head and blood trickling down her scalp where it had struck the floor.

“Congratulations,” Dom announced, glancing at the timer in his UI – which had just struck zero.  “Looks like you all passed.”

None of the recruits looked pleased by the news.

***

“Woo, that shit was epic!” Lauren shouted from the edge of the ring.

With a few short flashes of lightning, she suddenly reappeared on the floor arena, standing overtop the crater Dom had formed in the floor, peering down into the hole.  “How did you manage to get free, though?” she asked, glancing up at him.  “I mean, you definitely don’t look like you’ve skipped going to the gym… but still.”

Dom just shrugged.  “I clenched my muscles rapidly.”

“You did what now?” Walt asked, staring at Dom wide-eyed from the floor.  He looked down at Dom’s legs.  “You were strong enough to break up solid stone and Vanessa’s ice?”

“You have to be cheating or exploiting,” Vanessa ground out through clenched teeth, her fingers balled into tight fists.  “That was complete bullshit.”

Dom met her gaze evenly – not responding to her anger or wounded pride.  “No, that was training.  The same training I’m willing to offer you all if you still wish to join <Death and Taxes>.”

“Well, you can count me in,” the older woman said, the only recruit to push herself upright, wipe the blood from her forehead and offer a hand to Dom – a grin plastered across her face.  “That was simply splendid.”  It seemed she harbored no ill will after their trouncing.

Dom accepted her grip.  “I’m glad you think so.  And I’d gladly include you among our first members.  You packed one hell of a punch with your Fireball, uh…” he trailed off, waiting for her name.

“Willow,” she offered.  “Like my late husband used to say, the best defensive is a good offensive.  You blast those motherfuckers hard and fast.  Worked in business and seems to work just as well in my retirement,” she explained, waving at the game world.

“I take it you’ve put all your points in Intelligence?” Dom offered.

“You bet your ass,” she shot back.

That would also explain why she looked to be in the worst shape.  Dom’s impact and her fall appeared to have shaved off a decent chunk of health.  But that was perfect.  He could compensate for that with training, making her less of a glass cannon.  Training Intelligence would have been a much more challenging endeavor – if it was even possible.

“Ooooh, I like the feisty fire grandma,” Lauren commented.

“If we join, what’s our cut?” Walt asked, rising to his feet and eyeing Dom cynically.  “This is a PVP guild, right?  Like you intend to pick up contracts?”

Dom glanced at Adrian where the bard had dropped down into the arena, pacing toward the group.  “Indeed, we do.  As we said in our post, the cut is 50/50.  50% goes to the guild.  The remainder is split among the individuals participating in each contract.”

Walt sniffed, tilting his head and eyeballing Dom and Adrian.  “Are you kidding?  You two alone could solo most contracts I’ve seen.  You’re really giving up that much?”

“Look, I’ll level with you,” Dom answered with a sigh.  He didn’t want to reveal the real reason he was doing this, but he could still be as honest as possible.  “I’m not interested in screwing you all over – or anyone else we recruit.  I want to create a sustainable guild.  One where you have an incentive to work together.  This solo shit?  It won’t work long-term.  Our conflict with <The Jackals> is proof enough of that,” he added.

This earned him a few nods from the group of recruits.  Clearly, they’d seen the crowdfunded contract that Adrian had set up.  Destroying a guild was a tall order for two people.  And this likely wouldn’t be the only large-scale conflict they would face.  Besides, it was clear to Dom that these travelers had all experienced their own challenges playing alone.  Otherwise, they wouldn’t have bothered to make this trip.

Adrian chuckled, glancing at Walt.  “And if you need a more self-interest motive… well, however much we could make alone, we could make much, much more together.”

Walt nodded slowly.  That point had resonated with him.

Lauren eyed the masked pair.  “What about rules?  Is anything off-limits?  Theft?  Murder?  Arson?” she added with a small smile and a glance at Willow, who just tipped her head at the small girl respectfully.

Dom had been giving that some thought too.  When he’d first confronted the goblins and then Sean and his guild members, he’d been wary of attacking others.  But that reservation had disappeared quickly.  This was about survival – both in-game and out.  Besides, the damage was transient here.  There was only one hole in that logic.  One group that didn’t come back.

“Any contract is on the table,” he answered solemnly.  He raised a finger.  “But there are some exceptions.  Nothing that violates the TOS or would bring down the gamemasters on us.”  He’d seen videos of those overpowered assholes at work, and they didn’t need that kind of trouble.  “So, no torturing players, rape, etc.  That shit should go without saying.”

They all nodded.  That was fair.

“And if possible, avoid killing the residents,” Dom added.

Lauren raised an eyebrow at that.  “Uh, not to be that person, but why?”

Willow nodded thoughtfully and said, “Because they’re useful, and they don’t come back.  They can also create contracts and add to them.”  Dom glanced at her in surprise.  “As I said, I have a head for business,” she offered in answer to his unspoken question.  “That crowdfunded contract didn’t get that large from travelers alone.  And I’ve seen what the residents of this world have to offer.  We’re just babes in the woods right now.  They’ve lived here for centuries.  Who knows what they might offer in the future.”

The others were following that, considering expressions on their faces.  Dom saw agreement there.  Adrian cocked his head as he watched the recruits.  Dom could almost read his mind.  This was a good first group – better than they could have hoped for.

Only one person had remained silent.

Dom looked to Vanessa, the water mage noticing his attention.  Her expression was dark.  She was an outlier.  A battle was happening in her head between pride and pragmatism.

“Well?” Dom asked.  He didn’t have to elaborate.

She huffed out a breath.  “I don’t know about this,” she muttered.

“Because I beat your ass – even outnumbered?” Dom asked, not pulling any punches.

Anger flared in her eyes, but she forced herself to master her expression, staying quiet.

“Look, I don’t know what bullshit you’ve gone through in the real world or in this game,” Dom offered.  “And this place sure as hell isn’t your grandparents’ videogame – no offense,” he offered to Willow, who just waved it off with a smile.  “The truth is that you’re strong.  Really strong.  But you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t acknowledge that you need others.”

Vanessa grimaced at that, her fingers rubbing at her wrists, where Dom noticed scars marred her skin.  That must have been a gruesome injury to leave a mark on respawn.  He’d experienced that firsthand, many more marks riddling his body.

“If you want to do this, you need to shift your perspective.  I’ve lost too,” Dom continued, not unkindly.  “I know what that feels like – more than you could understand,” he added, pulling off his suit jacket, then unbuttoning his shirt.  As he pulled away the cloth, his skin came into view for the first time.  A grayish green, crisscrossed with so many scars that there weren’t any smooth patches of flesh left any longer.

Vanessa just stared, swallowing hard.  He heard a gasp from Willow, and the other two looked on with wide eyes.  The sight before them spoke of hundreds – even thousands – of battles lost.  Lives lost.  Pain and grueling hardship.

“However strong you are, you can be so much more powerful with support,” Dom said.  “I’m not building a guild that will act like a bunch of strangers.  Just another PVP guild full of self-important assholes.  I intend to build a guild that will be fucking unstoppable.  That when people hear our names – see our tags – they don’t hesitate.  They run as far and fast as they can.”

Vanessa raised her eyes to his, and he saw that yearning there – one Dom knew well.  To get stronger.  To avoid the pain and shit and despair that came with losing.  To become unkillable.

She ground her teeth together.  “Strong enough to kill an avatar?” Vanessa asked.

The others looked at her in shock.

But Dom didn’t even hesitate.  “No fucking question.”

He saw the decision in her eyes long before she spoke the words.  “Then let’s do it.”

Dom nodded.  He looked to the rest of them, waving at the air.  “Then you need only sign the contract,” he offered.  He’d drawn it up ahead of time with some help from Adrian.

They all stared off into space, their eyes skimming from side to side as they read through the content.  It was pretty simple – just reflecting the terms they’d discussed.

Willow hesitated, a frown tugging at her lips.  She looked back to Dom.  “I think we should add a few more provisions here,” she suggested.

Dom’s brow pinched together.  “Such as?”

The older woman cocked her head.  “I’ve been around a bit.  Fucked over my fair share of other people.  What I’ve learned is that memories are long.  People don’t forget easily.  There are going to be risks if we start screwing over other players and guilds.  Hence, your masks,” she offered, waving at Dom and Adrian.

Willow eyed the others.  “And that also means we’re vulnerable to each other.  The more infamous our guild becomes – that we each become – the more lucrative it will be to sell each other out.”  The others were frowning now.

“What are you suggesting?” Adrian asked.

Willow looked back at the bard.  “Mutually assured destruction.  The contract should include our personal information.  Name.  Date of birth.  Address.  Work.  Contact info.  If we breach the terms of this contract or screw over the guild… well, that information gets released.  We’re immediately dox’d to the world.”

Dom was staring at her now.  This lady played for keeps.  Clearly.

He side-eyed Adrian, and the bard just nodded slightly.

“The rest of you cool with that?” Dom asked.

They hesitated, but then nodded slowly.  It was in each of their best interests.

“Fine…” Dom said slowly, swiping at the air.  He quickly updated the contract and then pushed it back to the group – a prompt now appearing before him and Adrian.  As a group, they all filled in the requisite information and hit accept.  Amber energy flashed, and Dom’s UI soon dinged repeatedly as each new member was officially inducted into the guild.

“Congratulations and welcome!” Adrian spoke up finally, walking up to the group.

However, the celebration was interrupted as flashes of multi-colored light ripped open the air near the front of the cave – the other failed recruits respawning.  They looked… unhappy.

Adrian let out a sigh, glancing at Dom.  “I’ll take care of this.”

He just nodded as the bard set off toward the travelers.  Dom suspected a few might need to be “convinced” to give up and go home.  But the bard was more than capable of handling that problem – at least, judging from the shouts and then screams that soon echoed behind him.

The new members were all looking past Dom, distracted by what was no doubt a gruesome sight.  “Don’t worry about that,” Dom said, clapping his hands.  “We need to start your training.  We don’t have any time to waste with this upcoming conflict with <The Jackals>.  And we have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Uh, like what exactly?” Lauren asked hesitantly.  Dom had indeed been light on the details of their supposed “training” – a realization that was starting to dawn in each of their eyes.

“Well, two things first.  I need you all to push your Character Status and skill lists to me, now please,” Dom instructed the recruits.

They all hesitated but grudgingly did what he asked.

“And the second thing?” Walt asked tentatively.

Dom just chuckled and snapped his fingers.  A booming roar suddenly echoed from the stands as the goblins in attendance took to their feet.  They surged toward the edge of the arena before barreling over the side – landing with heavy thuds upon the mixture of rock and dirt.  Slender goblins.  Crafters who needed some combat experience.  And heavy hobgoblins wielding massive two-handed axes.  There were more than a hundred.

At the same time, a shout went up from the front of the arena, and a heavy gate crashed down into the floor, sending a vibration along the cave.  The recruits were now effectively locked inside – eying the goblins with some concern.

“So, these green guys here are allies – of sorts,” Dom explained.  “They only respect strength of arms.  Oh, and unlike many NPCs you’ve encountered in this world, they all respawn and can rebind their respawn point.  In their case, they’re bound to this cave, just like you all.  They’re going to be helping with your initial training.”

The recruits were looking worried now.

“Uh-huh.  Helping how?” Willow asked.

“If you want to stay in <Death and Taxes>, you need to obtain an important skill.  It’s called Deathwish and dramatically increases your respawn time,” Dom explained.

“And we get this skill from fighting goblins?” That was Vanessa this time, mana already pooling around her hand as she sniffed dismissively at the greenskins.

Dom just chuckled.  “Nah.  That would be too easy.  You obtain the skill by dying – a lot.”

The group tried to turn and look at him at that point, but they no longer had the opportunity.  The greenskins couldn’t suppress their excitement anymore – not after witnessing that epic duel.  They all charged forward, their feet thundering across the arena, a savage glee filling their eyes.  Soon that same expression would be reflected in the gaze of their new members.

Dom’s guess was that it might just take them a couple hundred deaths or so.

Chapter 39 - Corporate Warfare

A few hours later, Dom found himself perched in a tree, a hundred or so feet above the ground, with his legs kicked up on another nearby branch.  Wingman was curled in his lap, her feathers smoothed flat as he pet her head – occasionally letting out a slow whistle as she napped.

The pair were taking a break.

Dom had left Adrian back in Boomtown to watch over their recruits.  It would take them some time to acquire Deathwish, but despite Willow’s precautions, he also didn’t trust them – not quite yet anyway.  Adrian also needed to verify their personal details.  That would take time.  And then there were also the goblins.  Left to their own devices, they were just as likely to destroy their new town and its fortifications.  So, the bard was acting as a nanny of sorts – with the permission to kill anyone that didn’t listen.

Meanwhile, Dom had gone to gather more supplies.  The greenskins’ mines could produce ore and the materials they needed for their gunpowder.  But they were still light on many of the other materials they would need to craft better weapons and armor.  Whistleknot had given Dom a list of valuable resources that the goblins had difficulty acquiring themselves.

Adrian had tried to get Dom to take some of the goblins with him, but he’d turned the bard down.  Maybe later, he could work on training some of the greenskins.  Right now, however, they were just going to slow him down, especially with the winding circuit he’d planned through the jungle.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, Dom pulled up his map.  Adrian had marked the locations of the other goblin dungeons – or at least a close approximation based on what Truggle and the other greenskins could recall.  The local goblins had been trickling into Boomtown of late.  But Dom suspected this temporary ceasefire with <The Jackals> would be ending soon.  If he were Booker, his focus would be first on fortifying Aislen – Dom’s recent raid pointing to a few… vulnerabilities in the city’s defenses.  After that?  Well, he’d go on the offensive.

Which meant that Dom needed to consolidate his own forces.  The goblins weren’t exactly masters of strategic thinking anyway.  But spread out, they would be even easier pickings.  Dom wasn’t sure what Booker would do to the greenskins, especially if they could simply respawn.  However, the guild leader’s introductory speech was still fresh in Dom’s mind.  There were other ways to cripple an enemy force – even one that was semi-immortal.

He swept away the map, nudging Wingman.  “C’mon,” he urged the bird.  “Break’s over.  We need to get a better view.”  The chicken opened a sleepy eye, glaring at him.

“Don’t give me that look.  It’s not my fault you’ve gotten fat and lazy being fed by the goblins,” Dom shot back with a grin.

This earned him a low, angry whistle, but Wingman rose to her feet and shook out her feathers – then gave him another stare that said, “Well.  I’m ready then, asshole.”

Dom just chuckled, pushing himself to his feet in one easy movement.  He crouched and leaped, snagging a branch a dozen or so feet above him and then swiftly scaling the massive tree.  He climbed and climbed until he reached the upper canopy – a few well-placed Challenging Shouts fending off any monkeys or birds stupid enough to mess with him.  He was an apex predator now.  And the local wildlife had begun to reluctantly accept that fact.

Though, it did mean that his luck multiplier had dropped to rock bottom levels.

Soon, the tree cover broke apart, giving Dom an unimpeded view of the area around him, bright sunlight suddenly shining down on his skin.  Another swipe at the air, and he brought up his map again.  Yellow waypoint markers loomed around him – the approximate locations of the goblin camps.  He was near one already.  The dungeon was only a few miles away, nestled up against one of the rock islands.  Truggle had said this one was entirely underground.

Hmm.  Maybe I can stop there, then loop around to the others—

A massive blast suddenly rocked the nearby forest, trees and limbs spewing up into the air accompanied by a massive cloud of billowing smoke.  The sound soon followed, booming out across the jungle, sending a flock of rainbow-colored birds spiraling up into the sky.  And overtop that smoke and carnage lingered a familiar yellow marker.

“The goblin dungeon?” Dom muttered to himself.

Before he could react, more blasts echoed in the distance, sending up similar plumes of smoke.  And overtop each one was a waypoint marker.  Dom exchanged a look with Wingman, who let out a high pitch whistle – the chicken equivalent of a growl.

He could feel his own anger responding, his fingers tightening around a nearby branch and the wood cracking and splintering.  The goblins could have blown themselves up – it was certainly possible.  They were little green idiots.  But every single goblin camp?  At the same time?  His gut told him that was too much of a coincidence.  That they wouldn’t detonate their own camps, no matter how crazy they were.  No, the more likely answer was an attack.  And if Dom was right, then Booker had already begun going on the offensive.

Yet, there was only one way to find out.

“You want to go see what’s up?” Dom grunted at Wingman.

The chicken just let out a squawk – her battle cry echoing across the forest and her one good eye gleaming at the prospect of new food.  For his part, Dom couldn’t help but feel a familiar, simmering burn in his chest, his heart thudding and adrenaline already beginning to course through his veins.  Auditioning the recruits had been entertaining, but he was looking forward to a real fight – one where he didn’t have to think or worry or wring his hands.  Where he didn’t have to consider his enemies’ motives or feelings.  He wanted that clarity that came with simply surviving, where morality and planning were blown out the damn window.

So, Dom stood, dropped his barrel full of supplies – placing a marker on this spot just in case he died.  And then, he stepped off the branch without hesitation, plunging downward into the jungle below.  He only looked back to smile maniacally at Wingman, who was speeding along behind him – a feathered arrow pointed straight down.

This was going to be cathartic.

***

Amy grunted, pushing herself back to her feet and swiping away the sweat that covered her brow, despite the gesture being futile.  The moisture was already beading on her skin once more, mixing with the smoke and dust that drifted through the jungle.  The combination created a muddy mixture that clung to her face and armor.

This fucking game, she grumbled to herself.  Sometimes, it’s a little too realistic.

Although, occasionally, that worked in her favor.  Like now, as she and the other members of her raid team witnessed the carnage before them.  They had blown apart half the cliff face, destabilizing the side of this mountainous island and creating a makeshift rockslide.  Several hundred tons of rock and debris had come barreling down that cliff, forcing the group to flee into the trees looking for cover.

They’d barely made it in time.  A billowing cloud rocketed through the trees, concealing rocky fragments that ripped at the bark of the nearby trees.  The ground shook so violently that it had knocked Amy’s team to the ground.  Although, maybe that had been a blessing, allowing them to avoid most of the hail of stone missiles.

“You all alright?” her raid leader grunted.

He just received nods and mutters in return.  Amy glanced at her UI, confirming that the raid icons were all glowing a bright green.  They were alive, at least the members that had made it this far.  They’d lost a third of their raid team on the way out here.  And the men and women that remained were left battered and beaten.

“That it?” she asked her raid leader.  “I could use a bath… and maybe a break,” she added under her breath.  Booker had been running them ragged lately.

She’d heard the rumors about this Dom guy, but still, this seemed like overkill.

“Yeah,” he replied, checking his chat log and typing out a quick message, likely updating his superior officer that they’d completed their mission.  Judging by the cascade of explosions in the distance, so had the others.  He glanced at Amy, his expression sympathetic.  “And I feel you.  I could use a bath too.  Or six.”

She winced.  Damn, he’d heard that.  It was hard enough being one of the only women on the team – she didn’t relish other players seeing any weakness.  Dudes could be condescending assholes, even in this day and age.

“Okay, folks, let’s group up and—” their raid leader began, cutting off at the sound of a faint whistle coming from above.  His brow furrowed as he started to raise his head, hand drifting to his weapon.

Only to see a dark blur blazing down toward them.

“Ambush!  Above!” Amy shouted, following his gaze.

The rest of the raid scattered, metal scratching and elemental energy coiling through the air before blasting forward – fire, ice, and lightning blending together.  They were all veteran raiders, and they’d been forced to learn fast out here in this shithole.  The rule of the jungle was blast first and ask questions never.

The figure twisted around those missiles, moving so fast it was difficult to follow.  Whatever it was kicked off a nearby branch, the wood splintering and the limb tumbling downward.  Yet, it wasn’t nearly fast enough to keep up with whatever was blazing down toward their group.  The elemental energy crashed past the creature, smashing against the trees and scattering until it filled the branches with a rainbow of colors.

The creature crashed down into the center of the cluster of travelers, sending up a puff of dirt and debris that obscured their vision.  Amy had just barely pulled her sword free and channeled air mana with her left hand as a dark blur sped through their ranks, moving almost too fast to follow.  Energy crackled along her skin, and her senses sharpened.  It was only that spell that allowed her to see what was happening as her teammates let out shouts of alarm.

Something humanoid was moving among them – twisting, dodging, and spinning in a blaze of perfectly precise movements.  Swords missed him.  A ball of flame passed harmlessly through the air, setting another player ablaze.  And yet… he wasn’t killing anyone.  Amy could only gape, her brow furrowed as she watched this creature tap each player, leaving a single blue streak in his wake before moving to the next target.

Then he vanished.

Only to appear behind her, the sound of his breathing just barely giving him away.

Amy tried to twist.  To get a look.

“Nice try, but too late,” he growled softly.

She felt a hand land on her shoulder—

Then the creature – a human man – if that was somehow possible – simply disappeared.  The raid members all stumbled through the tree trunks, the cloud of dirt and dust gradually dissipating and revealing that they were all… perfectly fine.  Every member was still alive, still breathing sharply into the sudden silence, all eyes on the jungle around them.  Waiting, watching.

“What the fuck?” their raid leader muttered.

For her part, Amy glanced at her shoulder to see a familiar blue streak along her armor.  It wasn’t acid – at least it didn’t seem to be eating through the thick leather.  She touched it hesitantly, and it didn’t burn her skin.  As she lifted her fingers to her nose, she could make out a sweet smell despite the way the game world muted that sense.  It reminded her of honey.

A sudden buzz interrupted her thoughts, and Amy’s eyes shot up once more, only to widen in shock.  A monstrous cloud of insects was descending from above.  To the other members of the raid, it must have appeared to be a swarm of indistinct shapes in the gloom of the jungle.  But to Amy – her senses still enhanced – she could see them for what they were.

“Oh… oh shit,” Amy whispered.

Then the cloud of hornets descended upon the raid.  They were each about the size of Amy’s palm, moving so rapidly their movements were difficult to see even with her enhanced sight.  The insects immediately swarmed the players, stabbing forward with two-inch-long stingers.  Some of those needles were blunted against metal and leather, but there were simply too many of them.  Their attacks pierced through cracks in the travelers’ armor as screams filled the air, and the raid began to drop to the ground, twitching and convulsing.

Amy moved, dodged a few of the insects, and raced through the trees, trying to flee with her enhanced speed.  She wasn’t as good as Sean – not nearly on his level.  But she was still fast, and the bugs should have trouble following once they lost the momentum from their rapid descent through the trees.  But her eyes widened again as she heard a buzz behind her, looking back to find more following – tracking her.

“How…?” Then it hit her.  The blue shit must be marking them.

That realization settled in her mind as her head swiveled forward again.  A swarm was coming at her from the front, a stinger slicing through the air only inches away from her throat.  Even with her speed, she knew she couldn’t dodge in time.  She could only experience with excruciating slowness the hornet inching toward her – could feel the stinger beginning to pierce the skin of her neck, ever-so-slowly, plunging through muscle, arteries… into her esophagus.

She could feel herself tumbling to the ground as a fiery pain bloomed in her neck, more of those fucking insects buzzing above her.  She only dully registered her shoulder slamming into the ground.  The lightning still crackling along her skin fried the insect that had stabbed her – but it was far too late for that to do any good.

Amy lay on her side, struggling feebly to suck in air as her throat began to swell.  Player icons turned gray in her peripheral vision.  And as she lay there dying in slow motion, she saw a dark form step out from between the tree trunks.  His chest was uncovered, his dark skin stained almost a dark green and crisscrossed with layers of scars.  Strangely, his clothing seemed to be slowly knitting itself back together – but she assumed she must be hallucinating.

The man dropped a rag to the ground, the cloth covered in a sickly blue ichor.  He paced toward her, unperturbed by the hornets clinging to his skin.  He seemed completely unaffected by their presence, stooping down in front of Amy and staring at her through an ivory mask, a grim smile painted across its surface.

And she knew fear.  This had to be Dom.  This… this wasn’t a man.  Wasn’t a fucking player.  This was a killing machine.  Death incarnate.  She could see it in the way his muscle rippled, the way he walked with an eerie grace.  She knew she was irrevocably fucked.

She struggled to say something but her throat wouldn’t respond.

“Don’t bother,” Dom said calmly.  “Your throat is seizing up.”

He looked off at the others, letting out a sigh.  “I expected you lot to last longer, but I guess only one of you was worth anything.”  His gaze shot back down to her, cocking his head.

He was… complimenting her on dying slowly?

“If you ever get tired of these assholes, come find me,” Dom offered.

Another heavy sigh escaped his lips.  “But for now, I need you to give Booker a message when you respawn.  Can you do that for me?  Just nod if you understand.”

Amy only managed a small tilt of her head – her muscles barely responding now.

“Good.  Let him know I’m fucking coming for him.  I’m going to burn down everything he’s built with my own hands.”

She could only see his eyes through the mask, but they told Amy everything she needed to know.  There wasn’t an ounce of doubt there.  Not a trace of fear.  This man – this beast – he knew he could deliver on his threat with every fiber of his being.  And as the world began to swim around Amy, the light disappearing into motes of darkness, she realized something.

She didn’t doubt it either.

***

The woman on the ground before him let out one more wheezing gasp and then collapsed, her chest unmoving.  The jungle was still now, only the buzzing hum of the hornets drifting through the trees.  Already, the insects were beginning to collect their honey, wiping it across their torsos before launching back up into the trees to return to their nest.

Dom let out a sigh.  That hadn’t been nearly as entertaining as he’d hoped.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Improvisation

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 9

Effect:  18% Damage Bonus with Random Weapon.

He let out a grunt, swiping aside that notice.  So, the game was treating the insects as a “weapon?”  That was interesting.  But, still, it felt like cheating.

The seeker hornets – as he called them – had a pretty dangerous venom, one he’d helped use to train Poison Resistance.  Interestingly, he’d also discovered that they relentlessly chased anyone that stole their honey.  That had been incredibly handy for his training since he could just slather it on himself.  But it could also be weaponized.

In this case, Dom had wanted to test that theory.  Attracting the hornets had bumped up his luck multiplier considerably – as they could still penetrate his skin in sensitive areas, and he wasn’t entirely immune to their venom, especially in large doses.  But he was fast enough now to stay ahead of the swarm.  That, combined with the number of players, had kept his luck multiplier high through that whole battle.  Plus, since the players hadn’t died rapidly, it hadn’t had a chance to drop.  And between his luck and native Dodge skill, he was hard as hell to hit.

“At least my experiment was a success,” he muttered, pushing himself back upright.

Wingman let out a distracted cluck nearby, her face burrowed in a player’s chest.  Dom looked away from that – even if he wasn’t going to deny her a meal.  “Damn, that’s gross,” he muttered, the bird unaffected by his judgment as she happily moved on to the next player, her feathers now stained red.  “At least remember to collect their coins, okay?”

He received an affirmative cluck in response.

Dom shook his head, his eyes drifting to the nearby cliffside.

The question was what to do next.

He could try to free the goblins trapped inside this dungeon, but that looked like it was going to take some time – a day or two at least, given the size of the pile of rubble.  And if this group was any indication, the other plumes he’d seen from the treetops must have been attacks on other villages.  Yet <The Jackals> weren’t focused on killing the greenskins – just incapacitating them.  Likely to prevent them from migrating to Boomtown and reinforcing its defenses.

Dom could go check on the other locations and take out the remaining raid teams before they returned to Aislen.  But that was pointless.  They’d just respawn, and they offered little experience.  His eyes skimmed down to the woman on the ground before him, noting that her gear was roughshod and well-worn, her sword chipped and rusted.  Booker had also given them shit gear – probably anticipating they’d die or have their equipment stripped.

It seemed Booker was no longer taking Dom lightly.

He let out another sigh as the answer settled in his mind with a heavy finality.  The goblins would have to wait for now.  Many would likely die from dehydration or starvation until he had a chance to free them, a truly miserable and protracted way to go.  But at the same time, Dom sure as hell couldn’t help them if Booker managed to destabilize Boomtown.  He grimaced at the familiarity of that reasoning – allowing your allies to suffer in order to help them.

It seemed the Gambler’s logic was rubbing off on him.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

A cluck came from his waist, Wingman peering up at him questioningly.  She must have finished up her afternoon snack, and a pile of bloody coins lay beside her.  Although, the chicken was already side-eyeing the woman on the ground nearby.  Her stomach growled, and she took a single step forward.

“Leave her.  C’mon, Wingman,” he called out, pivoting on his heel.

The bird gave him a questioning cluck.

“We’re going home.  There’ll be food there,” Dom explained.  Then he shot forward in a blaze of movement, leaping up into a nearby branch and skimming from tree to tree – Wingman reluctantly following behind him with one last morose look at the corpse.

As he ran, Dom thoughts were racing.

It looked like Booker had stepped things up on his side.

But that just meant the game had gotten more interesting.

***

“Achoo,” the Gambler sneezed into his sleeve.

Oscar peered at him, letting out a questioning squeak.

The god glared at the rat.  “No, I’m not getting a cold, and I’m not overworking myself.  I’m a goddamn deity,” he grumbled as he eyed the casino around him – the place filled with goblins, raucous, drunken shouts, and the clamor of the slots.

Another squeak followed – this one somehow conveying dry sarcasm.

The god snorted.  “And yeah, I know that’s redundant.  You may be the only rat in existence who was born with a grammar book up your ass, you know that right?”

Oscar just shook his head and let out a sigh.

The Gambler groused under his breath as his eyes flashed a brilliant amber, staring off into space as if he were viewing another world.  Meanwhile, the phantom image of a golden rose appeared behind him, ethereal numbers and odds tumbling and shifting in an instant as the rose gradually began to bloom outward.  Oscar could only look on with a nervous expression as a grim, pleased smile slid across the god’s face.

“Ahh, it’s such a pleasure to see them grow up,” the Gambler murmured to himself.

Then, in a flash, the light disappeared from his eyes, and the god pivoted back to the rat.

“Speaking of which, I see someone vomited in section 4… again,” the Gambler added, plopping down a tiny bucket and mop, his smile only widening further.

Oscar let out a single low squeak, his shoulders slumping.  Then he snatched the bucket and mop with his tail before trudging back into the depths of the casino, only narrowly avoiding being stomped to death by a legion of goblins.

Chapter 40 - Agenda

Booker and Nova stood in the room they were using as their “command center.”  They had appropriated a building on the north side of the city after the destruction of their former guildhall.  The locals hadn’t been happy about that, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot they could do about it now.  Much had changed in the wake of that attack, including Booker’s decision to take full control of Aislen.  That had been a hit to morale but a necessary one.

Now his eyes skimmed the map on the table, clusters of green dots denoting his forces and spirals of smoke coiling away from the cigarette that hung limply on his lips.

“Sir?” someone spoke up from behind Booker.

He turned to see a woman standing there, her face haggard and pale and her roughshod armor ripped and torn.  She kept massaging at her neck, clearly resisting the gesture as best she could.  “Death trauma,” Booker called it.  A sure sign that she’d just died.

He shot a questioning look at Nova, the woman tapping a hand to her ear and a trace of amber energy coiling between her fingers.  “Her name is Amy.  She was on one of the demolition teams.  It seems she was the only member of her unit that actually saw Dom.”

“And the rest?” Booker asked, already knowing the answer.

“Dead, sir,” Amy grunted, forcing her hand away from her neck and holding it at her side.

“Show me,” Booker ordered.

He’d ordered his players to keep their cameras running in-mission now.  Most of them hadn’t upgraded to the media package, but even a first-person perspective was better than nothing.  It avoided the need for word-of-mouth – which could be inaccurate.  What he needed right now was genuine intel on their opponent – not travelers downplaying Dom’s abilities to salvage their egos or make him out to be some unstoppable boogie man.

Amy nodded and waved at the air, a screen popping into existence.  It soon began showing a first-person perspective of the detonation and subsequent “attack.”  Although, as Booker watched silently, he decided “massacre” might have been more accurate.  As far as he could tell, the squad hadn’t even managed to hit Dom, much less hurt him.

How the hell is he that strong? he wondered, stomping out his cigarette on the floor.

Those taunting words at the end were also telling, Booker’s knuckles cracking as his fingers balled into a fist.  He pulled another cigarette free of its case and lit it slowly, giving himself a moment to master his expression.

When his eyes raised to Amy’s face again, they were calm.  “I take it you aren’t seriously entertaining Dom’s offer?”  It wasn’t really a question.

“Uh… of course not… sir,” Amy stumbled.

Shit, Booker thought to himself.  That was a “maybe” if he ever heard one.

Not that he blamed her.  It’s not like their guild members had stood a chance.

“Good,” he said.  Then he side-eyed Nova.  “Ensure that Amy here is rewarded appropriately.  Some new armor and weapons would be a good start.  A promotion to unit leader is also in order, especially after managing to stay alive that long.”

“It will be done,” Nova answered simply, aware of the eyes in the room.  Although, the knowing expression that flitted across her face conveyed that she understood what Booker was doing.  It seemed Dom had also figured out their situation and was waging a war on morale now.

“Th-thank you, sir,” Amy answered, bowing her head slightly.  Then she took her cue to beat a hasty retreat, which left Booker and Nova still standing there, sharing a troubled look.

Sean chose that moment to stride into the room, passing Amy on his way, the raid leader barely sparing her a glance as he made a beeline toward Booker and Nova.  He promptly slumped into one of the chairs around the table, kicking his feet up on the wood.  “I take it the sabotage teams were successful?”

“Mostly,” Booker answered, his expression still dour.  He took a long drag on his cigarette.  That dull burn in his chest always quieted his nerves – a reminder of why he was doing this.

Sean just shook his head.  “You look worried.  But there’s no reason to be.  However strong this Dom guy is, he’s still just one man.”

“Are you certain about that?” Nova asked, arching an eyebrow.  “Our scouts have reported travelers making their way to Boomtown – it’s what they’re calling the growing goblin city,” she amended at Sean’s amused expression.

It had been a simple matter to scout the city – both because the guild was already familiar with the dungeon and Dom had gone public with its coordinates in-game.  A few air mages were all they needed.  It didn’t matter that nearly 70% never made it to the destination.  It was good practice for their casters.

“And the forums are full of videos of the camp along the northern edge of the jungle.  Even after Dom’s recruitment window expired, players are still attempting to make it to Boomtown,” Nova continued, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.

Sean snorted.  “I saw those videos.  Most don’t last even a few minutes.  At least that calmed down all of the haters and ‘get good’ comments online when we complain about what a clusterfuck this area is,” he grumbled with a trace of bitterness.

The raid leader waved a dismissive hand.  “Besides, even with a handful of travelers, what’s Dom going to do anyway?”

“It seems you don’t fully appreciate the situation—” Booker began, cutting himself off as another man stepped tentatively into the room, his demeanor much more reserved than Sean’s.

“Ahh, good of you to join us, Gary,” Booker said with a nod.

The man adjusted his glasses nervously.  “N-no problem,” he offered.  In the wake of Dom’s attack, Booker had realized he needed to take their “wrenches” more seriously.  Despite his reserved appearance, Gary was their most proficient crafter – an engineer back in the real world, apparently.  So, Booker had tasked him with overseeing the other wrenches, as well as the local craftsman that had been enticed to join their ranks.

Sean just let out a sigh, shaking his head as Gary took a seat.

Nova glared at him, her message clear.  Behave, asshole.

The raid leader just shot her a wink in return.

“Anyway, as I was saying, you don’t seem to grasp our predicament here,” Booker continued, observing Sean calmly as he paced around the table, smoke trailing behind him.

“What’s to get?  Dom and his little green idiots plan to destroy Aislen.  We want to smash them first.  Pretty damn simple if you ask me.”

Gary coughed into his fist.

“What, you got something to say, four-eyes?” Sean demanded.

The leader of the wrenches hesitated, glancing at Booker, who waved him on.

“Dom doesn’t wish to destroy Aislen,” Gary amended.  “He wants to destroy our g-guild.  We’re also in a suboptimal position t-tactically.  Both sides are situated on a respawn point.”  As the wrench spoke, Booker waved at the table, and a three-dimensional map of Aislen and the surrounding territory they had explored appeared there.  The respawn courtyard and Boomtown were suddenly highlighted with red dots.

Gary nodded as he observed the map, his expression calming.  “That means that a frontal attack is almost entirely futile – especially with the accelerated respawn rates.  Casualties can return to battle in anywhere from 10-20 minutes.  This includes both the travelers and goblins, but not the residents, who die permanently.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sean grunted back, although his expression was now more appraising.

“And we suspect that Dom isn’t interested in killing the residents,” Nova added.  “Our air mage scouts can pick up quite a bit of the chatter in the goblin village.  It seems the goblins have been given marching orders to only target the guild.”

“Then why bother reinforcing Aislen?” Sean asked.

Indeed, <The Jackals> had invested quite a few resources in bolstering the city’s defenses with Gary and the wrenches’ help.  They’d also been forced to devote much of their manpower to harvesting materials from the nearby islands – primarily wood and ores from the tunnels carved into the rock.  Much of those resources had gone to re-outfitting their troops.

Booker shook his head.  “Because we still need to be concerned about Dom’s forces infiltrating the city.  While killing our troops is pointless, the damage he dealt to our infrastructure was real.  Even a week later, we haven’t fully recovered from the loss of our guild hall.  He also forced us to abandon the highway project almost entirely,” he added with a grimace.  The jungle would likely soon reclaim all of that hard-fought territory if they couldn’t resolve this conflict quickly.  Putting aside a few… other reasons that was troubling for Booker.

Gary and Nova were nodding along with that explanation, a frown hovering on Sean’s lips.  The raid leader had difficulty with any higher-ordered thinking that didn’t involve cutting his opponent into thin ribbons.  But that still had a use and was why Booker had delegated roles.

“Okay, sure.  I guess I see the point,” Sean admitted.  “So, where does that leave us then?”

“We have to fight Dom the same way he attacked us and lean into our advantage – which is that we’re highly organized and have more manpower,” Booker explained.  He waved at the map, several more red dots appearing, denoting the goblin dungeons they’d sabotaged.  “So, while we’re fortifying Aislen and gathering materials, we can also strike at Dom’s infrastructure.  That was the idea behind this first wave of attacks.  It reduces Dom’s population growth since he can’t rely on travelers like we can – as we know, his recruits are merely a trickle,” he acknowledged with a wave at Nova.

“This also puts Dom in a precarious tactical position,” Nova explained.  “If he sends forces to free the goblins, this overextends his meager troops – which are already incredibly disorganized.  Goblins are hardy and dangerous, but they don’t follow directions well.  That gives us an opportunity to strike at him, much the same way that Dom lured out your raid originally.”

“You fell for that as well,” Sean grumbled.

“We all did,” Nova amended.  “But we can only avoid repeating the same mistakes.”

“And if he hunkers down in Boomtown, we’ve limited his growth,” Gary added.

Booker nodded.  “So, we win either way.”

Sean glared at the map.  “Fine.  This is all well and good.  But this shit isn’t going to win a war.  You’re just shuffling the pieces around the board.”

Booker smiled at that.  It seemed Sean had caught up.  “Exactly.  But arranging the board is important as we prepare to launch our primary assault.  Speaking of which, how have your preparations been going, Sean?” he asked.

The raid leader cocked his head.  “Our forces should be ready to go in a week or so.  Only about half have been equipped as you ordered,” Sean added with a glance at Gary.  “In the meantime, the raids have been formed and unit leaders assigned.”

“My mages have also been practicing the spellcasting sequences you requested,” Nova added.  She grimaced.  “They’re improving, but not as quickly as I’d like.”

“I still don’t see the plan here – especially with what you just explained,” Sean grumbled, staring at the map.  “How is attacking Boomtown going to help us?”

Booker took another long drag on his cigarette, letting Sean mull on his own question for a moment.  “The truth is that I’ve kept everyone in the dark on purpose,” Booker answered – noticing Nova and Gary nodding.  “Leaks are a major concern now.  Dom can go online just as easily as we can.  So, I’ve been hiding our true plan.  Just like military forces back in the real world, we need to centralize our command and intelligence structure.”

Sean let out a huff.  “All this military jargon… just say what you mean already.”

“Alright,” Sean agreed.  “I have a plan.  Each of you knows parts of it.  And it needs to stay that way – at least until we execute on it.  You’re going to have to trust me.  In the meantime, we need to focus on maintaining morale among our troops.”

The rest of his officers went quiet at that.  That was a tall ask, and Booker knew it.

“Or look at it this way,” Booker continued.  “I haven’t steered you wrong before, and I don’t plan to start now.  The lecture I give the firstbloods isn’t just bullshit.”

He stamped out his cigarette, watching the smoke coil away from the butt.

“This place is a shithole, sure, but the same could be said of our world,” Booker grunted, staring down at the embers of his cigarette as they faded, a grim expression painted across his face.  “Which means the same lessons translate.”

His eyes rose to meet his officers’.  “So, we’ll have to fight like it’s real.”

Chapter 41 - Teambuilding

“Hey, you’re back early,” Adrian commented, swiping away his screens.  The bard was lounging near the mouth of the goblin cavern, perched atop a few barrels.

Dom grimaced.  “Long story, but I’ll give you the short version.  Booker is getting more aggressive.  He bombed the other goblin camps, trapping the rest of the goblins in their dungeons.”

“Well, then we should go—” Adrian began, rising to his feet.

Dom just held up a hand.  “No.  We need to train.  I expect this is just their first step, and we don’t have much time before <The Jackals> get serious.”

The bard frowned, displeased.  No doubt, he was thinking about the goblins that had been trapped.  “In that case, I think our recruits are ready to get started.  They’ve all obtained Deathwish,” he offered, although his expression said that Dom hadn’t gotten out of this conversation, only delayed it.

That was fast, Dom thought to himself.  A good sign.

“Perfect,” was all Dom said, stepping past Adrian and approaching the heavy wooden gates that blocked the entrance to the arena.  He stooped, grabbed the bottom beam with one hand, and lifted.  The muscles in his arm and legs strained as he heaved the gate up.  The gate slammed back into the ceiling, lodging there, and sending down a shower of dust.

Adrian just looked on with wide eyes, glancing at Wingman.

The bird let out a worried cluck.  Or, she might have just been hungry.  But with the way she was ignoring her usual entourage carrying treats… well, Adrian was betting on worried.

“Man, I almost feel sorry for these guys,” he muttered to himself as he followed Dom into the arena proper.  It seemed the “Boss” was in a bad mood.

Dom slowed as he caught sight of a scene of destruction.  Blood splattered the walls, the floor – hell, even parts of the ceiling.  It was so thick that it had formed ruddy rivers that flowed down into the adjacent tunnels.  No doubt, the miners were curious why blood was raining down on their heads in the lower shafts.

But the reason for all of that destruction was obvious.  Four individuals stood in the center of the arena, surrounded by piles of green corpses.  Their armor was broken and ravaged, covered in blood – their own and their enemies’.  Their eyes wild.  Their chests heaving.  Even as Dom looked on, multi-colored tears opened in the air beside him as the goblins respawned.

They moved to charge the players again, but Dom let out a Challenging Shout, the sound echoing across the cavern.  Every person and goblin in that room froze.  Spells hung in the air.  Weapons paused mid-swing.  All eyes turned to the front of the chamber.

“Enough,” Dom said calmly.  He turned to the goblins.  “You lot are dismissed.  Go train with the others outside.  Or help in the mines.”

The greenskins didn’t question his orders.  They simply shrugged, dropped their weapons, and marched off – some drifting down into the lower tunnels while others chose to return outside.  The recruits eyed them in surprise, not a single one of them lowering their weapons or canceling their spells.

“You can relax,” Dom urged the players, the recruits only grudgingly complying, still eyeing the retreating goblins.  “I heard you all obtained Deathwish,” he offered.

“Eventually,” Vanessa half growled.  “Was that really fucking necessary?”

Dom just raised an eyebrow.  “Yes.  You’ll need it to start your training.”

They all just stared back now – dumbfounded.

“Uh, what?” Lauren said.  “Then what the hell was all that then?”

Adrian barked out a laugh.  “The warmup.  Dom’s version of stretching.”

They were looking angry now.  Fragments of ice were crystallizing around Vanessa, and lightning arced across Lauren’s skin.  Even Willow looked upset – despite the obvious fatigue that drooped her shoulders.  However, she kept her composure, likely a product of discipline and experience.  The only member of their group that didn’t look upset was Walt.  The earth mage had just slumped to the ground, holding his head in his hands, and letting out a soft groan.

“I don’t think we need any more training,” Vanessa ground out through gritted teeth.  She looked to Willow and Lauren.  “We made it here.  We passed this-this death gauntlet.  And we were doing just fucking fine before we came here.  Hell, any one of us is stronger than most of the players out there – including the members of this backwater guild.”

“She does have a point,” Willow murmured, leaning on her staff, and rubbing at her eyes.

Dom didn’t react, just looked to Lauren.  “You feel the same way?”

The girl nodded

“What about you, Walt?”  Another groan was his only response.

Dom shook his head.  “Don’t need training,” he murmured to himself.  His eyes rose to meet Vanessa’s.  “So then, why did you all fail to kill me?  That was what?  More than a dozen players against a single man?”

Vanessa grimaced.  “We’ve leveled and gained stats since then.  How about a rematch?”

Adrian laughed louder that time.  “That’s cute.”  He looked to Wingman.  “They say they gained stats.  You hear that?”

Even the chicken was shaking her head – a point that didn’t help Vanessa’s anger.

For his part, Dom wasn’t amused.  “If you really feel confident that you can kill me, by all means, try,” he offered, spreading his arms wide.

A tense silence hovered in the cave, Vanessa eyeing him.  Yet no one moved.

“Didn’t think so,” Dom continued.  “And to answer your question, yes.  You all need training badly.  You’re all using your abilities like shit.  I can fix that.”

Another stunned silence met those words.  Yet this time, Dom noticed that Willow and Lauren’s expressions were more curious.  And even Walt had finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

“You think you can improve on my abilities?” Vanessa demanded, her hands balled into fists.  “After what?  One match?  I’ve been cultivating these skills for weeks now.  I’ve trained at a gods damned mage academy that pitted its students against each other in deathmatches.  I’ve fought the Avatar-of-Fucking-Flame himself.”

“How’d that go?” Dom asked simply.

“Oh, you ass—” Vanesa growled, stepping forward and ice appearing beside her.

In a flash, Dom moved forward, knocking the shards from the air with a sweep of his arm, grabbing Vanessa, pivoting, and slamming her into the ground so hard he heard ribs crack.  Then he stepped away, folding his arms as he waited for her health regeneration to kick in.  When she eventually sat back up, she was still glaring but looked more cautious.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Dom asked.  “I thought you were well trained.”

A moment of silence passed.  “You’re too fast,” she muttered.  “And strong.”

Dom shook his head.  “Wrong.  You can take me.  Easy.  You want me to tell you how to improve, or you want to sit here posturing some more?”

Vanessa grumbled something.

“What was that?”

“Tell me,” she ground out.  That was the best he was going to get.

“Fine.  You’re right. I’ve only fought you once.  But I was paying attention.  Your clones, they’re composed of ice and water, right?  They certainly had mass when I struck them.”  She nodded.  “Then why don’t you weaponize them?”

Vanessa just cocked her head, her anger fading in the face of his question.

“You attack with ice – you were about to do that just now.  So, why can’t your clones attack?  Why can’t they explode when I get close?  Why can’t they grapple me and freeze me to the ground?”

He could see her mind racing now.

“And as for your weakness.  Aside from your pride,” he said with a pointed look, “you have no defense or physical stats.  You’ve leaned on your illusions from day one, so you never needed to deal with getting hit.  But what happens when you face someone like me that’s fast – or Lauren here.  Or someone with AOE like Willow.  She could just bomb you and your clones out of existence.  What do you do then?”

“I… I don’t know,” Vanessa finally managed.

“You build armor,” Dom said simply.  “It’s just more ice.  And you can weaponize that too.  Hell, if you leveled your Dexterity, Strength, and Endurance, you might even be able to use that ice to increase your mobility.  Avoid getting hit in the first place.”

Vanessa was now staring at the ground, her brow furrowed.  Clearly, his point had landed.

Dom turned his gaze to the others.  “I’ve reviewed all of your Character Statuses and skill lists.  You can all improve.”

“Fine, then do me,” Lauren demanded, standing there.  In contrast to Vanessa, excitement was shining in her eyes.  A challenge.

Dom looked the girl up and down.  “You’re fast and accurate.  Your mobility also makes you hard to pin down.  But your native stats are weak to compensate for your mana burn.  We can work on that.  Your larger problem, however, is that you lack power.  It’s why you couldn’t hurt me easily.  At best you could run away, but that’s not a solution.”

“So, I just need a bigger gun?” she demanded dryly.  “Thanks.”

Dom tilted his head.  “Well, yes.  That would help.  And I have a few ideas there.  But that’s not actually what I was thinking.  But let’s pose it as a question.  How are you able to reposition, aim, and fire so quickly?”

Lauren’s brow furrowed.  “It’s a skill called Lightning Aura.  It enhances my physical senses, effectively channeling electricity through my body.”

Dom nodded.  “Sure, I’ve seen it in action a few times now.”  Sean and that lightning mage he’d just taken down, for example.  “Try something for me.  Instead of casting that spell on yourself, try casting it on your bullet.”

Lauren’s eyes widened slightly, and she looked down at her gun.  “I don’t know if—"

“Then try, damn it.  C’mon.  Shoot me!” Dom demanded.

The girl took a deep breath, shaking her head.  Then she raised her pistol to Dom’s chest, her forehead pinched in focus as she tried to channel her spell along a much smaller target.  Lightning suddenly crackled down the length of the barrel, and Lauren sucked in a breath of surprise, her eyes going distant briefly – likely reviewing a new notification.

“Fire!” Dom roared.

She pulled the trigger before she even realized what she was doing.

That bullet slammed into Dom’s chest, cutting through his suit, his skin, and then embedding itself deep in his chest.  At the same time, lightning arced along his skin, his muscles contracting and spasming.  Moments later, the effect wore off, and he pinched his fingers into the wound, letting out a grunt of pain as he pulled the bullet free, dropping it to the ground.  That had hurt like hell, and he’d had to deactivate his missile shields, but it had proved his point.

He looked up to find Lauren staring at him with her mouth open.

“You’ll need to practice.  We’ll be putting all your stat points from here on out into Intelligence to up your mana and damage.  Then we’ll bolster your physical stats with training.  You’ll need to learn to channel that spell into both your gun and your body or learn to alternate on the fly.  I suspect you may even be able to arc or control your bullets eventually.”

Dom grinned.  “But then, yes… we’ll also eventually get you a bigger gun.”

Lauren was smiling at her pistols now.  She didn’t wait for the others, teleporting across the arena, trying to alternate the channel on Lightning Aura, firing off electrified shots at the walls.

Dom glanced to Willow.  “Oh, c’mon already,” she offered with a smile of her own.  “This old lady has far too many years behind her to turn down help when it’s offered.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dom replied.  “Because your training is going to be rough.  You allocated your stats properly to avoid waste.  And you have a ton of raw power with your Overcharge ability – which is how you empowered that Fireball.  The problem is that this has left you physically weak.”  Willow nodded reluctantly.  “Which is why you’re scared of using your spells.  You’re afraid of hurting yourself.”

She frowned at that.  “Look back at the battle with me as an example,” Dom continued.  “You had to wait for others to set up the spell, and even then, you made sure to use it at what I can only assume is your max control range, right?” Willow nodded again.

“But how do I fix that?” she asked.

Dom grunted.  “You learn to weather your own flames.  If you do, I expect you’ll gain Fire Resistance and start training your Vitality.  Between the damage resistance and the increase to your health regeneration, you should be able to start taking the chip damage from your own attacks.”  Dom raised a hand to ward off her objections.  “Unlike the others, you don’t need any other stats.  You don’t need to dodge or block.  Your power becomes both your offense and defense.  You make the flames so intense that no one can stand to get near you.”

“That’s going to be… painful, if it’s even possible,” Willow muttered.

Dom chuckled.  “It’s possible.  I know that from firsthand experience.  But you’re right.  It hurts like a bitch.  The question is, are you strong enough to handle it?”

Willow stared at the ground for a moment, but when she raised her eyes back to his, Dom saw determination reflected there.  She’d lived a long life – one where she’d inevitably encountered pain.  So, what was a little more?  Especially if she could use that pain to burn some noobs to ash.

“This is all well and good,” Walt muttered from the ground.  “But you can’t fix me.  I’m invested entirely in crowd control.  I can’t kill shit.”

Lauren flashed back to the group, hovering beside Walt, and placing a hand on his shoulder.  “I mean, he’s not wrong,” she offered, her tone not unkind.

“I probably shouldn’t even be here…” Walt muttered under his breath.

The others stood there silently, no one disagreeing with him.

Dom just let out a laugh.  “Are you kidding?”

Walt’s eyes darted upward.

“Seriously, are you fucking messing with me?  You’re probably the scariest motherfucker in this room right now,” Dom continued in an incredulous voice.

“What?” Walt asked, dumbfounded.

Dom sighed.  It seemed he was going to have to show him too.

“Fine.  Grab Lauren and Phase into the floor.  Do it now!” Dom demanded before he could hesitate or question himself.

After his grueling ordeal with the goblins, Walt just reacted, grabbing Lauren’s hand and his body shifting.  He immediately sunk into the ground, bringing Lauren with him.  Her cry of alarm abruptly cut off as they plunged beneath the dirt and rock.  Looking at his map, Dom could see they kept falling – well out of range of Lauren’s Teleport.

Then Dom casually brought up his chat window and typed out a short message to Walt.

Seconds ticked past…  Then a full minute.  Then longer.

The others were looking worried now – the concern mixed with curiosity.

“What exactly are we waiting for here?” Willow asked.

It was Vanessa that answered this time.  “For Lauren to die.”

Dom just clapped slowly.  She got the gold star.

Moments later, Walt emerged from the ground, heaving over and gasping for air, his body trembling and shaking uncontrollably.  During the duel, Dom had observed that the Phase ability cost him.  It must hurt like hell and he couldn’t breathe underground.

But more importantly, Walt was alone.

Willow was staring at the ground now in horror.  “Wait, he left her down—”

A flash of multi-colored energy ripped open across the cave as Lauren respawned.  “You fucking asshole!” she screamed.  In an instant, her body was wreathed in lightning, and she was teleporting across the room.

But Dom was ready, moving in a blur and catching her gun as she reappeared, pivoting it down into the floor, the bullet lodging in the stone.  He snatched her wrist, ignoring the lightning that seared his skin.  “Calm down,” Dom said, staring into her eyes.  “You don’t want people to treat you like a kid?  Then don’t act like one.”

She glared back but then swallowed hard, mastering her emotions.

“I know that death was rough,” Dom said more gently, easing his grip.  “Drowning is probably the worst, and I’m betting that was pretty damn close to the same experience.  But that isn’t going to be the first or last time you die like that.”  He eyed the others in turn.  “That was the point of obtaining Deathwish.  That doubt and fear will get you killed.  It will make you hesitate.  And when you do die – and you will – you all need to learn to come back ready to fucking fight.  There can’t be a moment of delay.  A moment of doubt.”

The others were nodding now – the point finally landing.

“Now then,” Dom continued, turning back to Walt.  The earth mage was staring at his hands in shock.  “You see what you did there?”

“Y-yeah,” he stumbled, shaking his head.

“Like I said, you are probably the scariest person in this room.  A single touch and you can kill pretty much anyone.  Your Gravity Well also allows you to incapacitate a target to close into melee range – assuming you boost your Strength, Dexterity, and Endurance to endure the effect or Phase through the floor.  Of course, the pain is also a problem, as is your body’s need for oxygen.

“But training can help with both of those issues.  We’re going to work on expanding your lung capacity substantially.  Adrian can help with that,” he offered at the bard, who just nodded – although Dom saw a trace of concern in his expression.  He might be going just a touch further than even their original training here.

Dom paused, watching the recruits.  They were all standing there in stunned silence now, alternating between looking at Dom and reviewing their own skills.  But in each of their eyes, he saw despair and anger replaced with something much, much more powerful.  Excitement.

“Any more questions, or do you all finally see my point?” Dom asked then.

They all nodded.

“Good.  Then we’re going to train like mad,” Dom explained.  “I expect we only have a week at most until Booker makes a move.  More time would have been better, but oh-fucking-well.  I’m pushing your training circuits to each of you now,” he said, tapping at his UI.  “I’ve personalized them.  We use this room.  Train until you run out of mana, stamina, or health, then kill yourself and reset.  You’ll be alternating partners and occasionally switch out with me so that I can train as well.  We’re all in a group now, and I’ve set up announcements to remind you.

“The only breaks are for real-world food and naps,” Dom continued.  “We clear?”

They all nodded again, although he noticed a few swallowing hard.

“Like you even need any training,” Lauren muttered, eyeing Dom and rubbing at her wrist where he’d grabbed her.  His suit had already repaired from where she’d shot him, stitching itself back together.  She also apparently hadn’t missed how he’d anticipated her Teleport.

Dom just snorts.  “Are you kidding?  I’m probably the weakest link right now.”

And suddenly, they were all staring at him incredulously.

“Uh, what?  How is that even possible?”  Walt muttered.

“Figure it out for yourselves,” Dom challenged them.  “I’m not going to hold your hands forever.  Learn to assess a situation and your opponent quickly.  It’ll keep you alive longer.”

Now they were looking curious, rising to the challenge.

They’d picked a good group.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dom said, trailing off.  He suddenly threw each of them a coin, each of the recruits snatching them from the air and looking at the chips curiously.  Luckily, he still had a nice little surplus after taking out that group of <The Jackals>.

“What is this?” Vanessa asked.

“It almost looks like a casino chip,” Willow offered.

Dom just pointed to her.  “Indeed.  It grants you passage to the casino on death.  Don’t lose that coin.  Each time you die, you’ll respawn there.  We’ve set up another training area in one of the old sections of the floor,” he explained, nodding at Adrian.  The bard had helped there.  He’d also gathered most of the supplies they needed, goblins carrying them inside the arena and stacking them nearby as they spoke.

Dom looked back to the group.  “Same rules apply in the casino.  You train until the respawn timer kicks in.  Then come back here and train some more.”

“Wait, are you implying you found a way to train in the deathscape?” Lauren offered.

“I’ve found a way to replace it entirely,” Dom answered simply.

“So, this was another reason you had us obtain Deathwish,” Vanessa spoke up, shaking her head.  The others looked at her in confusion.  “He’s accelerating our training speed by reducing our respawn – between the instance for this dungeon and Deathwish,” she explained for their benefit.  “That way, we don’t have to wait for our regeneration.  Then he’s increasing it even further by removing the deathscape entirely,” she explained.  There was respect shining in her eyes as she looked at Dom now.

Dom just smiled.  “Exactly.  Now, enough chitchat.  The clock is already running.  Let’s get to work!”

They hesitated for only a moment and then started moving, drifting off to different sections of the arena to begin their training – occasional crackles of electricity and sizzles of flame echoing through the air.  Despite that commotion, Dom noticed movement out of the corner of his eye – Adrian trying to sneak away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he called after him.

The bard froze and swallowed hard.  “Shit.  Uh, so I have some other things that I need to…” he trailed off as he saw Dom cross his arms, and heaved out a sigh.  “Oh well, it was worth a shot anyway.”

Dom just nodded, pushing Adrian his own training regimen, and the bard trudged off to another corner of the arena.  Although, Dom saw more amusement than actual dread in his expression.  But if that display had been that effective in making Adrian even a little worried… well, then it must have worked well for the others.

His tasks complete, Dom turned back to the arena to find Walt standing there waiting for him.  The earth mage didn’t say anything.  His eyes just surged green, and a Gravity Well descended around Dom, his limbs suddenly weighing several times more than they should.  Despite that pressure, he was still able to move, albeit much more slowly.  He turned to the side of the arena, stepping toward the pile of water-filled barrels stacked there – courtesy of Adrian’s planning.  He stooped down, grabbed one of the barrels, and lifted with every fiber of his being, his legs and arms straining and his bones crunching and crackling.

He had his own training to tackle, after all.

Chapter 42 - Promotions

Rock music beat against the walls of the arena, a raucous, rising metallic shriek.  In the stands, the crowd of goblins pounded their feet in time with that deadly melody.  In the middle of it all, Wingman was perched on a raised wooden dais that her followers had erected in her honor, occasionally plucking at the organ meats arrayed before her as she watched the scene playing out in the ring.

Adrian’s buffs had spread to the other members of <Death and Taxes>, their bodies glowing with multi-colored light – enhancing their speed and Dodge.  Just another handicap for Dom as he faced off against them.  His suit had long since been seared off, revealing the thick layer of scars that riddled his body.  Not that his impressive natural defenses had been nearly enough to blunt Willow’s flames, burns and welts now covering his arms.

Dom surged forward in a blur, kicking off at the last moment as a spray of electrified bullets whizzed past, the lightning pricking at the hair along his arms.  He landed with a catastrophic boom, sending up a spray of dirt and rock fragment as his fists crashed into the cavern floor.  The shockwave spread outward, sending his opponents toppling to the floor…

Or, at least, it should have.

A Gravity Well suddenly shot from the floor, sending them floating up into the air.  Another flash of electricity and Lauren darted around the arena, firing off precise shots, which sent her teammates hurtling toward Dom – taking advantage of the lack of friction in their temporary, zero gravity environment.  The earth mage had gotten better.  The spell wasn’t affecting Dom.

Illusions, he thought to himself.  That could be the only explanation for them closing into melee range with him.

Dom raised his arms even as he sucked in air, releasing a Challenging Shout just as the illusions burst apart in a spray of icy fragments.  That wave of force was enough to knock most of the missiles from the air – thanks in part to Walt’s Gravity Well.  His missile shields handled the stray shards that made it through, only a mere handful cutting into Dom’s arms, slicing through his thick skin and leaving thin trails of blood in their wake.

Not enough—

That thought was cut off as he felt a bullet impact each limb, piercing easily through his skin and electricity suddenly arcing through his body, his back spasming.  In a flash, he saw their strategy.  They’d used the illusions to distract.  The dirt from his own Leap attack – a recent addition to his arsenal – obscuring them from sight.  The fragments from Vanessa’s clones had been just enough to burn his missiles shields, opening him up to Lauren.

But Dom had progressed as well.

He strained against the electricity – the energy no longer able to completely incapacitate him.  Dom plucked the bullets from his arms and legs, dropping the bloody metal to the floor as the Gravity Well finally ended.  As soon as his feet touched the ground, he kicked off toward the side of the arena, a pillar of flame crashing down where he’d just been standing.  He could hear them now… moving back into the cloud of dust to use it as cover.  That was clever.

Dom pivoted in midair, his feet slamming into the stone siding of the arena, a few overexcited goblins toppling down into the dirt – letting out joyous screams as the crowd roared.  Then he took off again, heading back into the cloud.

Adrian will be next.  He marked the bard’s position based on his song.

Without hesitating, Dom slapped his hands to his ears, just hard enough for his eardrums to burst – he wouldn’t need his hearing now.  This fight would end soon, and the bump to his luck multiplier would only help him.  Blood seeped between his fingers just as Adrian let loose a piercing whistle that slammed across Dom’s body, his skin rippling from the impact.

As Dom cleared the dust, he saw the bard and the others perched around him.  Adrian’s eyes went wide as he realized Dom had taken out his own ears – shaking his head even as he pivoted and blurred away.  The others scattered, as well.  If he hadn’t incapacitated himself, Dom would likely have been left confused and disoriented by Adrian’s sonic attack, more than enough for them to set up another opportunity for a killing blow.

The group was breaking formation now.  They couldn’t let him get close.

“Too late,” he growled – unable to hear even his own words.

Another Challenging Shout escaped his lips, stunning them in place.

Dom switched targets – going for the most dangerous among them.  His hands snatched at Vanessa, but his fingers slid across the icy armor that suddenly coated her body, failing to catch hold.  The mage used her momentum to twist from his grasp – even stunned.  She must have anticipated that he’d go for her first.  Damn it.

Dom crashed headlong into a frozen wall that suddenly appeared among the dirt and debris.  Another Gravity Well followed, the force slamming him down into the floor, just as another hand reached up from the ground and snatched his ankle.  He felt himself pulled under the dirt and rock, lodged in place up to his waist.

Dust billowed and swirled as Willow emerged from the cloud, flame wreathing her body.  Vanessa’s wall must have been meant to stop Dom for Walt’s follow-up attack and protect the rest of the team from Willow.  He was impressed.

The temperature was rising so swiftly now that it set Willow’s hair ablaze as she powered up her next spell with Overcharge, maintaining the channel on her Fire Nova at the same time – using it like an aura.  Yet the older woman paid it no mind.  And Dom ignored the way welts were slowly forming along his skin.

What was a little pain at this point?

But it still wasn’t enough.

Dom tensed his legs rapidly, breaking up the rock and surging out of the ground with a spray of stone.  Only for a series of electrified bullets to come from directly above.  Yet luck was in his favor this time, and Dom slipped on a patch of ice.  The bullets raced past, crashing into the stone as well as the pool of water that had formed there as Vanessa’s ice melted.  Lightning arced out through that pool, striking both Adrian and Walt along the edge of the ring, their limbs going rigid – briefly incapacitated and the bard’s song dropping off.

Dom caught himself with one hand, flipping back onto his feet—

Only to face off against Willow, Lauren, and Vanessa.

All three crackling and sizzling with elemental energy as they surrounded him, just out of range of his Challenging Shout.  Not that he had time to draw in a breath.

“Fuck,” Dom grunted, just barely raising his arms in time.

A massive ball of flame rocketed away from Willow and barreled straight into Dom.  He didn’t have time to dodge or deflect it.  So, he set his feet and grabbed the damn thing.

Flames seared into his skin, melting away his flesh despite his improved Fire Resistance, Dom straining to stop the spell’s momentum.  The others wouldn’t be able to fire until the flames were gone, at least.  However, he still needed to deflect it before it ate into his muscle and he lost control of his arms.  He let out a roar of rage, and his arms surged.

Then he sent the ball hurtling to the side, sending it straight at Adrian and Walt as they were recovering from the electricity.  Walt acted quickly, snatching the bard and pulling them both down into the rock, flames smashing against the arena wall and melting into the stone.  The fires shot upward, killing at least a dozen goblins in the stands – a renewed roar of approval rocking the crowd.  The greenskins didn’t spare a moment of remorse for their fallen, simply kicking the burnt corpses out of the way as they surged back to the edge of the wall.

But Lauren and Vanessa were waiting.

Dom’s missile shield was up again, but Lauren didn’t aim at him.  Instead, she shot the floor at his feet.  At that fucking water.  Electricity arced up through his legs and stunned him briefly.  Dom didn’t get a chance to appreciate that move as massive icy lances struck home, those shards aiming for where he was weakest – his arms.  The cuts and scratches along his body that hadn’t yet mended.  They cut into him… then through him, skewering him to the floor.

The muscle in his arms was no longer responding, the damage too severe.

Neither were his legs as Lauren added a few more bullets for good measure, punching straight through his remaining Missile Shields.

Dom looked up then, his own blood dripping into his eyes as he saw the group converge around him – not dropping their guard for a moment, even with him fully incapacitated.  Another Gravity Well crashed down around Dom and the ice thickened.  A few well-placed shots struck the frozen lances, and electricity arced through his body again.  Layers upon layers of crowd control.  And despite that, they all kept their distance and their defenses up.

However, Dom just shook his head as he met their eyes.  He was disappointed.

“What are you… fucking… waiting for?” he ground out despite the ice embedded in his chest and lightning coursing through his body.  “Don’t… hesitate.  Kill me!”  He roared that last demand, his arm ripping through an ice lance, slicing clean through his triceps.  But it was enough for him to press his finger to his forehead, staring down Lauren.

He saw her expression harden…

And then she fired.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

***

Dom entered the casino abruptly.

A cacophony of sound met his entrance – an excited roar from the goblins that were watching the fight on the big screen, their cheers punctuated by the tinkle of coin trading hands.  This fight had long been anticipated by the greenskins over the last few days in game.  A culmination of nearly a thousand deaths by each of them.

Despite his brutal death, Dom didn’t waver for a damn second, his feet planting down firmly as he steadied himself.  He could still feel the adrenaline surging through his body.  That rush of euphoria that came with a truly extraordinary fight – pushing himself well past his limits.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time,” the Gambler observed calmly, polishing a glass at the nearby bar.  “Although, I’m adding this to my list of reasons you might be touched in the head.  A man shouldn’t be happy to be killed by his own teammates.”

Dom shook his head.  “That was… entertaining,” he replied, a grin still on his lips.

“So, I take it they’re ready then?” the Gambler asked, arching an eyebrow.  “I can’t help but notice that none of them preceded you,” he offered with a wave at the casino floor.

“Yes, yes, I think they are,” Dom replied evenly.

The timer in the corner of his vision had already struck zero, a panel in the ceiling opening with a whoosh.  Dom was immediately sucked up into the dark void on the other side.

The Gambler just snorted, turning his attention back to his glass.  “Well, then this next part should be quite… lucrative,” he murmured, his eyes flashing amber.

***

Dom reappeared in the arena to another wave of noise from the stands, goblins cheering and sending chips flying into the air as brawls broke out among the crowd.  For her part, Wingman fluttered down from her perch, her entourage letting out shouts of alarm.  She barreled into Dom in a yellow-streaked blur, the impact forcing him to take a step back and a grunt escaping his lips.

“You really need to slow down on the treats,” he grumbled as the bird clucked at him, pecking at his clothes and arms to make sure there was no lasting damage.

Then his eyes turned toward his team.

They were still alive, although they looked like they’d been through hell.  Their armor was singed, bloody, and coated in dust.  But they’d survived.  And now they were all waiting, looking at him with nervous expressions despite their victory.  Dom could see the same thought echoing through each of their heads.

It took all of us… and still he put up a hell of a fight.

Dom’s lips split into a wide smile.  “You all did great!” he announced, clapping his hands together with a concussive boom that startled them out of their stupor.  They were a little jumpy.  Part of that might have been their hellish training cycle.  Dom and Adrian were more accustomed to it than the rest of the group, who’d all died countless times to get to this point.

They were also likely exhausted – only leaving AO for brief food and bathroom breaks.  They’d actually started napping in-game, insisting that was good enough.  No one wanted to be left behind in the hours it would take to get a real night’s sleep.

“Sure, but we barely won,” Walt muttered, shaking his head.

“But you did win,” Dom retorted.  “That’s all that matters.”

He eyed the casters.  “My only comment is that you need to finish the fight sooner next time.  You did fine layering CC on me.  But you should have gone for the killing blow immediately.”

Lauren winced.  “There’s something different when you’re killing your own.”  Willow nodded at that, and even Vanessa looked conflict – a testament to how far she’d come in taming her pride over the last few days.

Dom nodded.  “Of course, but it doesn’t matter who you’re fighting.  <The Jackals> are assholes.  They’re easy to hate.  However, this is just one contract.  There’ll be more.  Do you think we’ll only be hired to kill bad guys?” Dom asked.

They all glanced at him in surprise at that.  They clearly hadn’t been thinking much beyond the current contract, but he could see his words had landed.

“Speaking of which… training is officially over,” Dom said with a grin.  “You’ve all passed with flying colors.”

He could only chuckle under his breath as the group let out a collective sigh of relief.  Walt simply collapsed back onto the floor.  Willow and Vanessa started chatting, going over the battle in detail.  And Lauren and Adrian’s hands swiped at the air as they brought up their in-game UI, likely checking up on their notifications.

Which reminded Dom that it had been a minute since he checked his.

Or maybe more like a week.

x41 Level Up!

You have (205) undistributed stat points.

Stat Increases:

+68 Strength

+43 Dexterity

+52 Endurance

+121 Vitality

New Active Skill:  Leap

We heard you had some mobility problems, so why not just jump really hard, right?  You might even be able to combine this with another ability.  Like, I dunno, Bull Rush?

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  15 Yard Distance.

Effect 2:  +10% Speed.

New Passive Skill:  Lightning Resistance

You have some lightning-fast reflexes…

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2.

Effect 1:  +10.50% Resistance to Lightning.

Effect 2:  -21% Stun Duration.

New Passive Skill:  Cold Resistance

Seriously, you need to chill.  P.S. – We apologize for these skill summaries.  They were really low effort.  The person responsible has been “iced.”  Last one, we promise!

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2.

Effect 1:  +10.50% Resistance to Cold.

Effect 2:  -21% Freeze Duration.

x10 Skill Level Up:  Fire Resistance

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1.

Effect 1:  +10% Resistance to Fire.

Effect 2:  -20% Burn Duration.

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Sonic Resistance

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  +24% Resistance to Sound-Based Attacks.

Effect 2:  -24% Sonic Stun Duration.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Bleeding Resist

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  -11.00% Bleed Damage.

Effect 2:  -22% Bleed Duration.

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Toughness

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 9

Effect 1:  -10.00% damage and pain.

Effect 2:  Reduced fatigue duration by 18%.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Iron Skin

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 10

Effect 1:  +1,026 Armor.

Effect 2:  +14% Increased Total Armor.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Hardy

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 7

Effect 1:  +12% Vitality.

Effect 2:  +14% Health Regeneration

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Strength Training

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  +11% Strength.

Effect 2: +22% Force Increase.

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Endurance Training

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 4

Effect 1:  +11.50% Endurance.

Effect 2:  -23% Stamina Consumption.

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Unarmed Fighting

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 6

Effect 1:  +12.50% damage and speed.

Effect 2:  +10% Crit Chance.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Challenging Shout

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 8

Effect 1:  1.5 Second Stun and Increased Aggro.  18.5 Yard Radius.

Effect 2:  17% Increased Threat

Stamina Cost:  300

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Bull Rush

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 9

Effect 1:  38% Increased Impact Force

Effect 2:  18% Increased Impact Area

Stamina Cost:  300

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Roll the Dice

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 2

Effect 1:  +1 increased luck per kill.  Max stacks of 12.  Duration 15 seconds.  Refreshes on kill.  Multiplicative with the effects of Chaotic Blessing.  All stacks lost on death.

Effect 2:  +.55% damage and global damage resist per stack.

After reviewing his skills and Character Status, Dom added his extra skill points to Strength, Dexterity, and Endurance to bring them each up to roughly 300 with his additional skill bonuses.  Then he allocated the remaining points to Vitality – since more health and health regeneration were never a bad thing.  Once he was finished, he pulled up his Character Status again.

Character Status

Name:

Dom

Gender:

Male

Level:

101

Class:

Race:

Human

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Fame:

0

Infamy:

0

Health:

9,450

H/Sec:

51.10

Mana:

0

M/Sec:

0.00

Stamina

5,016

S/Sec:

44.66

Str

301

Dex

303

Vit

447

End

301

Int

10

Will

10

Lck

10

Affinities

Dark:

9%

Light:

11%

Fire:

6%

Water:

3%

Air:

26%

Earth:

3%

Dom was starting to look… rather formidable, which might go a long way to explain why his teammates had encountered so much difficulty killing him.  But that was in the past.  He needed to keep looking toward the future.

With a flick of his wrist, Dom brought up his training spreadsheets.

“Now… what should I train next?” He murmured to himself.

***

“I would kill to see his stats,” Vanessa muttered under her breath.

Willow just grunted, following her gaze from where the two women were perched along the wall.  Dom was sitting cross-legged in the center of the arena, oblivious to the destruction around him as he swiped at the air.

“It’s obvious that they’re insane.  And I have a feeling his skill list is… long,” Willow replied, shaking her head.  “Although, it’s clearly not just his skills or stats that’s giving him his edge.  You see how he acted during the last part of that fight?  The way he dared us to kill him?  That look in his eye.”  The older woman shook her head.

Vanessa grimaced.  “Are you really surprised?  That was nothing compared to him training his resistances.  He died what?  100 times to each of us?  He just stood there and let us rip him apart.  Who does that?”

“I wonder what his story is?” Willow murmured.

She noticed Vanessa looking at her in surprise.  “What?” the older woman asked.  “He has to have a damn good reason to go through all of this pain and effort.”  She looked out at the other members of <Death and Taxes> lounging around the arena – Walt passed out on the ground and Lauren using a few goblins as target practice.  “Although, I suppose we probably all do to go through this sort of hell.  I doubt we’d have even lasted the trip otherwise.”

Vanessa just sniffed, and Willow raised an eyebrow.  “Like what’s your story?”

The ice mage met her gaze evenly.  “You first,” she challenged.

Willow just smiled.  Likely, the girl didn’t expect her to show her hand.  But she was too old for this posturing bullshit.  “Well, I’m no spring chicken – as you might have noticed,” she commented with a wry smile.  “Honestly, though?  I guess I’m looking for something.”

“That’s vague,” Vanessa observed.

With a tilt of her head, Willow let out a chuckle.  “I suppose it is.  Since you kids never have time to hear a full story, I’ll give you the cliff notes then.  Rich husband.  Died.  Our business partner promptly screwed me out of the company with the help of my good-for-nothing-kids.  Stuck my old ass in a guardianship and then buried me in a shithole of a retirement home,” she listed off on her fingers.  “By the way, never get pregnant.  Buy a dog,” she offered.

Willow sighed.  “So, I guess it’s this or play bingo.”

She looked up to find Vanessa staring.  “Shit,” the ice mage muttered.  “So, when you say you’re looking for something…”

The older woman shrugged.  “Maybe a part of me just wants to burn the whole damn thing down,” she offered, flames licking across her skin as she smiled.  “Killing people to buy my way out of this living purgatory probably isn’t a bad second option.”

Willow glanced at Vanessa again, fire shining in her eyes.  “Can you top that?”

Vanessa snorted in amusement.  “Maybe not…”

Willow just waited.  Hell, she’d had to learn to be patient.

“Okay fine.  I graduated high school valedictorian.  Onward to an ivy league school.  Aced my classes the first two years in university.  Business, of course,” she offered to Willow’s unspoken question.  “Even had a summer internship lined up at Cerillion Entertainment, if you can believe it.  Then I made a mistake.”

Willow raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

Ice was forming along Vanessa’s skin.  “I trusted someone.  Helped them with a fucking paper.  They used it as a chance to hack my damn Core while I was in the bathroom.  Turned in my paper then claimed I copied their work.”  The ice was crackling now, growing and expanding.  “Like I needed to do that?  Me?”

Then, all at once, the shards fell, shattering against the dirt and stone of the arena floor.  And Vanessa seemed to collapse in on herself at the same time.  “Not that anyone believed me.  My classmates came out of the woodwork defending the other girl.  Jealous little bitches,” she muttered.  “Even my parents didn’t believe me with everyone saying otherwise.

She shook her head.  “Not a single other school will touch me now.  My parents let me move back in, but it cost me.  The way they look at me.  The lowkey shit they keep saying.  And now everyone knows.  Social-fucking-media.  I’ve even had a few employers bring it up.  You can’t search my damn name without that shit popping up.”

Vanessa waved at the arena.  “This?  This game?  Won it in a fucking raffle.”

She snorted.  “Lucky me, huh?”

Silence followed those words.

“Huh, so a tie then?” Willow asked finally.

Vanessa couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from her lips, a sudden smile warming the chill that had swept across her face.  “I suppose I can live with that,” she retorted.

***

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Dom looked over to see Adrian at his side, a grin on his face.  “Look at you, sitting over here all alone,” he offered.

Dom let out a sigh.  “Hard to find a time to myself lately.”

They both looked out at the others.  “Shit, are… are Willow and Vanessa bonding?” Adrian muttered.  He rubbed at his eyes.  “Hell, might actually be freezing over as we speak.”

Dom let out a chuckle.  “I suspect we all have more in common than we might think.”

“Oh, really?” Adrian demanded.  “Not me.  I’m fucking perfect.”

The only reasonable response to that was a sigh.

The bard’s expression sobered.  “So, you planning to have a heart-to-heart with them?  Tell them what’s really at stake here for you?”

“Maybe eventually,” Dom replied after a brief hesitation.  “But not yet.  I think that’s probably too much right now.  And I don’t want to distract them from what’s coming.”

“Fair enough.  But if you’re looking for a lighter topic, I’m pretty sure it’s time to hand out a few presents now that our recruits have finally graduated from basic training,” Adrian replied with a broad smile, raising his bag.

With a crackle of lightning, Lauren was suddenly standing nearby.  “Presents?” she asked, peering up at the bard with wide eyes. “What kind of presents?  Like a big, shiny new gun?”

Her enthusiasm was equally matched by Wingman, who was dancing from foot to foot beside the girl, the chicken’s eye gleaming and its stomach rumbling loudly.

Adrian arched an eyebrow as he stared down at the girl.  “Uh, well, maybe not those kinds of presents,” he offered cautiously – likely considering what this pair might do if they were disappointed.  He’d certainly seen them both in action.

The girl and chicken both wilted at that.  Wingman simply dropped back down beside Dom and closed her eye.  Lauren’s body disappeared in a flash, the girl suddenly reappearing on the ground and using the chicken as a pillow as she swiped at the air.

Adrian glared at them in exasperation, and Dom let out a low chuckle.  “No fucking appreciation.”

“Oh, presents!” Willow offered with mock enthusiasm as she approached with Vanessa in tow, kicking Walt awake on their way.  “What could they possible be?”

“Shut it, Fire Granny,” Adrian snapped, which just earned him a laugh from both the fire mage and Vanessa.

“Maybe you should just get on with it?” Walt suggested with a yawn.  “I’m pretty sure I haven’t a full night’s sleep in days.”

The bard let out a sigh.  “Fine, since you all are unappreciative shits, here you go,” he said, flinging something at each of them in a blur of motion.  Lauren snatched hers without looking up, and the others caught theirs easily, staring down at the white plastered object in their hands.

“It’s… a mask?  A… smiling mask,” Vanessa offered hesitantly.  Her eyes shot up, ice forming in the air around her.  “You trying to say something?  Maybe something like we should ‘smile more?’”  Fire was also beginning to crackle around Willow.

Adrian raised his hands quickly.  “No, no, no.  I’m not trying to insult you, fair ladies,” he offered, stooping into a low bow.  “These are for your own protection.”

“Protection?” Walt echoed skeptically, staring at the mask.

Willow’s expression melted.  “I know, we’re just fucking with you, junior.”  She glanced at Walt.  “I suspect our bard friend here is worried about the unwanted attention we may draw with our coming… exploits, let us say.”

“Exactly,” Adrian chimed in.  “As you’ve all no doubt seen with Jason, it’s super easy to get dox’ed in-game.  And as Willow so graciously pointed out after the tryouts, we’re sure as hell going to make some enemies – if not with <The Jackals>, then later on.  However, I’m guessing that Cerillion Entertainment isn’t going to offer us all cushy accommodations like our favorite edgelord.”

“Well, clearly, it’s because we aren’t using enough eyeliner,” Lauren quipped, earning her chuckles from the rest of the crew.  Jason’s videos were incredibly well known at this point.  He had adopted a certain sort of flair with his online persona.

“Yes, well, the masks will help with that,” Adrian added as their laughter died down.  “They were created by the Gambler himself.  So, they’ll automatically repair themselves.  Of course, the downside is you won’t get any stats from wearing headgear – but that’s a small price to pay for piracy… shit, excuse me.  Privacy.  Freudian slip there.”

“So, you’re telling me that grumpy old fart back in the casino decided mine should be bedazzled?” Vanessa asked dryly, glaring at Adrian. Gemstone designs covered her mask.

“Mine just has bullets,” Lauren said.  “You want to trade?”

“You can’t trade,” Adrian snapped.

Dom couldn’t help but notice the way Lauren and Vanessa fist-bumped behind the bard’s back.  Some of the tension between the group members had eased over the last few days.  Maybe there was something about dying together hundreds of times that built camaraderie.

He sure hoped so, since that had been part of his plan.

“Anyway,” Adrian ground out through clenched teeth.  “That actually raises the next point.  We also need to protect our names, so I’ve come up with code names for each of us.”

“Blaze,” he said to Willow.

“Pewpew.”  That was Lauren.

“Queen.”  This earned him a begrudging nod from Vanessa.

“Tombs,” Adrian continued, waving at Walt.

“And of course, Dom is Smiles – since that’s what the forums keep calling him anyway.  The design of your masks are meant to go with your name,” the bard finished.  Despite their complaining, Dom could see that none of them had a problem with their names, most nodding appreciatively.  Adrian had actually put some thought into them – as well as their mask designs.  As Lauren slid her mask on, Dom noticed her tag stutter and then shift, her new codename appearing.  It seemed the Gambler really had helped with this project.

“I think you’re missing someone,” Walt remarked dryly.

They were all staring at Adrian now.

“Ahem, yes… well, I suppose you mean my codename?”

They all nodded– just waiting.

“His Most Glorious and Majestic Majesty, God of Song,” he muttered under his breath.

“Majestic majesty?” Lauren offered.  “Really ran out of creative juices there, didn’t you?”

Adrian let out a huff.  “Well, what does some electrified tween know about marketing?  If you’re so smart what would you suggest—”

“Bard,” they all said in unison.

Adrian just stood there, his mouth opening and closing.  “That’s… what… stupid… so mundane.”  His brain had clearly crashed.  He’d experienced just a tiny bit of trauma surrounding his class choice, apparently.

Dom rested a hand on his shoulder.  “I mean, you do keep saying you want to show the people of this world what a real bard can do,” he offered gently.  “And think of the example you would be setting.  What’re you saying to a whole new generation of guitar-wielding death machines if you can’t even rep the name of your own class?”

The others were all nodding at that reasoning, barely covering their amusement.

Adrian shoulders finally slumped.  “Fine,” he muttered.

Only seconds later, he raised his face, his eyes alight with renewed enthusiasm.  “In that case, I will fucking kill anyone who makes fun of my name!  And then dance on their corpses singing!”  He paused, his guitar appearing in hand in a flash.  “Actually, that gives me a great idea for a song.”

The group let out a groan, all glancing at Tombs.  With a sigh, he sunk into the ground, appearing behind Adrian, and touching his ankle. The pair soon vanished from sight, cutting off the first note that escaped the bard’s throat.  Of all the training they’d endured, listening to Adrian’s new songs had to be the most torturous.

“Thanks,” Blaze grunted at Tombs when he reappeared, minus Adrian.

“I just… I just can’t right now,” the earth mage murmured.

“Anyway,” Dom spoke up with a grin.  “Let’s take a break.  You all have more than earned it.  And besides, I have a feeling we won’t have much downtime in the near future.  I suspect <The Jackals> won’t wait much longer to make their move.”

They all nodded, each member logging off in flashes of multi-colored light.

Dom heaved a sigh as he watched them leave.  As hard as their training had been, he expected this next part was going to be tough – a handful of players and a ragtag team of goblins against a coordinated and entrenched army of travelers.  At best, they had a week of in-game prep compared to what?  Months?  On the other hand, at least he was in his element right now.

Dom had always been good at playing defense.

With that thought, he tapped his UI and logged off in a flash of rainbow energy…

Only for Adrian to respawn into an empty arena.  “I’m going to kill—” Adrian cut himself short as he saw that his group was all gone, a glance at his UI confirming that they had logged off.

“Oh, those motherfuckers,” he muttered.

Chapter 43 - Opening Bid

Booker surveyed the jungle before him, taking a long pull on his cigarette, the paper flaring brightly as an aching burn filled his lungs.  Yet, it wasn’t accompanied by that calming buzz of nicotine.  He stared down at the cigarette, idly wondering if he could have some of their alchemists lace the herb with something more potent.

He’d always felt jittery before a mission.

“That really is a nasty habit,” Nova sighed as she stepped up beside him.

“Not like I can get lung cancer here,” Booker shot back with a wry grin.  “But I appreciate the concern about my health.”

The air mage just shook her head, turning her attention back to the troops that bustled around them.  Their army had ventured down into one of the valleys and a cliffside was positioned at their backs, a rocky dirt path winding its way back up to the top.  There was a clearing here before the rocks gave way to the typical dense vegetation, but it had been filled with their guild members.

Along the tree line, large stacks of barrels had been positioned, the travelers prying open the lids one by one.  A thin, oily liquid was stored inside, sloshing against the wood.  It had taken an immense effort to haul these damn things down here and this entire endeavor had been costly.  Booker could only hope it would be worth it.

“We’re nearly ready,” Gary reported, walking over to Booker and scanning the air, barely focusing on the guild leader – most likely reviewing his chat log and screens.

“About time,” Booker observed.

This earned him a glance from the wrench, his attention suddenly focusing on the cigarette hanging from the Booker’s lips.  “You…uh, you might want to put that out.  One stray spark, and we won’t be mounting much of an offensive.”

Booker raised an eyebrow, but he supposed the wrench had a point.  He raised his fingers, staring wistfully at the cigarette before pinching at the paper.  Smoke curled between his fingers, but Booker didn’t even wince.

“Better?” he asked a moment later.

“Don’t know why you’re letting this twerp order you around,” Sean bit out as he approached, his armor strapped in place and his swords tucked behind his back.

“This twerp is the only reason we have a plan of attack,” Nova retorted.  “He’s also responsible for those masks that will be keeping you and your men alive,” she added, waving at the leather wrap hanging from Sean’s throat, a yellow gem pulsing along the front.

“Uh, thanks.  But I’d really love it if you all would stop calling me a twerp,” Gary murmured, adjusting his glasses.

Sean slapped him on the back, pitching the slender man forward.  “Tell you what, if your gear works, I’ll call you whatever you want.  Sound fair?”

“J-just splendid,” Gary muttered with a scowl.

“Your troops in position and geared up?” Booker asked Sean.

“Of course.  We’re ready to move at your signal.”

The raid leader’s eyes drifted toward the barrels as he spoke, water mages lining up behind them, air mages stationed further back, and then a final row of fire mages.  The guild was out in force today, more than three hundred mages grouped here, nearly all of their casters.  And even more players lingered back along the ridge, wearing heavier armor and loaded down with good old-fashioned, magically-enhanced steel – Sean’s forces.

“We heard anything from Dom and his goblins?” Booker asked, directing this question at Nova.  The air mage waved at the air and shook her head a moment later.

“Nothing.  They’ve been quiet for a couple days now.  They haven’t even left for their normal hunting parties,” she explained.  “Looks like they’re running scared.”

Booker’s brow furrowed.  Maybe.  But at this point, he was done underestimating Dom.

“Good.  Then go get in position,” he instructed Nova.  “Your part is critical.”

She gave him a curt nod, her body infused with amber light as she prepared to rejoin her unit.  Before she could take off, Booker’s hand landed on her shoulder.  “And be careful.”

“You know me.  I’m always careful,” she shot back with a smirk.

Then the air mage took off, leaping up into the nearby trees in a series of mana-infused hops.  She would take a roundabout path through the forest, staying within the thick tree cover, and circle around to rejoin her team.

“I suppose you aren’t going to explain what the hell any of that meant?” Sean offered with a frown as he leaned against a nearby boulder.

Booker just shook his head.  “Mission integrity comes first.  You know that.  Until we light the fuse here, we all need to focus on our assignments.”

Sean just snorted.  “Wish I knew what your ‘assignment’ even is.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Booker retorted, his expression dead serious.

“I’d love to see you try,” Sean shot back with a grin, although something in his expression wavered.  The truth was that the raid leader had never seen Booker in action – no one had.  Sean wasn’t even entirely sure of Booker’s level.  And yet, his word was still law.  People who questioned his authority had a tendency to simply disappear.

“Well, you might get your wish if you don’t get your ass back to your troops,” Booker said, breaking the tension and looking mournfully at the remains of his cigarette.  “We move in ten.”

“Finally!” Sean exclaimed, stretching his neck to the crackle and crunch of bone.  When his eyes opened again, blue and white lightning flashed through his irises.  “It’s about time I got a real rematch with this asshole.”  With those words, he suddenly disappeared in a blaze of electricity, arcing his way back up the path at their backs.

“Those t-two both seem… excitable,” Gary murmured, watching Sean leave.  “Hopefully, they can stay focused.  The margin of error here is quite small.”

“It’ll be fine,” Booker answered calmly.  “Let’s get this show started, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” Gary nodded, waving at one of the nearby air mages.  Then the pair headed off into the group of mages, the casters snapping to attention as whispered words trailed down their ranks on mana-infused winds.

Booker slid a cigarette case from his pocket, tapping the end and pulling another free.  He placed it on his lips but didn’t bother to light it – Gary’s warning echoing in his mind.  He wouldn’t have to wait long, however.

Already, the water mages stared off into space as Gary pushed a raid notice to their groups.  They soon began to cast as one, sapphire energy swirling around staves and wands.  This attack was inspired by one of the avatars.  Booker had found rumors online about Finn’s attack on Sandscrit, even if there was strangely little video of the siege.  But what he had managed to find on a few backwater sites showed a massive storm front – a hurricane of enormous proportions that had simply sprung up from the desert – something entirely impossible for one mage.

So how had he done it?  Booker couldn’t be certain, but he had a theory, at least.

He’d always told these “travelers” the truth – these men and women lined up beside him, all wearing the white claw regalia that marked them as his people.  But few actually listened to him.  Even Nova and Sean didn’t quite believe him.

The truth was that they hadn’t “traveled” anywhere.

This place was just as harsh, brutal, and cruel as the real world.

It acted on the same merciless rules – rules that didn’t give two shits about levels, stats, and loot.  Not really.  Not at the end of the day.  Just like how in the real world, all of the money and mansions and private security didn’t mean crap if someone was determined enough.  All it took was one guy with a van loaded down with homebrewed explosives.

It was about resolve.  The lengths a person was willing to go to accomplish a goal.

Booker certainly had that in spades now – motivation.

Which is why he was now watching a billowing blanket of moisture roll up and away from the barrels lined before the jungle.  The vapor hung there, growing until it entirely obscured the trees and vegetation.  It glimmered and spun in the sunlight, occasionally giving off a rainbow hue that reminded Booker of oil on hot pavement.  Obscuring Mist, the mages called this spell.  Booker’s guess had paid off when he tested it.  The spell could vaporize pretty much any liquid.

He had that “Ice Witch” to thank for this one.  Eliza was her name, right?

The water mages stepped back then, still channeling mana into the cloud.  The air mages paced forward, and amber energy enveloped their bodies.  Stiff winds soon swept down from the cliff at their back, whipping at Booker’s clothing as he raised a protective hand to hold fast to his unlit cigarette.  No sense wasting one.

The gale shoved at the thick cloud of moisture, sending it rolling out into the jungle.  Racing across thick ferns.  Coating tree branches and trunks.  Drifting past those fucking beasts and insects that prowled, and clawed, and skittered through this dense green hell.  Their eyes must be watching that mist, coughing and sputtering as they breathed it in and their lungs seized.  Yet they couldn’t know what it was – not yet anyway.

Seconds… then minutes ticked past with calm certainty.

Then Gary pushed a final notification, glancing at Booker nervously.

Raid Notice:  Commence Mission?

Your raid officer has initiated a ready check.

Would you like to commence Mission Firestorm?

[Yes/No]

Booker sighed in relief as that nervous, jittery feeling finally settled.  He always experienced that sense of anticipation that came before a mission… but once it started?  Well, he was cool as a fucking cucumber.  Which is why he didn’t hesitate.  He raised a steady hand and tapped “yes.”

The line of fire mages suddenly flared to life, a hundred Fireballs forming in the air simultaneously, a countdown hovering in the air before each of them.  Ten seconds counting down with interminable slowness.  The mist continued to spread out across the jungle, stretching its way toward Dom and his motley town of little green assholes.

The countdown struck zero.

And the fire mages launched their spells.

A barrage of flame shot through the air, striking the edge of the forest.  There was no need to aim.  No need for precision.  They just splashed the area with fire, trying to ignite as much of the edge of the forest as possible.  And boy, did they accomplish their goal.

The accelerant that the water mages had spread lit with explosive fury, fires blazing to life and spearing up those damn trees with abandon.  They incinerated the plant life along the edge of the forest in an instant and swept forward hungrily, devouring plant and animal alike.  The native beasts knew they were in trouble now – a panicked cry rising from the trees.  Screams, growls, and shouts.  They didn’t need a language to convey what they were feeling.

Terror.  Pure terror.

They would flee toward the east, but the flames would outpace them.  All just part of Booker’s plan – an attack that would be impossible in any other game with its rules and restrictions.  But not here.  Not inside AO.  Booker was going to destroy the entire forest around Dom’s encampment – robbing him of both food and resources.

Booker’s eyes took in the dense, billowing dark smoke that was rising from the jungle.  Suddenly, another gust of amber energy swept across the blaze that and created a ceiling above the smoke, trapping it within the forest and pushing it forward to the east.  Empty mana potions lay along the ground, tinkling as they struck the dirt – their contents now flowing through his air mages’ veins.  And as those winds struck the trees, the fires burned faster and hotter. They ate through the wood in mere seconds.  More air mages were hidden all along the edges of this valley to help contain that smoke.  Channel it.  Control it.

On cue, Sean’s forces were descending from the cliffs at his back.  They jumped from the edges like metal-clad lemmings, only to land upon large, pillowy clouds of water formed by the blue-robed mages – their mana having regenerated during the other phases of their assault.  They formed a mist so thick it actually had buoyancy, blunting the fall.

Each of those soldiers was wearing a mask over their face, amber gemstones flickering along the front.  They’d tested the equipment extensively.  The gems filtered the smoke and allowed them to see at least a few feet.  But for the goblins?  For Dom and his ragtag band of misfits?  No such fucking luck.

Sean just spared Booker a wave as he raced past in an electric blur, his troops surging into the smoky forest ahead of them as they followed the sea of flame flowing ever further east.

Booker slowly pulled a fiery gem from his pocket, touching it gently to the tip of his cigarette, even as the last of their troops raced off into the smoky black abyss that lingered before him.  He took a long pull, relishing the sensation.

His UI pinged – Nova informing him that they were beginning to move into position and would be awaiting his orders to execute on their part in this assault.

He let out a sigh.  It looked like it was time for him to get to work.

“Alright, let’s go create a distraction,” he murmured to himself.

Then Booker strode forward, stepping calmly into the thick smoke, his face free and unmasked, wearing only light leather armor – nothing that could encumber him.  And as he crossed the threshold, the smoke billowed around him, wrapping his body but not quite touching his clothing, leaving just enough space for him to breathe.

Soon, Booker had vanished completely.

Chapter 44 - Counteroffer

Dom stood on the wooden walls blocking the pass to Boomtown, his gaze pointed toward the jungle.  At his back, the inner valley was complete chaos, greenskins running every which way as they prepared for the oncoming battle.  More than a few fights had even broken among their ranks as the goblins fought over choice gear.  Meanwhile, others just sat drinking and watching the show.  A number of the greenskins seemed to have entered into murder-suicide pacts, blasting each other away before turning their guns on themselves… likely intending to stake out better seats in the casino.  They really weren’t the best allies.

Either way, Dom tried to ignore all of that nonsense.

“Huh,” Adrian muttered from beside Dom.  “So, the fires didn’t quite reach us since we’d cleared out a lot of the trees around the pass.  But is the giant black death cloud a bad sign?”  He waved at the dense black smoke that surged forward, a wall of vapor dozens of feet high.  It was unnatural the way it moved along the ground.

“I’m going to go with a ‘hell yes,’” Lauren offered, flashing back up onto the ramparts after her quick trip scouting, smoke coiling off her gear and soot smudging her ivory mask.

“What’d you see?” Dom grunted.

“Well, we have a ton of guests coming.  They’re using the smoke as cover.  Seem to be wearing some sort of mask?  Glowing amber gem along the front – must be filtering the smoke,” she explained, gesturing at her face.  “I had to hold my breath.  The smoke is that dense.”

She cocked her head.  “Oh, and by the way, the masks don’t offer much protection from my bullets.  I tested that… you know, for science.”  This earned her a chuckle from Walt.

“Clever on their part,” Adrian muttered.  He eyed the goblins stationed along the ramparts and raised terraces that had been haphazardly anchored to the adjacent cliffs.  They held long rifles – Whistleknot’s creations.  “That soupy shit is going to make it tough to use our guns.”

“I’m not too worried about that part,” Dom replied slowly.

“What’s the point of this?  A frontal attack seems pointless, even with the cover,” Vanessa observed from where she lounged against the nearby barricade.  She side-eyed Dom.  “We’ll still respawn, as will these green idiots behind us.  But if they die… it’s back to Aislen for them.”

Dom just nodded.  That echoed his own concern.  Booker had shown himself to be a canny tactician – even if his choice of tactics often left something to be desired.  Like general morality or ethics, for example.  Not that Dom was really in a position to judge, not anymore anyway.  He’d just stolen a shitload of gear and sold it to the highest bidder.

Apparently, there was no honor among thieves.

Either way, the leader of <The Jackals> was almost certainly targeting their infrastructure with this attack.  The big question was what his target was…

Dom shifted his attention back to Boomtown.  In just a short week in-game, the goblin camp had expanded dramatically, exploding out from its former barricade.  What was once a chaotic tumble of lean-to structures assembled around and on top of one another was now a dizzying patchwork of stairs, ramps, and overly tight alleys and terraces that stretched upward for several stories.

Booker had to be focused on causing lasting damage.  He could try to destroy the goblins’ town… but the greenskins didn’t seem to care about that.  They’d likely be happy living in a pile of shit as long as they could return to the casino for a drink.

Dom’s attention shot back to the smoke.  Maybe his goal had been to burn the forest?  That would take out an easy supply of wood, forcing the goblins to venture further afield.  And from the growls and cries echoing from that gray sea and the thousands of birds flitting away from the blaze, Dom was guessing the fires would kill off most of the local wildlife.

So, food was going to be a problem.

But those were still temporary setbacks.

There was always more jungle for hunting, and the vegetation grew back at a surprising rate.  Booker would know that.  He’d certainly spent plenty of time building his “highway to nowhere.”

“First our manpower, then our supply of wood and food,” Willow said, half to herself.  “What does that leave us?”

“The mines?” Walt ventured, eyeing the smoke nervously.

They all nodded at that.

“Assuming they know about the tunnels,” Dom offered.  “Sean and his crew logged off once they were trapped, and the goblins didn’t let anyone make it farther into that cave.”

“That we know of,” Vanessa offered.  “The goblins aren’t exactly reliable.  Someone could have snuck past those idiots.  Plus, the syllogism here isn’t exactly difficult.  The goblins have to be making their gunpowder from something.  Caving in the mines could set us back weeks.”  Willow nodded in agreement with that, her brow furrowed in thought.

Dom sighed.  “I suppose your right.  Either way, the mines are a priority defensive position.  But we’ve already stationed plenty of goblins there, and it’s going to be tough for Booker’s troops to make it all the way to the arena, much less get past our defenses there.  This all feels like a longshot on his end.”

“Agreed.  It still feels like we’re missing something,” Willow muttered.

Truggle chose that moment to make an appearance, lumbering up onto the barricade, a massive mug of beer in each hand and his two-handed axe strapped along his back.  Each mug was almost as large as Dom’s head and appeared to have been strapped to his hands with ropes.  “Fightz comin’,” he growled as he saw the smoke, taking a long pull on his beer.

“Should you really be drinking right now?” Adrian asked.  “And why are both your hands tied to your mugs?”

“Whyz not?  Power juice,” he grunted back.  He stared down at his hands.  “Also good clubz once theyz empty,” Truggle added.

Adrian just shook his head.  But it’s not like the goblins or hobgoblins needed to stay sober for what was coming.  If anything, the digital alcohol probably just made them even more reckless and insane.  A perk in their eyes.

“Not the worst plan,” Walt murmured.  “I could use a drink too.”  His eyes were still on the smoke, shaking his head.  The earth mage looked worried.

“Me three!” Lauren raised her hand.  The rest of the party just sighed.

“No, girlie,” Willow replied simply, stopping Truggle before he could offer her one of his mugs.  The goblin looked confused.

“So, I can brutally murder other people, but I’m not old enough to drink?” Lauren demanded, crossing her arms and lightning crackling along her skin.

“Welcome to real life.  It’s full of double standards,” Willow commented dryly.  “Plus, as a woman, you get an extra helping of hypocrisy.  Just something to look forward to as you get older,” she offered as Lauren rolled her eyes.

Dom rolled his eyes.  “Walt is going to stay here with you,” he said, addressing the young air mage.  “I need you two to defend the ramparts.”

Lauren’s eyes shot to him.  “What?  First, I can’t drink, and now I get some age-ist bullshit?  Keep the little girl in the rear?  You know I could take out more of these assholes than these other old shits.  They’ll probably have to stop for a nap or something.  You think Fire Granny here is going to be able to keep up?”

Adrian surreptitiously fist-bumped her for using his nickname for Willow.

The older woman just huffed out a breath.  “He stationed Walt here too,” she reminded Lauren.  “It’s not about your age or abilities.”

Dom just pointed at her.  “Look, the bottom line is that you and Walt have the best mobility among us – except for myself, but I suspect I’m going to have my hands full.  And we still don’t know what Booker is planning here.  So, you two have to fill our flex positions.  Guard Adrian and Willow, and be ready to move if need be.”

“Thank the gods,” Walt muttered, looking relieved.  “At least, we get the easy job.”

Lauren just glared at him.  “Okay, so not sexist… or age-ist.  Just boring.”

“I’m more interested in winning than entertainment right now,” Dom replied with a shrug.

She didn’t have much of a retort for that.

“Okay, what about the rest of us?” Vanessa offered, waving at the wall of smoke that was billowing toward them.  The others were all waiting, watching Dom closely.

“I’m going to need some support from you, Adrian, and Willow.  But first, we’re going to have the goblins do some work for us… soften <The Jackals> up a bit.”

They all grimaced.  “You sure that’s a great idea?” Adrian asked.

Dom cocked his head.  “Probably not.  But it should be interesting.  Either way, let’s mask up.  And maintain our codenames during the fight.  Even in chat.”

Following his own advice, Dom pulled his mask down over his face, a perpetual smile painted across the crystalline white surface and a single bloody tear streaking down his cheek.  The rest of his crew tugged their own masks into position, and the tags hovering above their head all flickered and changed.  Maybe he was overthinking things.  Perhaps Booker thought he had Dom and his crew pinned down and outnumbered.  He had to admit, the smoke was clever.  But if so, the man had underestimated just how crazy the goblins could be.

“Hey, Wingman!” Dom shouted down into the courtyard that lingered just inside the gate.  The chicken lay there upon a wooden throne, goblins waving large-leafed ferns at her and placing more treats at her feet.  “Your crew ready?”

An excited squawk met his question.

And the goblins around Wingman answered her cry.  The crowd all released their own squawks and cries, imitating their chicken god – the “Great Cluck Cluck.”  That wasn’t where the imitation ended.  They now all wore feathered capes in addition to their red paint – the attire created by painstakingly plucking feathers from the native birds they captured and killed.  Not that Dom minded.  It was good target practice for their long guns.

And now those cloaks barely obscured the true terror of Wingman’s sycophants.

Dozens of red cylinders had been strapped to each of their chests, bags of scrap metal and bullets hanging from their limbs.  Whistleknot had been skeptical when Dom explained the concept, but he’d eventually come around when Dom had given him a demonstration.  It seemed the concept behind a “claymore mine” still worked in AO.  More than a few were now buried outside of Boomtown, marked with more of the goblins’ signature signs.

They were really artists at heart, after all.

But Dom had decided that the goblins’ suicidal nature could be put to better use.  The regular grunts didn’t have the strength of the hobgoblins or the accuracy of the crafters and snipers.  So, Dom had decided to improvise.  Besides, what was more terrifying than a mine?

The answer: a moving mine!

The only other problem then had been the delivery.

And Jason had solved that problem for Dom – after he carefully reviewed the kid’s clips and videos online.  Dom didn’t have a giant bone demon.  Or exploding corpses.  But he did have goblins strapped with explosives and scrap metal, and he could certainly build catapults.  Those catapults were now positioned along the inside of the gate – their suicide bombers perched in the baskets and ready for their first flight.

“This is a terrible idea,” Lauren muttered, eyeing the interior courtyard skeptically.  Even Willow and Adrian looked nervous.  “We didn’t really have time to test those catapults.  And there are goblins aiming them…”

“They could blow apart the ramparts,” Willow finished for her.

“It’ll be fine,” Dom answered, waving off their concerns.  “What’s the worst that happens?  We die?  We’ll just come back in a few minutes.”  The rest didn’t look convinced.

He glanced at Adrian.  “You’re up.  You want to set the mood?”

For his part, the bard looked excited about his debut.  He gingerly pulled his guitar from its case.  The rest of the crew were already backing up, squeezing wax into their ears to protect their fragile eardrums.  They hadn’t had time to build up their Sonic Resistance just yet.  Although, Dom intended to work on that later.  Maybe pairing them up with the bard would be a good punishment when they stepped out of line.

Adrian flicked at the base of his guitar, Dom signaling the hobgoblins along the ramparts.  They stood before huge, leather-coated drums, the instruments stretching more than six feet in diameter.  They’d found that the greenskins weren’t nearly as good musicians as they were artists.  But they excelled at beating the shit out of stuff, which made them exceptional drummers.  The first THUD vibrated the entire rampart, dust cascading off the wood.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

The drums picked up a steady rhythm as the hobgoblins beat at them with huge wooden clubs.  A raucous cry erupted from the interior valley as the goblins heard the first sounds of war starting, their panicked movements slowing.  They shouted for Adrian, demanding a performance, an audience forming along the inside of the gate.

And the bard delivered.

His fingers plucked at the strings, a squealing, metallic whine filling the air and mixing with the beat of the drums.  Just an introduction.  Then he began to truly play, sound erupting from the ramparts in an almost palpable wave and causing the smoke to undulate in waves.

As the sound cascaded across the goblins, their bodies glowed with a brilliant amber light – their movements speeding up, the effect amplified by the number of goblins accompanying Adrian as their troops raised their own voices into the sky.  This was Battle March, but played on the level of a siege.  As far as they could tell, there was little or no limit to the number of creatures that could be affected by Adrian’s songs – the only real restriction being his volume and reach.

Dom felt the vibrations thud through him, listened to the triumphant metallic ballad, and watched the glow envelop the goblins perched on those catapults – their bodies strapped down with explosives.  He couldn’t help the grim smile that pulled at his lips.  Dom cracked his knuckles, stretching his neck and shoulders to the pop and crunch of bone.

They were facing <The Jackals> head on this time.

And it was finally time to show them what <Death and Taxes> could do.

***

Sean raced forward, darting along the frontlines of his soldiers as they slowly marched forward through the haze.  The electricity wrapping his body pushed away at the smoke and protected his face – making his mask almost unnecessary.  Almost.  It also made him easier to spot among the dense smoke, although most of the raid was using their map to stay in formation.

The fires had devastated the jungle, that wrench’s accelerant far more effective than Sean had expected.  The trees and vegetation had burned up swiftly, the air mages keeping the smoke trapped down in this valley and the casters at their back pushing it forward on magically enhanced winds.  Sean knew his orders.  Stay in formation.  Guide the other group leaders.

He was to lead the frontal assault, which was perfect.  He was itching for a real go with Dom.

And the men beside him looked more than happy to help.  Gone was their fear and hesitation.  It had been their gear – the product of their sweat and toil – that Dom had fucking stolen.  They had seen how much those items sold for on the auction house.  Hours and days of labor gone in an instant.  That asshole had cost them almost $20,000.  And he’d undermined their efforts to escape this hellhole now that they’d been forced into this war.

Booker’s plan had certainly helped.  Seeing this coordinated effort?  The combined effects of hundreds of travelers.  Well, it was hard to deny that <The Jackals> were a force to be reckoned with.  Sean had to admit that even he was impressed with Booker’s plan.

Not that he’d ever tell him that.

A hand on Sean’s shoulder suddenly brought him up short.

He looked to the side to find Booker standing there calmly, cigarette hanging from his lips.  Where the hell had he come from?  Sean hadn’t even seen him approach.  Even more strangely, he wasn’t wearing a mask.  Instead, the smoke seemed to coil around him, creating a pocket of clear air that expanded swiftly to include Sean within its reach.

“What is it?” Sean growled, the sound echoing in his mask.

Booker didn’t bother to reply.  He just pointed at a sign sticking up out of the dirt.  Sean hadn’t even noticed it with all the smoke.  “Foot-splodey!” the sign read.  More were scattered around it, showing goblins with their feet blown off and using crutches.

“The fuck?” Sean muttered.  “Mines?”

“Possibly,” Booker replied quietly.  “Or a ruse.  Only one way to tell for sure.”  He glanced at Sean.  “Stop your group leaders.  But don’t tell group 1.”

Sean cocked his head but quickly pulled up his chat window, typing out a hasty message.  They didn’t have any air mages to spare for this frontal attack – even if they were much more efficient for relaying information among a group of this size.  The green dots on his map slowed and then stopped, the other members of the raid invisible amid the smoke.

But group 1 kept moving – oblivious.

A violent explosion suddenly rocked the area in front of them, followed by screams and shouts of pain.  Sean’s eyes widened as he saw the group’s icons wink out.  A few had survived the blast, but from their raid icons, it was clear they were disabled and bleeding out.

“Huh, claymores,” Booker muttered.  A smile crept across his face.  “Clever.”

“What do we do?” Sean bit out, feeling a little unnerved by the excitement in Booker’s eyes.

Booker took a long drag on his cigarette, thinking.  Then he swiped at the air, bringing up his map, and drew a line with his finger.  A glowing yellow mark suddenly stretched across the ground before them as Booker pushed the waypoint to the raid.

“Have everyone stay behind this line,” Booker explained.  “Grab some rocks and stones and pitch them into the field.  I’m guessing Dom and his crew can’t see us easily from the ramparts with the smoke – especially after that air mage was forced to scout our position in person.  So, let’s make ‘em think we’re advancing.”

Sean frowned but relayed the instructions.

Soon, a series of detonations filled the air.  A few of their raid perished in the explosions as they stepped too close.  Others took chip damage from flying debris and shrapnel.  But the injuries and deaths were manageable, and they’d preserved most of their numbers.  Sean couldn’t help but side-eye Booker as he stood there watching the scene impassively as he took long draws on his cigarette and blew out even more smoke.

Just who the hell was this guy?

As the explosions began to slow… then stop, Booker finally glanced at Sean.  “Now, group 2 advance,” he instructed with a wave of his hand.

“But we took out the mines,” Sean insisted.

Booker raised an eyebrow.  “Group 2 advance,” he repeated.

Sean ground his teeth but relayed the instructions.  He didn’t love this tentative bullshit.  Or acting like the guild leader’s secretary.  But he also couldn’t deny the man’s results.

Group 2 strode forward, their green dots twinkling on Sean’s map.

A sudden piercing shriek erupted from overhead.

“What the fuck is that?” Sean muttered.  “A bird… or chicken?”

Booker didn’t reply, just twitched his fingers, and the smoke curled back, revealing more of the area ahead of them, broken ground and simmering ash – craters blasted in the dirt and the goblins’ signs all but gone now.

The scream ended with a dull thump a few dozen yards ahead of their position.  Then a loud squawk echoed through the smoke, drawing closer rapidly.  Out of the mist, a sudden shape emerged, all flailing limbs and feathers.  At first, Sean took it for a chicken.  But then he saw flashes of green flesh, realizing it was a goblin dressed like a chicken.  The goblin raced toward group 2 and the travelers raised their weapons.

Arrows shot forward, throwing knives on their heels.  Yet, the goblin didn’t even bother to dodge.  He just maintained his high-pitched squawk even as his movements slowed to a stumble.  The players eyed him curiously, glancing at each other with confused expressions.  As the goblin shambled up to the group and collapsed to his knees, he finally pulled back his cloak.

“For The Great Cluck Cluck, bringer of foodz—”

The goblins shout was cut off as he exploded violently, shrapnel spraying in all directions.  The group of travelers was unable to flee in time, the metal fragments ripping through their armor and then flesh.  They fell to the ground scream and clawing at the dirt – those that survived anyway.  Most of the group had been blown away in the initial explosion.

And in the distance, Sean could make out more shrieks echoing through the smoke.  Followed by more thumps.  This time, they came from all down the frontlines

“What the hell is this?” Sean muttered.

“They’re launching goblin suicide bombers at us,” Booker muttered, a frown now curling his lips.  He let out a frustrated sigh, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out.  “This isn’t good.

“This isn’t good at all—” he repeated, his words drowned out by another series of explosions.  “It seems I underestimated Dom.  Again,” he finished with a grimace.

“No shit, but what fuck do we do?” Sean asked, seeing raid icons wink out at an alarming rate, the air filled with the sounds of screaming and the squawk of the goblins.

“We stay calm and carry out the mission,” Booker answered grimly.

When Sean turned to yell at the raid leader, he found he was missing, having vanished back into the smoke and the dense fog now rolling back into place.  Leaving Sean alone.

“Gods damn it,” the raid leader muttered.

Chapter 45 - Hands-On

The wall of smoke reached the ramparts, crashing against the wooden gate, the cloud drifting through the cracks in the timber.  Ribbons of smoke cascaded upward, stretching to the top of the wall where they rolled across the group’s ankles and streamed down into the valley at their backs.  However, the bank of smoke had slowed, no longer flowing forward as swiftly.  Dom could only assume that whatever magic had kept it streaming toward Boomtown had finally given out.

Regardless, the hobgoblins on the rampart never ceased the thud, thud, thud of their drumbeats, each heavy strike sending a puff of smoke wafting outward in thick rings.  And Adrian accompanied them, his guitar letting out a piercing whine – a rising crescendo of sound.

As the last of the suicide bombers raced through the air and disappeared into the soupy black sea that now pooled before the gates, Dom watched carefully.  He’d heard the mines detonate – a trickle at first, then a series of concussive blasts.  Without visibility on the advancing forces, he could only assume that Booker’s soldiers had walked to their death.

The suicide bombers’ shrieks were cut off as they exploded, the sea of smoke shuddering but refusing to reveal the carnage.  Dom had waited until the mines had fully detonated before sending in that second wave – not wanting to blow up his own forces.  Now those options had been expended.  The goblins would respawn, of course, but it would take time to re-outfit them again.  And supplies were already scarce.  They’d had to outfit the legion of goblins behind the gate, after all.  Whistleknot’s crafter goblins were finite, as were their materials.

“What now?” Vanessa asked.

“I’m going to go take a look,” Dom answered simply.  He turned his attention to Lauren and Walt.  “Stay on guard.”  Then to Vanessa and Willow.  “You two support me from up here until we have a sense of what’s waiting for us.”

“Going to be hard without being able to see,” the older woman shot back, flame already coiling around her staff and bleeding across her shoulders, her hair lifted on superheated air.

Dom just grunted.  “Don’t worry.  I have a solution for that.”

With those words, Dom crouched down and then jumped off the wall, the wooden beams trembling under the force of his Leap.

Dom sucked in a deep breath just before he hit the smoke.  He was going to have to rely on his Breathing Techniques – at least in the short term.  The harsh sunlight abruptly winked out, the world plunging into swirling darkness.  He hit the ground with a thunderous crash, sending a plume of dirt sweeping up into the air.

However, the impact barely affected Dom, his legs absorbing the shock effortlessly – a function of a few thousand deaths and relentless training.  He rose slowly.  He couldn’t see anything, the smoke stinging his eyes.  Red notifications flashed in the corner of his vision, Dom barely able to focus on them with the way his vision was swimming.  Although, he could guess what they said.  His vision was impaired.  He couldn’t breathe.

No shit.

He’d have to do something about that.  It was time to try something new.  He felt confident he was strong enough to pull this off now.  Lifting the water barrels while under the effects of Walt’s Gravity Well had enabled him to continue training his Strength to incredible heights.

So, Dom pulled his arms back, muscle rippling beneath his suit.  Then he whipped them forward, putting every ounce of strength he had into the blow.  His palms struck each other with tremendous force.  Under other circumstances, the force might have fractured bone and torn skin.  But his hands were a mass of scar tissue, his bones growing thicker and denser with each fracture.

Air swept away from his hands, crashing outward in an expanding ring, and pushing back the smoke in a rolling wave, fresh air suddenly sweeping down from above to fill the miniature vacuum that Dom had formed.  At the same time, a concussive boom rippled across the area, like thunder rolling across the ground.

As Dom blinked away the tears in his eyes, he could see that he had cleared a space about twenty feet in diameter, the smoke gradually trickling back in to fill that space.  And, even more interesting, a new notification hung before him.

New Active Skill:  Thunderclap

What thunderous applause!  It’s as though the gods themselves are celebrating your feat of strength!

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  20% Increased Impact Force.  1 Second Stun.

Cost:  200 Stamina

Dom swiped the notice aside.  Now wasn’t the time.

His eyes scanned the area around him, only for his brow to furrow in confusion.  The ground was pockmarked with craters and fragments of the goblins’ crudely drawn signs.  He even saw a few yellow-stained feathers lingering nearby, fragments floating on the smoke that drifted and tumbled around him in a ring.

What he didn’t see were bodies.  Human bodies, specifically.

Dom took another deep breath, crouched, and leaped again, landing with a dull thud, and smashing his hands together in another Thunderclap.  The smoke billowed outward to reveal a similar scene.  Broken dirt and the remains of the goblins.  But little else.

He repeated this again.

And again.

“The hell is going on?” Dom growled.  He had scouted a line in front of the gate, leaving patches of clear air amid the thick smoke.  To be fair, he’d seen a handful of human bodies, limbs blown apart, and crimson blood staining the dirt.  But far fewer than he’d expected.

His UI gave a ding, and Dom glanced to the corner of his vision.  He’d turned off the luck notifications – reducing it to a far less distracting ding instead of a litany of sarcastic prompts.  Regardless, his multiplier was now skyrocketing.

At the same time, shadows drifted through the smoke before him – silhouettes only slightly darker than the thick black fog.  Amber lights twinkled amid the shadows.  And as the travelers marched forward, Dom could see that they were attached to masks – obscuring their faces, the air crystals likely filtering the smoke as Lauren had reported.

There are too many, Dom thought.  Far too many.

Dozens of figures were emerging from the smoke now, swords in hand and thick metal shields raised toward Dom.  An archer at the rear released, the missile sweeping aside the smoke with a whistle as it barreled toward Dom’s head – only for him to snatch it from the air.  He snapped the arrow easily, watching the wooden fragments fall to the ground.  Yet, they didn’t turn to water or ice or disintegrate.

Not illusions then.  After training with Vanessa, Dom had become increasingly skeptical of what was real and what was fake.  Her illusions could be quite convincing.  But why did the mines go off then?  And why did the suicide bombers explode?

He didn’t have answers for any of those questions right now.

As the travelers advanced on him, Dom swiped at his UI and typed out a short message to his group.  They would know what to do.  They had trained for this – for the worst-case scenario.

And it seemed that’s what they were facing now.

Dom grimaced and crouched down.  However, this time, he didn’t plan to leap.

Instead, he rushed forward toward the line of players.  His Bull Rush struck the shield wall with incredible force, crumpling the flimsy metal and sending players flying.  Dom immediately released a Challenging Shout, the smoke rippling around him as the travelers dropped their weapons, clutching at their ears, blood leaking from their fingers.  He didn’t give them a chance to recover.  Dom was a shadowy blur.  A well-placed punch exploded one player’s skull… only to dodge a sword swipe from behind, the blade burrowing into another traveler’s chest.  Dom snatched at the attacker’s arm, using the man like a club as he smashed aside another player.

And with each death, limb snapped, ribcage crushed, and explosion of bloody mist… coins rained down upon the ground, glinting and flickering before Dom snatched them up and shoved them into his suit pocket – another favor from the Gambler.  He’d sewn one of the storage bags directly into Dom’s clothing, allowing him to store his coins.  His luck multiplier was skyrocketing, a buff icon in the corner of his vision tracking his stacks of Roll the Dice.

The skill was incredibly powerful, scaling with his Chaotic Blessing and offering additional damage and damage resistance.  The downside was that the timer was short, and the skill forced him to collect those damn coins in the middle of a fight.

He could almost hear the Gambler laughing from here.

But it made him lucky...  The archer to his right tripped as she began to fire, her arrow flying at a wild tangent, ricocheting off a shield as a fighter stumbled backward away from Dom only to lodge itself in the eye of the player that abruptly dropped out of Sneak at Dom’s back.

Moments later, Dom’s hands crashed together, and the smoke rippled outward, his pent-up breath escaping his lips and fresh air soon filling his lungs once more.  Around him were dozens of bodies – battered and beaten, their blood pooling along the ground and creating a muddy maroon lake.  A few droplets had splattered his mask, but he was otherwise unharmed, the few rips and cuts in his suit knitting themselves back together.

Yet more travelers failed to appear, a coil of uncertainty knotting in Dom’s stomach.  Had they circled around him?  Moved toward the gates?  He let out a low grunt, crouching down and preparing to leap back to his teammates—

Only to hesitate as a slow clap echoed from the smoke to Dom’s right, and he turned to see someone stepping through the mist, hanging along the edges of the circle – his features barely visible.

“Impressive.  Finally seeing you in person… it’s terrifying.”

“Booker,” Dom growled.  He’d recognize that voice anywhere.  “And here I was hoping to run into Sean.  He and I have a score to settle.”

“So, I’ve heard,” Booker quipped, refusing to step into the clear space around Dom, smoke still coiling and tumbling across the guild leader’s body and obscuring him from sight.  Even more strangely, Dom didn’t detect the telltale flicker of amber energy that would denote a mask, and his luck had spiked again.  Something was wrong here.

“But alas,” the guild leader continued in a woeful voice, “you’ll have to settle for me.”

Dom slowly rose back to his feet, his fingers twitching as he sent another update to his team.  The others could defend the gate.  He’d trained them for this.  He was confident they were capable of handling <The Jackals>.  And if he could take out Booker – that would cut the head off the snake.  That was a tactical advantage that Dom couldn’t afford to pass up.

“You think you can take me?” Dom asked evenly, body loose and ready.

Booker cocked his head.  “I don’t know.  But I’m curious to find out.”

***

The rest of <Death and Taxes> stood upon the ramparts, watching the clear holes that Dom had punched in the sea of smoke.  The broken dirt and craters were just barely visible from here.  They didn’t hear any noise but for Adrian’s melody.  Meanwhile, the goblins grumbled and growled and roared their excitement from behind the gates, stomping along in time with the music and the thunderous beats of the drums.

Their chat log dinged in unison.

“Looks like we didn’t manage to take them out, and now Dom’s getting to have all the fun,” Lauren grumbled, waving at the air to dismiss her chat window.

“You surprised?  Stupid goblins…” Vanessa grumbled.

Walt cocked his head, frowning.  “Or smart opponents?”

They all quieted at that.

“Either way, you heard the boss,” Willow said.  “We need to get to work.  Smiles is tied down with Booker, but there’s likely still hundreds of enemies out there – most of them making their way here.  We need to hold them back.  We’ll use the goblins as a last resort.”

Lauren’s guns appeared in hand with a crackle of energy.  “Finally!  Some action!”

“Except for you and Tombs,” Willow sighed.  This earned her a relieved huff from the earth mage.  “Your instructions are still the same.  Stay here.  Guard the gate.  Wait for orders.”

Lauren glared at the older woman but was the first to break their staring contest.

“If it’s any consolation, I expect you’ll get to see some action before long,” Vanessa offered, not unkindly.  Her wand was in hand, sapphire energy swirling around the crystal embedded in the top.

Vanessa and the fire mage shared a look.  “I get the gate, and you slow them down?”  Willow asked, waving at the smoke.

“Can you handle that alone?” Vanessa shot back, her tone challenging.

Willow just laughed.  “You all didn’t name me Blaze for nothing.”

Flames swept along her staff and spread across her body before condensing into a massive ball of flame that launched down toward the base of the gate – only for Willow to step off the ramparts after it, using the superheated air to slow her descent.  The overcharged Fireball blasted against the ground at the base of the gate, sweeping aside the smoke and creating a clear pocket of air, revealing dozens of <The Jackals> surging toward the gates.

Willow landed in the center of that clearing, flames licking along her body and searing her skin, only for it to regenerate moments later.  With a wave of her free hand, those fires cascaded outward, forming a sustained Fire Nova that stretched out to the very edge of her control range.  Her hair immediately ignited and continued to burn as the fibers wound themselves back together under the effects of her health regeneration.

It had taken her hundreds of deaths to master this synergy.

“Well, hello there.  My name is Blaze,” she spoke to the travelers – who had slowed their charge in the face of this flaming mage, their eyes wide.

Blaze stepped forward slowly, her pace languid.  A foolhardy player rushed toward her, barreling into the flames.  He must have thought the heat wasn’t that bad – not if Blaze could withstand it.  Yet he immediately dropped to his knees, his mail heating and turning a dull red and coils of smoke drifting away from his body as his skin burned away.  His tortured screams soon filled the air.  Blaze never slowed in her steady march forward – that pale white mask smiling while the traveler burned.

“Holy shit,” Walt murmured from the wall as he watched the players scurry backward.  A few tried to pelt her with arrows and blades, only for the materials to melt long before they reached her, ash raining to the ground.  “That’s fucking nuts.”

“She can’t sustain it forever,” Vanessa observed.  “Eventually, she’ll run out of health or mana or both.  You’ll need to hold the travelers back during her respawn.”  They both nodded.

“Speaking of which,” Vanessa continued.  She glanced at Adrian.  “Hey, maestro, we need a new song!” she shouted over the roar of his guitar.

The bard just nodded, and the melody shifted.  The harsh, up-beat tempo began to slow as he plucked a more harmonious melody from his guitar’s strings.  That sound drifted down to the goblins, their roars quieting and many looking on in wonder as their skin changed color, turning a deep, sapphire blue that twinkled softly amid the tendrils of smoke.

A new song.  Mana Repose.  The effect dramatically increased the mana regeneration of anyone within earshot.  Not much help for the goblins, but for Vanessa and Willow – a godsend.  Vanessa could feel excitement humming in her veins now.  With that buff, she’d be able to push the effects of her training to the limit.

“What about you?” Walt asked – his voice still sounding worried.

Vanessa just huffed.  “I can’t let Fire Granny out do me, can I?”

Then the water mage’s magic cascaded out across the sea of smoke.  Fragments of ice and water formed in mid-air, condensing down into a series of distinctly humanoid shapes that floated above the dark gray sea.  They were all familiar.  A hulking figure robed in a neatly tailored suit and pale, smiling mask.  Vanessa kept casting, layering spells on top of the Dom-clones, intricate runic patterns sinking into their bodies before vanishing.

Her work complete, those figures descended into the pockets of air Dom had carved in the ocean of smoke, landing with a realistic thump – the water and ice giving them weight and mass.  The clones of Dom rose even as the players around him slowed their charge, looking toward his hulking figure in surprise.  The clones didn’t speak, just raised a hand in unison and gestured for the travelers to come at them.

And they did.  The masked soldiers raced toward Dom, piling on and pressing in.  Each one wanted to be the player that took down Smiles – that finally avenged their guild.  All the while, those clones stood still.  Still smiling, even when swords cut into their bodies.  However, no blood leaked from the wounds.  The travelers were slow to notice, and by the time one called out in alarm, it was far, far too late.  The clones suddenly burst apart in a cascade of icy spikes that impaled dozens of players at once, skewering skin and crimson blood staining the icy water before dripping to the ground, pooling there in lakes of blood.

“Geez,” Lauren muttered.

Vanessa – Queen – just laughed, her mana flashing again as Adrian’s song helped replenish her pool.  With another quick gesture, her own skin rippled and changed.  Moments later, one of the <The Jackals> stood on the wall wearing thick mail and face covered in a glowing amber mask.  Vanessa gave a short wave to the others before stepping off the wall, ice slithering into the smoke and the ice mage skating down that narrow ramp with ease – a function of her Dexterity training.

She would filter among the ranks of her enemy now, killing them amid the smoke.

And buying Blaze time – keeping them from fully swamping the fire mage.

That left Lauren and Walt standing on the wall, watching the carnage unfold before them – players burning alive, leaving only seared black skeletons.  Screams echoing from the dark sea before them as Queen hunted down the players, the travelers unable to tell friend from foe and beginning to strike at anything that moved amid the smoke.

“Uh, do you think maybe this is unfair?” Lauren asked Walt.

He just shook his head.  “Maybe.”

Chapter 46 - Walk in the Park

Dom rushed at Booker amid the smoke.  He surged forward so fast that his bones creaked and snapped.  There was no way Booker could possibly dodge out of the way in time, yet Dom stumbled as his hands passed straight through the guild leader’s body.  Booker’s form broke apart into wispy gray fragments before disintegrating back into that misty sea.  Dom slid to a stop in the depths of the smoke.

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” Booker asked, clicking his tongue.

“Illusions,” Dom growled.  Suddenly, the pieces were beginning to come together.  Booker must be an air mage – one specializing in controlling smoke, which explained the mines… and the goblins.  “You discovered the mines and detonated them remotely,” Dom murmured.  “Then you conjured these shadow clones to lure the suicide bombers into exploding.”

A brief silence met those words.  “Huh, you never cease to surprise me.  It would have taken others much longer to figure out my countermove.”

“You must be working with morons then,” Dom grunted back.

“Can’t exactly argue with you there,” Booker quipped with a chuckle.  “But my skillset is actually more… flexible than simply crafting illusions.”

Dom felt a searing line of pain arc down his back.  He whirled, only to find more soupy gray smoke.  He touched at his back, his fingers coming away slick with blood.  Slashing damage.  So, his resistances hadn’t been that effective.  But how the hell had Booker attacked him?  Condensed air, maybe?  Maybe the smoke itself?  That was going to make it incredibly difficult to see the attacks coming.

Dom frowned, smashing his hands together in another Thunderclap that shoved the smoke back.  However, there was no sign of the guild leader, and it was soon billowing toward him again, moving faster than before.  No doubt that also showcased Booker’s abilities at work.

“Not fast enough,” Booker observed.  “I already know the range of that ability.”

Dom stretched his neck.  He needed to pinpoint the guild leader’s location if he was going to take him out.  He needed to keep him talking.

“If you acknowledge your teammates are idiots, then why are you doing this?” Dom asked, his limbs loose but ready as he eyed the smoke around him.

“You know why.  I want to escape Aislen,” Booker explained.

That time, his voice had come from behind Dom.  Either he was moving fast or…

Dom just snorted.  “Judging from even this short exchange, it’s clear you could leave any time you wanted.  Besides, from what I’ve heard, you rarely join the raid groups yourself.  Which means you have to be leveling or training on your own somehow, right?”

A half dozen shadowy silhouettes appeared among the smoke, hovering there in the fog.  Booker spoke up again, his voice coming from another side of the clearing.  “Perhaps.  But leave alone?  With nothing?” he asked.  “What sort of life is that?”

Dom shook his head.  “Life?  You know this is a game, right?”

“No… no, I’m not sure I do,” Booker replied, his voice suddenly heavy.  His position had shifted again.  Yeah, he was definitely throwing his voice – another air mage trick.  Damn it.

“And I think you of all people would relate,” the raid leader continued.  “You aren’t treating this as just another game.  You haven’t from the very beginning.  You were one of the few who actually listened to my speech, even if you didn’t heed my warning about the jungle.

“We should be working together,” Booker offered.

Dom laughed – actually laughed.  “After what Sean did to me?  To my friends?  You’re kidding, right?  I watched him torture Adrian and Wingman.”

Booker huffed out a sigh.  “That was… unfortunate.  Sean didn’t follow my instructions.”

“Yet you knew he might try to fuck me over,” Dom demanded.  “How could you not?  Or are you really trying to say you didn’t know he was a sociopath?”

“I’m not.  Sean has his uses.  Especially here,” Booker retorted, sounding defensive.  “But my time and attention were stretched thin.  I also couldn’t afford to reveal my abilities if you proved unamenable to my offer.  The risk was too great.”

“Well, then you got what you paid for,” Dom shot back.  “You’ve exploited the other travelers.  Suppressed the local residents.  All in pursuit of this bullshit dream.  But at its core, you’re just looking out for yourself.  You can wrap all of that crap in some propaganda about saving these players.  But you’ve as much as admitted it at this point.  You just want the money and the power.”

Silence met that statement.  Dom had been eyeing the smoke, looking for an opening where he could charge – which was why he wasn’t expecting Booker to go on the offensive.  His shadow clones surged from the smoke, their forms wispy and ephemeral – lacking features.  They glided toward Dom with ease.

He punched at one, only for his fist to flow through the clone’s body.  It immediately pivoted, and its arm condensed down to a razor-sharp line, cutting into Dom’s bicep and leaving a bloody trail in its wake.  The others used the opening to slice at him.  The attacks weren’t random.  Booker was aiming for key muscles and tendons.  His hamstrings.  The tendons of his biceps.  His ankles.  Dom dropped to the ground, his legs suddenly refusing to respond…

Only to heave in a breath and release a Challenging Shout.  The force of the blast blew apart the shadow clones into wisps of smoke.  That was interesting.  The vibration must destabilize them.  Or possibly Booker couldn’t sustain that many against that sort of sonic attack.

Dom’s health regeneration had already kicked in, and he slowly pushed himself back to his feet, his suit stitching itself together rapidly.

“You’re tough,” Booker observed.  “But, unfortunately, you’re also a hypocrite.”

“How so?” Dom retorted, his brow furrowing.

“Can you even see the rest of us down here from your pedestal?  Or perhaps it’s a tree branch since you fancy yourself some sort of digital Tarzan.  I can acknowledge I’ve had to do some shitty things but for a greater goal.  I did what was necessary – for myself and for others.

“But what about you?  Do you see yourself as some sort of savior?  Freeing the residents and travelers from my oppression?  What about those other travelers – the members of <The Jackals>?  You didn’t just steal from me.  You stole from them too.  Their hard work.  Their blood, sweat, and toil.  A modern-day Robin Hood, who steals from the poor to give to himself, huh?

“And let’s say you win – you destroy our guild.  What then?  What about all of those people stranded in Aislen, residents and travelers alike?”  Booker huffed out a laugh.  “You’re just trading one group’s happiness for another.  What makes them more deserving?”

He paused.  “Or better yet… what makes you more deserving.  You want to talk about my motivations.  But what about you?  I know what it’s like to struggle for the sort of power you wield – that I wield.  I’d bet my fucking life there’s more to all of this than some self-righteous quest.  There’s something in it for you too, isn’t there?”

Dom grimaced, grinding his teeth.  There was a kernel truth to Booker’s words.

Yet, it didn’t change the outcome – the necessity of his own actions.

“I don’t have a choice,” Dom ground out finally.

A sigh.  “And neither do I,” Booker replied.  “Which I suppose leaves us at an impasse.  Unfortunate,” the guild leader continued, “I really didn’t want to destroy the goblins’ village… or you.”

Dom huffed out a laugh at that.  “You have a strong skillset, but I don’t see any way for you to actually defeat me here.  You can’t muster enough damage to offset my health regeneration, and I can keep your clones pinned down with Challenging Shout.”

Booker’s voice sprang up from the other side of the clearing.  “Who said anything about defeating you?  That isn’t your weakness, Dom.  I just have to keep you busy.  Wait until my team washes this place clean of that green filth.”

Dom’s brow furrowed at that.  His phrasing was… odd.  They’d been worried about how Booker planned to attack their infrastructure – since a direct assault was clearly futile.  The mines would be difficult to attack directly.  And burning the forest was only temporary.  But Booker’s word choice was telling.  A flood, huh?  Water—

His eyes widened.  Fuck.  It had been sitting in front of him the whole time.  A way for Booker to kill multiple birds with one stone – a multi-pronged attack.  Just like blowing the entrances to the goblin villages.  And burning the forest.  And this damn smoke.

Dom immediately settled into a crouch and prepared to Leap only for a shadow to cut at his ankle, pitching him off balance.  Dom winced through the pain.  He rolled to the side, clapping his hands to clear some space – waiting the precious few seconds for his ankle to heal.  Then he launched again, racing up into the air, only to be pulled up short, something whipping him back toward the ground.  He looked down to find a thick ribbon of smoke coiled around his ankle – almost like shadowy elastic.

He hit the ground again with a thump, glaring into the smoke.

“You see now, right?” Booker asked calmly.  “This is checkmate.  You can’t afford to run through the smoke, or I’ll cut you down.  You can’t clap or shout continuously.  There are a few seconds of delay needed to wind up your attacks.  And I’m not limited simply to clones and slashing attacks.  I can form anything from my smoke.  It’s quite adaptable in that way.

“In short, you’re trapped here.”

Dom grimaced.  He was right.

He might eventually be able to force his way through the smoke by chaining Challenging Shout and Thunderclap.  But his stamina likely wouldn’t allow him to make it all the way back to the gate – especially not now that Adrian had changed his song.  And, more importantly, that would burn up precious time.

Time, he didn’t have.

He could die and respawn.  But Dom had noticed that none of Booker’s guildmates had appeared through the smoke, despite the sounds of battle raging in the distance.  Likely, he’d dropped a raid marker on their location and relayed orders to avoid this position.

Dom could try to kill himself… but with just his bare hands?  That was a tall feat.  He could possibly choke himself out, but Booker would almost certainly cut the tendons in his arms long before he ran out of oxygen – which would leave Dom with no way to counter with his hands and lungs occupied.  Even ripping off one of his own limbs might not be enough.  His Bleed Resistance was already quite high at this point.  He’d likely just incapacitate himself further.

And if he called for help, Dom would be leaving the gate undefended.

Booker had used Dom’s resilience against him.

Yet, Dom refused to back down.  He rose to his feet, stretching his neck and arms to the crackle of bone.  “You’re right.  This was well played.  Unfortunately for you, though, I’m not alone,” Dom shot back.  Clones were already appearing among the mists as he spoke, beginning to race toward him and put pressure on Dom.

His palms smashed together in a Thunderclap.  That gave him enough space to pull up his chat log before the mists pressed in upon him.

A Challenging Shout followed immediately.  It wouldn’t be enough to escape—

But it bought him enough time to type out a single word.

Then the smoke was on him again, clones spinning and dancing within its depths they attacked him in a relentless wave.  Apparently, Booker was done talking.

Dom would just have to hope the others understood his message.

***

“This is soooo boring,” Lauren drawled, lounging along the edge of the rampart.  She aimed her pistol and lazily pulled the trigger.  The bullet penetrated the skull of another idiot traveler trying to scale the gate.  The soldier dropped from the wall, plunging into the depths of the smoke.

Walt channeled a Gravity Well, and a hail of missiles aimed at Adrian dropped down into the mists that swirled below, followed by screams of pain.  They’d both noticed that none of these players were exceptional casters, mostly using magic to buff their own abilities – if any at all.

“I don’t really mind,” Walt muttered, hovering below the rampart and his back to the wall.  He’d decided it was the safest place to sit to avoid any stray missiles.

Lauren glared down at him.  “Of course, you don’t.  We get stuck with the shit work, and you just grin and bear it?  Do you ever get upset?  Seriously, what’s fucking wrong with you?  If I shot you right now, would you even get angry?”

Walt grimaced, his eyes dropping to the swirling gray mists below.

In a flash, Lauren was beside him, a cool, metal barrel pressed to his temple.  “I know you can fight back.  I’ve seen it.  When you get desperate, at least.”

Walt just looked up at her, a mournful expression in his eyes as Adrian’s guitar whined nearby, the drums beat out a thunderous staccato rhythm, and screams rose from the black sea below the ramparts – almost certainly the work of Vanessa and Willow.  He couldn’t really rebut Lauren.  Even after Dom’s training, he still felt… useless.  Only when he was pressed to his limit did a flip seem to switch and his hesitation vanish.

Just like with the Rat King.

“I haven’t exactly had a great time of it.  In life… that is.  You’re just a kid.  I don’t think you’d understand,” Walt muttered finally, looking away.

Lauren pulled back on her pistol.  She sniffed.  “You overheard that crap with Willow and Vanessa back in the arena, right?”  Walt just grunted.  “Hate to break it to you, but we’re all broken toys here.  No sane fucking person would go through that bullshit training.”

Walt just let out an incredulous snort.  “Yeah, sure.”

“You don’t believe me?  I’m not any better.  You ever wonder how a 14-year-old girl can afford to play this damn game all day long?” Lauren demanded.

He looked up in surprise.  Honestly, the thought had never occurred to him.

“I got expelled.  Beat the shit out of some kid.”  She saw Walt’s eyes widen.  “Oh, don’t look at me like that.  Asshole had it coming.  He was fucking with another girl in my class – torturing her more like.  School didn’t see it that way, though.  And neither did my parents.  Prolly because his dumbass tripped, and he brained himself.  Ended up in the hospital.”

She twirled her pistol, looking at the metal.  “His parents pressed charges, and I’ve now got a criminal record,” she growled.  “Which has made it impossible to get into any other school.  No one wants the troubled girl.  System wrote me the hell off at 14 because some douchebag’s karma caught up with him,” she explained, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

“Jesus,” Walt muttered, shaking his head.  “And your parents think this is the best way to deal with your aggression?” he asked in confusion, eyeing the pistols in her hands.

Lauren just shrugged, and her smirk reappeared in a flash.  “They figure it’ll help me blow off some steam.  Maybe meet other people – positive influence and all that,” she offered with a wry chuckle, waving at the ground below the ramparts where Willow was laughing maniacally, her hair aflame and piles of blackened skeletons building up around her in a circle.

“Yeah, that might have been shortsighted,” Walt murmured.

Lauren shrugged.  “Whatever.  I’m me.  Anyone who has a problem with that can go fuck themselves.  And if that doesn’t work, well, a bullet usually does the trick.  At least in here, I don’t have to worry about any fuckheads ruining my life,” she observed, blasting away another player trying to climb the gates.  “At least, other than that Master Edgelord Jason.”

“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Walt said with a sigh.

Lauren just shrugged, side-eyeing him – clearly waiting.

Walt swallowed hard and then, “My parents died when I was young.  Don’t even remember them.  Jumped from one foster home to another.  You want to talk about assholes?  Well, most of those people were only looking out for themselves.  They didn’t give two shits about the kids – we were just monthly paychecks,” he said, his tone defeated.

Walt shook his head, not quite able to look at Lauren.

This wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but now that he’d started… well, the words just seemed to keep flowing out of him.  Maybe it was the hundreds of deaths.  The fact that some tween had just lectured him about his life choices.  Or maybe it was the absurdity of their situation – guarding a wannabe rockstar bard during a full-fledged war while having some deep-ass conversation about their lives.  Who the hell knew…?

“We didn’t have anything.  I didn’t have anything,” Walt amended bitterly.  “Clothes.  Books.  Games.  Fuck it… even food.  And I was never big enough or strong enough to take the other kids head-on.”

He raised his eyes to meet Lauren’s then.  “So, I learned how to take it – to survive.  That’s all I’m good at.  Stealing shit and running away.  I ended up emptying my so-called parents’ bank account at 16 and took off on my own.  Figured they owed me a few years’ worth of checks.  Been that way ever since, bouncing from one place to another.”

The girl’s eyes had widened slightly.  “How are you even playing this—”  She cut herself off abruptly as the realization settled in her mind.  “Oh… you stole a copy.”

Walt nodded.  “And I’m leeching internet from some rich fuck.  Dug out the fiber optic cable and tapped directly into their line.  Amazing what you can learn to do with a wi-fi connection,” he replied to her unspoken question.  “I tinkered with the security cameras, and I’ve been living in a tent on their property.  That’s how large it is… and how oblivious those people are.  They haven’t noticed in weeks.”

The earth mage shook his head, idly knocking a few missiles out of the air again.

“Well, shit.  That’s a hell of a story.  But honestly, maybe Dom was right.  You’re kind of a badass,” Lauren said finally, a chuckle escaping her lips.

Walt’s eyes snapped up at her to find her eyes shining with excitement, her chin perched on her open palms as she stared at him – that mask just smiling creepily all the while.

“What?” Lauren demanded in the face of his shocked reaction.  “I’ve dreamed of running away and doing my own thing.  But I’m too chickenshit.  You, though?  You just did it.  Fuck and it’s working!  And with the money you might make in this guild… well, maybe you could afford a better tent,” she taunted with a grin.

“Because stealing shit is going to translate really well here.  There are no rules.  No cops.  No asshole adults telling you what to do.  You want that shit?  Then go ahead and fucking take it!”  Lauren insisted, lightning crackling along her body now.  “And now you got peeps behind you – somebody to back your ass up.  Like me.”

Walt could only stare back at her, his thoughts wheeling.

“You just gotta find your reason to fight,” Lauren observed, staring off over the wall.  “If the sweet, sweet loot ain’t enough, then find something else.  If you do, then this entire world could be ours,” she explained, waving at the screaming sea of darkness below them.

Walt was saved from answering as his UI dinged, his chat log popping open in the corner of his UI.  A glance was enough to confirm the message was from Dom.  Just one word.

“What the hell does he mean with this shit?” Lauren muttered.  “Water?”

Walt shook his head slowly.  Dom didn’t do anything by accident, though.  And he hadn’t returned, his health bar occasionally dropping in the corner of Walt’s UI – Dom’s health regeneration swiftly repairing the damage.  That meant he was fighting someone.  Or many someones if they were actually managing to hurt him.  These grunts weren’t worth much.  Maybe he hadn’t had time to explain himself fully…

The wail of Adrian’s guitar abruptly subsided, and the pair looked up to find the bard watching them.  “You get Dom’s message too?” he asked.

They nodded.

“Except it makes no sense,” Lauren grumbled.

“Why youz stop the muzak!?” Truggle roared as he stumbled up onto the ramparts.  He tried to drink from one of the mugs still strapped to his hands, and looked confused when nothing came out.  He’d long since drained the tankard.

“Geez, watch it,” Lauren snapped as the hobgoblin stumbled into her, flashing out of the way to avoid being crushed against the side of the rampart.

Truggle just shrugged, still staring mournfully into his mug.

“Wait… where did you get that beer, Truggle?” Walt asked suddenly.  Both Lauren and Adrian looked at him in surprise.

“Barrelz,” the hobgoblin answered shortly, pointing at the empty casks piled up along the inside of the ramparts, goblins brawling over the meager remains now.  Their so-called “army” looked pretty damn wasted at this point.

“Yeah, this isn’t getting anywhere,” Adrian sighed.  “Damn goblins.”

Although, Lauren’s brow was furrowed now.  “Nah, I think Tombs here is on to something.  When I was on my way here, I got a little… sticky?  Blood and such,” she explained when the other two shot her a questioning look.  “I spotted a lake on the mountain above the village and stopped there to wash off.”

Adrian cocked his head.  He turned back to Truggle.  “Is there a stream or waterfall at the back of the village?  Is that where you make the beer?”

The goblin leader thought long and hard about that one.

Seconds ticked past.

Then a full minute.

“I think you broke him,” Walt said.

“Clearz *hiccup* b-beer fallz,” the hobgoblin slurred, nodding enthusiastically.

“That’s not—” Adrian cut himself off with, his shoulders slumping.  Lauren just patted him on the shoulder.  “Why do I even bother?”

“There must be a waterfall where the goblins get their water,” Walt said.  “Just like I’ve been stealing—”  He cut himself off, Lauren shooting him a knowing look.  “Anyway, that lake must feed the falls,” he explained.  “Maybe some sort of natural spring there?”

“Okay…” Adrian answered, shaking his head.  He eyed the gates.  Without his buff, Blaze and Queen would likely fall soon.  He turned back to Truggle, slapping him hard as his head lolled.  The hobgoblin focused on him blearily.

“I need you to go down there and open the gates,” Adrian explained slowly.

Truggle stared back blankly.

“Open.  Gate.  Kill hoomanz.  Got it?”

The hobgoblin’s eyes suddenly lit up.  “Gotz it!” he roared, rising to his feet, only to stumble and pitch backward over the rampart, falling a few dozen feet and striking the ground below with a heavy thud.

“Is… is he…?” Walt began, peering over the edge.

“He’s fine,” Adrian replied, rubbing at his temple now.  “I think.  Anyway, that should buy us some time for Blaze and Queen to respawn.”

The bard’s eyes shot to Lauren and Walt.

“Oh, no.  I hate that look,” Walt grumbled.

“You two need to go check on that lake.  I don’t know what’s going on, but that’s our best guess based on what Dom gave us, and we don’t have time to dick around,” Adrian explained.

“Are you sure?  I mean we may need to protect you—” Walt began, noticing the excited gleam in Lauren’s eyes now and the way her lightning was crackling.

“You two have the best mobility,” Adrian cut him off.  “That’s why Dom left you here.  I’ll be more than fine.  Get going.  Now!” the bard demanded.

“You heard the man.  C’mon Tombs,” Lauren chirped happily.

Walt winced as he felt a tickle of electricity at his back, recoiling away from Lauren’s touch.  “Oh, don’t be a big baby,” she challenged him.  “This isn’t so bad.”

“It feels like I’m riding a rollercoaster while getting electrocuted,” Walt shot back.

Lauren just laughed.  “I’d go to that theme park.”

As she trailed off, she vanished, reappearing to Walt’s side.  He managed to dodge her first couple swipes at him… but he missed the third, her hand landing on his shoulder.

“Fuck—” Walt muttered.

Then electricity coursed down Lauren’s arm, and they vanished in a flash of lightning.  Adrian could make out intermittent blasts of energy throughout the goblin camp as the pair made their way across the valley and up toward the lake.  He’d just have to trust that they could handle it.  Walt might be a nervous, handwringing sort, but Dom trusted him.  And the bard had seen what happened when he put on the mask – when Tombs finally took over.  He could be scary as hell.

And besides, the pair had a few… other surprises up their sleeve.

Chapter 47 - Vendetta

Adrian felt the ramparts below him rumble as the hobgoblins shoved the gates wide.  The horde of drunken greenskins let out rage-filled roars as they stumbled through the opening in a booze-enhanced stampede.  It wasn’t a second too late as Blaze’s mana finally gave out, and her icon winked gray.  A glance at his UI confirmed that Queen would soon follow.  But it wasn’t that big of a deal.  They would respawn in the cave in just a few minutes, and the goblins could hold off <The Jackals> until then.

Adrian sighed as he heard another crackle of electricity behind him.  “Really, Tombs, you need to get over—” he began, cutting himself off as he turned to find a familiar face leering at him, twin curved swords held in hand.

“Finally, I thought that pair would never give me a chance to catch you alone,” Sean growled, lightning arcing down the length of his swords and lashing between them.

“Ahh, that’s so sweet that you’ve been thinking about me,” Adrian quipped, getting over his surprise quickly.  He should have expected as much.  “But I really don’t have time for this—”

Sean rushed him in a flash of light, his body a blurring forward.  Adrian pivoted to the side… only to find that Sean had disappeared.  He emerged at Adrian’s back with a sizzle of electricity and his sword swiping through the air.  The bard’s eyes widened, but he’d spent plenty of time sparring against Lauren.  And in contrast to that insane girl, Sean’s movements were tame and predictable.  For example, he still insisted on staying on the ground.

A whistle escaped Adrian’s lips, a yellow haze settling across the bard’s skin as he twirled out of the way.  Sean’s swords spun and sliced around him.  Each motion left a crackling white afterimage in its wake as the raid leader continued channeling mana across his body to enhance his own movements.  Moments later, they parted – Adrian patting at his tunic where a coil of smoke drifted away from the fabric.

“Damn it, I liked this shirt,” Adrian complained.

Sean glared at him, letting out a low growl as he raced forward again.  However, the bard just started whistling the same tune as he dodged, dipped, spun, and weaved around the rampart with unnatural grace.  Sean teleported all along the length of the wall, lightning arcing and crackling through the air wildly now as he frantically tried to hit the bard.  Unfortunately for him, Adrian had spent even more time training Dexterity – Dom insisting it would pay off eventually.

He hated to admit it, but Dom had been right.  Sean’s movements felt… slow.

They parted again, Sean’s chest heaving.

“Fucking hold still.  You can’t win like this,” the raid leader growled.

“I’m not really trying to, though,” Adrian replied in a bored voice and a wave of his hand.  “There’s someone else who’s called dibs on you.”  Even as he spoke, something thudded down against the rampart, the entire wall shaking and creaking.

Sean whirled to find Wingman standing behind him, her one good eye glaring at the man.  She had put on a bit more bulk lately, her head now reaching Adrian’s waist.

“Really?” Sean laughed.  “An oversized chicken?  I guess I was feeling hungry.  You want a rematch, chicken nugget?”

Wingman let out a piercing shriek that vibrated the air.

“She really doesn’t like that name,” Adrian observed.  “Or comments about her figure.  She’s just naturally big-boned…”

He trailed off as Wingman suddenly ballooned in size, expanding swiftly, her feathers filling out to cover her new bulk.  She kept growing until she towered almost six feet in the air.  Thick muscle rippled down her chest, and a flap of her wings sent wind gusting out to either side of the ramparts, causing the smoke to swirl violently.

“What the fuck?” Sean muttered, backing up a step.

For his part, Adrian wasn’t surprised.  Dom had spent plenty of time working with the chicken too.  And through extensive trial and error, he’d discovered how at least some of her abilities worked.  For example, Nip and Tuck allowed her to compress her mass.  A fun side effect was that she maintained the same density even in her smaller form.

Sean let out a growl and shot forward, slashing with both of his swords.  Unlike Adrian, Wingman didn’t bother to dodge.  She just let the raid leader hit her, his swords sinking into her feathers but barely touching her skin.  Another interesting effect they’d noticed…  As she continued maturing, those feathers had begun acting like a sort of armor.  They’d determined that the easiest way to hurt her was to burn them off first.  There was apparently a reason why the creatures of the jungle preferred to kill Battle Chickens early.

The raid leader’s eyes went wide as he looked up at Wingman.

She suddenly lashed forward with her beak, slicing cleanly through each of his biceps… his swords rattling against the ramparts a moment later as he lost his ability to grip the weapons.  Sean was backpedaling now, lightning flickering across his body as he tried to run.  He turned to the wall, and his mana surged… only to peter out.

“Oh, and just a personal note,” Adrian drawled, “you should learn to conserve your mana better… really wasteful if you ask me.  And it makes it hard to escape if you need to.”

Another blur of motion and Wingman had cut through the tendons in the back of Sean’s legs, the raid leader sinking to the ground, unable to move or fight back.  A massive, clawed foot suddenly landed on his back with a crunch of bone.  Then Wingman let out a piercing cry of victory, her shriek echoing across the battle raging below the gates – goblins occasionally turning to answer her call without any regard for their own safety.

Wingman snapped at the raid leader again… however, her strike was more precise this time.  She snipped a single finger, crunching it with her beak and then taking her time swallowing it down.  Sean let out a scream of pain, staring at his hand in horror, blood leaking onto the wooden rampart and pooling there.

Adrian stooped down to meet his gaze.  “Fucking hurts, doesn’t it?  Like I said, Wingman here has dibs.  You bet your ass that she remembers losing her eye.”

“This… this is torture.  A gamemaster—” Sean ground out, tears beading in his eyes.  Lightning crackled feebly around his body but had little effect on Wingman’s scaled foot.

Adrian clucked his tongue as he raised a finger.  “Ahh, but as you were correct to point out before, this actually isn’t against the rules.”  He pointed to Wingman.  “Resident.”  He pointed at Sean.  “Traveler.  So, this is outside the gamemasters’ jurisdiction.”

Sean’s eyes were wide now as the reality of his situation fully sunk in.

“Ahh, and there it is.  See, Wingman here has a hell of an appetite.  And she likes to play with her food,” Adrian explained, an answering squawk coming from the chicken.  “I suspect you’ll both have a lot of fun.  But unfortunately, I can’t stay.  Work to do and all that.”

“No… don’t—” Sean’s voice was cut off by another scream as Wingman clipped a second finger, swallowing it down, and more blood leaked across the rampart.

Adrian just sniffed.  “Maybe next time you shouldn’t mess with a member of <Death and Taxes>,” he observed, his pale, impassive white mask staring back at Sean with a frozen smile.

Then Adrian turned to the ramparts, eyeing the sea of smoke.  Maybe this sort of act might have bothered him before, the simpering, weaker version of himself that had originally logged into AO all of those days and weeks ago.  But this place – this world – had hardened him.  As had its occupants.  He was Bard now, and that man didn’t give a shit.

Plus, he’d told Sean the truth.

Adrian’s gaze skimmed to Dom’s icon in the corner of his vision.  He had work to do.

With that thought, he stepped off the rampart and plunged into the darkness and chaos that swirled around its base, ignoring the screams that echoed across the ramparts at his back.

***

“Oh, gods, why?” Walt moaned as he collapsed to his hands and knees, resisting the urge to kiss the soil – sweet, blessed solid-fucking-ground.  His stomach heaved, but he resisted the urge to vomit.  Not that this did anything to blunt the occasional muscle spasm, electricity still sporadically arcing between his fingers and into the ground.

“You’re a big baby.  It’s really not so bad,” Lauren replied, hand resting on her pistol and her eyes scanning the top of the mountain.  A large lake lingered before them, the bank surrounded by thick tree cover, a river running, crashing down into the valley below with a dull, incessant roar.  At a guess, they were about 100 feet from the cliff edge.

Truggle’s “clear beer fallz,” no doubt.

“Besides, you should really keep your guard up,” Lauren continued.  “We don’t know what might be waiting for us up here.”

“Funny you should say that,” another voice spoke up.

Suddenly, more than a dozen figures stepped out of the shadows of the tree cover.  As Walt looked up, swallowing hard against the bile at the back of his throat, he could see more were perched on the limbs above them, hopping between the branches with telltale gusts of wind.

Air mages?  He thought to himself.  They all carried either wands or staves, which certainly marked them as casters.  Perhaps they’d been chosen for their mobility, allowing them to skirt around the edges of the valley and scale the cliffs with ease.

The voice was attached to a young woman who paced through the trees with casual steps, orbs of flickering electricity circling around her in a casual orbit.  The lightning occasionally lanced toward the nearby trunks and left dark furrows in their wake.  Yet Walt noticed that none of that energy seemed to affect the woman.

“You must be two of Dom’s new recruits,” the woman drawled.  Her eyes flicked to Walt, where he was doubled over on the ground before switching to Lauren, running up her petite frame.  “I have to admit – masks aside – you aren’t much to look at.  Is Dom really so desperate that he’s recruiting children?” she asked with a shake of her head.

“This child is going to put a bullet between your eyes,” Lauren replied calmly, palms resting on her pistols now.

The woman raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  You seem to be outnumbered and surrounded,” she offered, waving at the branches.  “Does my future killer have a name?”

Lauren snorted.  “Pewpew.”  This earned her a few laughs from the group of mages, the woman before her smiling widely.

“Ahh, that’s cute.  Well, my name is Nova.”  Her eyes skimmed to the side – likely reviewing a system notice or her chat log.  “I’m sorry we can’t chat longer, but we’re on a tight schedule.  I’m sure you understand,” she said, her lightning orbs flashing brighter now.

Lauren whispered to Walt under her breath.  “Scout the area, Tombs.  Figure out what the hell they’re doing up here.  I’ll keep ‘em busy.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply.

Suddenly, Lauren vanished in a crackle of energy, a scream erupting from the treetops.  Walt looked up just in time to see her appear upside down and putting a bullet straight through one mage’s skull, his body striking the ground with a wet squelch only moments later.  Then chaos erupted, lightning ripping through the trees—

As well as directly at Walt.

“Shit,” he muttered, his hand moving as he clutched his wand.

Walt immediately phased into the ground, sucking in a breath of fresh air just before his head sunk below the earth.  Electricity scorched the spot he’d just occupied but made little progress through the thick soil, the energy lancing harmlessly into the ground.  His vision was plunged into sudden darkness, the earth around him pressing in – compressing his skin, his muscles, organs, and bones.  However, the feeling was more muted than it had been only days before.

A function of Dom’s extensive training.  He’d forced Walt to endure the pain for longer and longer periods, alternating with Strength, Endurance, and breathing training.

He had to admit, it had paid off.

Although, Phase still had limitations.  For example, Walt couldn’t fucking see anything underground.  He usually marked his location with a waypoint ahead of time, relying on that marker to navigate through the dirt, rock, and soil.  Not that this helped him right now.  He hadn’t had time to do anything other than get his ass underground.

So, he was going to have to improvise.

He pulled up his map – no longer having time to worry and wring his hands.  Lauren was out there fighting alone, after all.  Not that he would put much money on Nova’s team winning.  But they still outnumbered the girl by… well, a lot.

Walt shook his head, earning him a headache.  Keep my movements controlled and precise, he reminded himself.

Okay, first things first, he needed to have a better look around.  Although, he couldn’t help but remember the cliff at his back.  He pulled up his map and drew a line, tracing the edge of the cliff with a yellow waypoint marker – he didn’t want to accidentally phase out of the rock and fall to this death.  Then he added the edge of the lake and the river leading to the falls.  Drowning while being crushed to death by a waterfall also seemed like it might suck.

Finally, he placed arbitrary lines on each edge of this area to form a rough rectangle.  Nova and her gang had found them fast.  Which meant they must have been doing something nearby – probably related to the fall.  All of this only took him a few seconds.

His task complete, Walt began moving.  He filtered through the earth, moving as quickly as he could bear the pain.  After moving a few feet to the side, approaching the waterfall, he rose up slowly, allowing only his head to peak above the dirt.  Just enough for a look around and to refill his aching lungs.

Walt soon took in a dazzling scene.  Lightning arced and lanced all around the area, lashing against tree trunks and sending burning streamers curling up into the air.  The mages were firing at random now, trying to strike Lauren as she teleported through the tress.  Not that Walt was too worried.  He could see from the green dot on his map that she was tracing the edge of the area, only darting in occasionally for a kill before winking out again.

She was buying him time and whittling down their mana.

Which meant he needed to get moving.

Walt scanned the area, his brow furrowed.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  He took another breath and plunged again.  And again.  And again.  And each time, he left a marker denoting the area he’d scouted, slowing making his way toward the river leading to the falls.

Right at the edge of the water, he emerged again, only to freeze in shock.

He’d phased in right beside a heaping mound of crystals.

Very red crystals that seemed to hum with energy.  Fire mana, no doubt.  Highly explosive.  Likely what <The Jackals> had used to blow the entrances to the other goblin villages.  More of those gems lay along the banks in carefully placed piles, trenches dug in the loose soil.  Bags lay on the ground beside him, and the same gems glimmered inside.  It looked like they’d interrupted the mages’ work.

Suddenly, Walt could see their plan outlined in his head.

Sneak in air mages with lightweight explosives.  The weight compression afforded by the in-game bags would allow them to haul a LOT without sacrificing mobility.  Then blow the lake where it was weakest – at the falls.  Which would flood the valley.  The water would likely destroy the goblins’ camp.  But that wasn’t the main advantage.  No, Walt had spent enough time in that arena and the mine tunnels below them to know that was the low point of the valley.  The water would all flow in that direction, flooding the mines and effectively destroying them.

“Fuck,” he grunted, placing a marker, and typing out a short message to Lauren.

Seconds ticked past, and he finally saw a flash as Lauren teleported to his location – only for a scream to erupt from nearby.  He looked to the side to find Lauren suspended in a net of electricity, orbs floating around her, her back arched and skin flayed as smoke coiled away from her.  Nova paced out of the trees again with a smirk.

“Gotcha,” the air mage murmured.  The energy surged, and Lauren’s voice cut off, the muscles of her diaphragm and throat no longer responding.

Walt hadn’t lied to Lauren.  He was really only good at two things – stealing shit and running away.  He didn’t even really see why Dom had recruited him.  His abilities seemed like a cheat.  He’d made it to the goblin village by basically burrowing underground every time a creature came anywhere close to him.  It had been slow but effective.

But right now, in this moment… he was watching a young girl being burned alive.  His… friend?  That word felt strange, unfamiliar.  But as it echoed through his mind, Walt was suddenly overcome by a different emotion.  He wasn’t even sure what to call it.  Fear was usually his go-to – it had gotten him through a lot, even helped him obtain Deathwish.  But this new feeling made his stomach burn and his vision turn red.

Before he knew what he was doing, Walt was moving.  He Phased underground, and shifted toward Lauren in a flash.  With little sense for his own well-being, his arm emerged from the ground, stretching up into the air, ignoring the way the lightning burned his skin.  He just reached further until he snagged Lauren’s ankle.  The energy surged down his arm, grounding itself firmly into the dirt and the globes abruptly winking out.

Walt didn’t hesitate.  He pulled Lauren down with him, plunging back into the safety of the earth.  He Phased a dozen or so yards away, moving as quickly as he could.  Lauren probably hadn’t had a chance to take a breath…

Shit, shit, shit.

He emerged behind a tree in one of the safe areas he’d scouted, pulling Lauren along with him and settling her small frame against a nearby trunk.  The sight of her only made that burning sensation in his stomach grow stronger.  Almost every inch of skin had been burned off, leaving bloody red welts.  She was unconscious.  Almost dead.  With swift fingers, he dug in his pack, pulled a health potion free – a useful side effect of his sticky fingers was that he usually had tools on hand – before pouring the contents down Lauren’s throat.

Seconds ticked past, Walt eyeing the forest around them.  An eerie quiet had descended upon the jungle.  Although, he caught occasional flickers of electricity through the trunks and the branches creaked ever so softly overhead.  They must have sent scouts – the others focusing on finishing their mission and setting the explosives.

Lauren’s eyes flickered open.  “That… bitch,” she muttered.

Walt let out a relieved chuckle.

Lauren pushed herself up as her skin continued to knit itself back together – from red, to pink, to pale peach.  “Alright, what’s the situation?”

“Explosives.  They’re going to blow the falls.  I think Nova set traps around the mounds.  That’s what snagged you,” he explained.  They had no time for a longwinded discussion.

“Fuck,” Lauren muttered, eyeing her hand as she tried to flex her fingers.  They responded jerkily, but she was regaining full motor control quickly.

“I… I think we’re going to need to use that combo attack,” Walt suggested with a wince.  “We need to take some of them out and force Nova away from the explosives.”

Lauren looked at him sharply.  “You sure about that?”

“We aren’t going to let this bitch win.  Not after she hurt you,” Walt answered immediately.

“Ahh, that’s almost sweet,” she quipped.  Walt placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, unable to completely suppress the shudder that ran through his body.  This had been Dom’s idea.  It hurt like hell, but that wasn’t even the worst part.  It was the disorientation.  It affected Lauren too, but she was at least used to the rapid movement.  In Walt’s case, it was like being thrown in a washing machine, pounded with a hammer, and electrocuted all at the same time.  So, in other words, it sucked.

“Please don’t throw up on me again,” Lauren insisted.  “And keep your eyes open.”

Walt swallowed hard.  “I’ll try.”

Lauren looked at him skeptically but pulled her pistols free.  “Okay, on three.  1…  2…”

Lightning flashed across her body and arced to Walt, locking his arm to her shoulder.  They abruptly vanished in a blast of energy only to reappear beside an air mage perched in the branches.  The man immediately sprayed the area with lightning – but not before Walt Phased them into the nearby tree… then through it.  They emerged out the other side, and Lauren fired, a bullet arcing around the trunk and slamming into the man’s forehead.

Then they were gone again, and the world was spinning technicolor chaos.

Teleport.  Phase.  Shoot.

Phase.  Teleport.  Shit – they couldn’t dodge…

Gravity Well sent them hurtling sideways.

Teleport.  Phase.  Shoot.

Each jerky movement and thundering, intense pressure was accompanied by a spray of blood and screams of pain – their opponents and possibly someone else… maybe Walt?  Not that he could feel his throat any longer.  There was just so much pain.  Lightning coursed through his body.  Earth compressing in on him.  Then more lightning.  But Walt forced himself to focus on that gnawing, angry burn in his stomach.

It offered clarity.  It blunt the pain and nausea.

It helped him keep his damn eyes open.

After what felt like an eternity later, they slid to stop on solid ground.

Precious seconds ticked past, and then a series of thuds echoed behind them – bodies slamming into the ground.  They were both breathing hard, lightning still coursing across their connection and smoke coiling away from their skin.  And standing before them was Nova – a legion of orbs flickering across the entire area in front of the river.

“Good gods,” the woman muttered as she eyed the carnage behind the pair.

“Move?” Pewpew grunted at Walt.

He hesitated for only a moment.  “Can you distract her?” he ground out around the lightning, each word costing him, his mouth and lungs refusing to fully cooperate even with his Lightning Resistance.

Lauren looked at him then, a mad laugh escaping her lips.  “Are you going to do what I’m thinking?” she asked.

Walt shrugged – or at least, he tried.  “What’s a little more pain, after all.”

Lauren just laughed harder.  “Man, I knew I liked you.”

***

The girl suddenly let go of the earth mage, vanishing in a flash of electricity.  Nova was ready for that, however.  She threw orb after orb at her – turning parts of her traps into missiles.  That earth mage wasn’t a threat.  Not really.  He could phase into the ground and manipulate gravity, but it was the girl who had actually killed Nova’s guildmates.

The globes of lightning slammed into the ground and against nearby tree trunks, exploding in blasts of lightning but hitting nothing.  Lauren was already gone, a flickering wraith among the trees.  She shot back, but her missiles were deflected by the dome of electricity encircling Nova – her abilities cultivated to farm the goblin camps.  Traps and missile avoidance were her strong suit.  Her farming methods were even more efficient than Sean’s.

She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips as she saw the girl back off in frustration.

These people weren’t as powerful as Booker had led her to believe.

Meanwhile, Nova had lost sight of the earth mage.  He’d likely slithered under the ground.  Although, she did notice when one of the explosive piles suddenly disappeared.  So that was his play, huh?  Use the girl as a distraction and steal the explosives?  He must be using the earth around him to ground and dissipate her traps.

She let out a low growl.  Nova couldn’t afford to fail here.  She began anticipating the earth mage, blasting the ground around the explosives in anticipation of his next move – like an electrified game of whac-a-mole.

Although, that forced her to take her eyes off of the girl for a moment.

A massive CRACK erupted across the jungle as a low-hanging branch snapped free.

Nova’s head tilted up, her eyes going wide.  She saw what Lauren had done in an instant.  The girl hadn’t really been trying to hit Nova.  She’d been shooting that branch over and over, and Nova had been oblivious with the way the energy dome flickered around her and her attention split on the earth mage.  Now, nearly a ton of timber was tumbling down toward her and the explosives.

Frantic, Nova sent many of her remaining orbs rocketing upward, the energy crashing against the wood in a massive detonation of electricity.  The limb exploded apart, fragments of wood and lightning raining down around the riverbed.  The lightning set the smaller pieces of timber ablaze, flames flickering around her like fireflies.

Lauren reappeared amid that debris, just beside Nova, her pistol raised.

A glorious sense of victory welled in Nova’s chest.  “Got you again.”

Lightning erupted around Lauren, snatching her from the air and trapping her once again.  Yet Nova hesitated as she saw the girl simply staring back at her, laughing despite the energy that coursed through her body and melted her skin.  “Checkmate, bitch,” she ground out.

That little girl’s pale, smiling, white mask was the last thing Nova saw before she was suddenly yanked underground, her shout of surprise cut off abruptly.  She sank into the earth, the dirt and rock compressing around her until it felt like her limbs might explode.  And still, she sank deeper and deeper and deeper.  Her lungs were burning.  She tried to suck in air, but there was nothing to breathe.  It was like she was drowning underground.  Buried alive.

And for a few feeble seconds – as she realized she was finished – Nova thought to herself that this… this might be the most excruciating way to die.

Unfortunately, she was wrong.

***

As Walt struck the bottom of the cliff and kept plunging through the earth, he finally found what he’d been looking for.  He felt the pressure relent briefly along his arm and slowed, shifting sideways.  He emerged in a small pocket of clear space amid the dense rock – well away from the falls and the mine shafts.  A tiny cavern.  Nova fell to the ground beside him, and she gasped for air like a fish on land.  Wretched, painfilled gasps.  Her skin was purpled and bruised from the compression.  She’d probably broken a few ribs.

Walt didn’t spare a second of sympathy for her.  All he felt was that burning sensation.

Anger, he realized belatedly.  This is what anger feels like.

Not that this slowed his movements.  He dumped the contents of the bags onto Nova’s writhing body, piling the glimmering gems.  Nova was starting to catch her breath now, and her natural health regeneration was only just beginning to heal her injuries.

“Where… what…?”  She suddenly saw the gems illuminating the tiny cave, and sudden panic filled her gaze.  Nova turned to Walt then.

“No… you can’t.  This… is crazy,” she begged, her composure cracking.

That mask stared back.  Impassive.

Walt could remember the question Dom had posed to them when they arrived in Boomtown – a time that felt like an eternity ago but was really only a week in-game.  He could feel that anger coiling in his stomach – the image of Lauren’s burned body seared into his mind’s eye.

“Are you afraid to die?” Walt asked.

“You… you people are insane.  You’ll die too!” Nova managed.

“Maybe,” Walt said cocking his head.  He stooped down in front of her.  “But remember this the next time you pick a fight with <Death and Taxes>.  None of us are afraid of death.”

Nova just stared up at him, her body covered in fire crystals, her mouth gaping but unable to come up with a response, one bruised hand reaching for him feebly.  Begging.

Yet she could only look on in horror as Walt stepped forward, pressing his heel against a gem… settling his weight against it ever-so-slowly.  Could only stare as the surface cracked.  Fractured.  As light and flame and heat poured forth in a flood of energy.  Could only scream as the flames roasted her alive, only for the explosion to rip her body apart along with the cavern walls, thousands of tons of rock finishing the job.

And the whole time, that damn mask just stared back at her.

Smiling.

Chapter 48 - Circle Back

Dom was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling – each breath causing the smoke to swirl and puff around him.  No matter how hard he pressed back at that dark gray sea, it would just surge back toward him, phantom shapes cutting and slicing within its depths.  Chipping away.  Now his suit was riddled with jagged cuts, and crimson blood stained the fabric.

This was a battle of attrition – one Booker didn’t actually plan to win.

Every time Dom’s health dipped or his stamina bottomed out, the guild leader backed off.  Gave him just enough time to recover.  But he didn’t stray far enough away that Dom could make his escape or swipe at his chat log.  Dom had gradually managed to push closer toward the gate – even as the sounds of battle slowly faded, the screams of Booker’s troops no longer echoing through the murky smoke.  But even that was pointless.  Futile really.

It was infuriating, and yet he could still feel a kernel of respect.

He had to admit, Booker had capitalized on his weakness.

“I have to admire your tenacity,” Booker called out from the smoke, his voice ever-shifting and changing its position.  “Most men would have given up by now.  Simply logged out?  Or hell, just caved and sat down.  This struggle is getting us nowhere.  Or you, I suppose.”

Dom just let out a hacking cough.  That last shadow clone had managed to puncture a lung.  But he ignored the burning pain in his chest as he rose back to his feet, his most recent wounds knitting themselves closed – pressed fabric smoothing back into place.  “Yeah… well, like I said, I can’t afford to lose.”

He trailed off as he saw Lauren’s icon blinking red in his peripheral vision… then go gray.  She’d died.  Tombs wasn’t far behind.  His health was dropping – only to level off moments later.  Then, without warning, he went from half health to nothing at all.

Like someone had just one-shot him.  Who the hell was strong enough to manage that?

Much less take them both out?

A sudden weight dropped in Dom’s stomach, although he didn’t have long to ponder on that sense of dread.  A rumble sounded in the distance, then a thunderous concussive boom that had his eyes shifting back toward Boomtown – or at least where he thought the town was located in this dense, soupy shit.  He’d only caught sight of it a few times when he’d tried to Leap from the mists.  A heavy vibration followed close behind, causing the smoke to undulate in waves and the ground to buck and sway beneath Dom’s feet.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.  He couldn’t see anything.  Had no idea what had happened back there.

“Well, that was great timing,” the guild leader piped up, his voice sounding chipper.  “Don’t worry, you get used to losing after a while.  You can certainly trust me on that.”

Dom let out a low growl, his hands curling into fists as the metacarpal bones crunched and cracked.  “You really think this is over?”

A pause and then, “Uh, yeah?  What’re you going to do now that your goblin town is destroyed and your mines are flooded?  I’ve lived in this world longer than you, so let me enlighten you to an experience you haven’t felt yet.  Resource constraints are real… and excruciatingly painful.  What the hell is the point of soldiers without weapons.  Or, in your case, bullets.”

Dom chat suddenly pinged, and his brow furrowed.

“I wouldn’t gloat too soon,” a third voice spoke up from the fog.

Dom’s muscles tensed—

A sudden piercing shriek filled the air without warning.  A wave of force slammed into the smoke, throwing aside the dense fog in an undulating wave and revealing the entire area in a nearly fifty-yard radius.  The sound even destroyed Booker’s shadow creatures, blasting them apart and causing them to shatter into motes of smoke that simply tumbled up into the air.

In that fraction of a second, Dom saw several things.

Adrian was standing a couple dozen yards away, continuing to sustain that single high-pitched note.  Booker’s position had been revealed – the man now doubled over in pain and clutching at his ears as blood leaked down his fingers.  Dom’s eardrums weren’t in much better shape… but in contrast to the guild leader, he was used to it after intensive training.

In a flash of movement and a flurry of dust, Dom launched off.  He was beside Booker almost instantly, grabbing his wrist and twisting to the sound of crunching bone – cutting off his ability to cast.  Then his arm circled his neck, and Booker let out a strangled gasp, blood still leaking from his ears.  He seemed to have trouble focusing his eyes, disoriented by Adrian’s music, which faded as the bard saw that the guild leader had been disabled.

Adrian strolled up to them casually, his masked face impassive.  “As I was saying… you oughta stop talking until you know you’re actually safe,” the bard observed.  “You might give away your location to something dangerous.  Jungle rule #1.”

Dom wasn’t exactly in the mood to appreciate the irony there.

“We still… won,” Booker ground out.

Dom looked at Adrian sharply.  Was that true?

“Ahh, but did you?  Did you?” Adrian repeated.

The bard turned and let out a piercing whistle, carving a tunnel in the smoke – one leading straight back to Boomtown.  Then he stooped beside Booker, pointing off into the distance.  “You see that there?  That totally intact mountain you meant to blow up?”

Booker’s expression fell at that, his mouth opening and closing but no sound escaping.

Then he hung his head and let out another sigh.  A faint smile pulled at his lips.

“Shit… nice play,” Booker muttered.

Dom snapped his neck a second later, the guild leader’s body tumbling to the dirt with a heavy thud and sending up another puff of dust.

Adrian was just staring at Dom… waiting.

“What?” Dom grunted.

“Oh, I dunno.  How about thank you, Adrian?  I’m perpetually indebted to you for saving my ass from a single caster that was literally channeling hot air?  You’re my hero.  An idol, really.  Without you, this entire team would come crumbling down.”

Dom just stared back.  “Sure.  So that’s what?  One save to like a thousand?  I’ll put it on your tab,” he grunted, turning toward Boomtown, and beginning the walk back.

“Hey, that’s not—” Adrian hesitated as he scrambled to catch up.  “Okay, well, I guess that’s technically true.  But what about my timing?  That showmanship was on fucking point, right?”

Dom side-eyed him.  “Wait… no.”  He shook his head.  “I almost don’t want to ask this.  Were… were you hiding in the smoke and waiting for the best time to make a snappy entrance?”

Adrian went really quiet, his muscles stiffening.  Then he placed an offended hand to his chest.  “Would I do that to a beloved friend and business partner?  Watch you get brutally beaten down over and over and over and over again by silly smoke puppets?”

“How did you know about the shadow clones?” Dom asked archly.  “I didn’t mention that.”

“Shadow Clones, huh?  Yeah, that’s a much cooler name,” Adrian murmured, clearly avoiding Dom’s question.  “Much less manly to get beat down by smoke puppets.”

Dom was about to reply, but instead, he just let out a sigh, his jaw snapping shut with a click.

He might as well conserve his energy anyway.

This day was far from over.

***

“What the hell happened here?” Walt muttered as he and Lauren teleported back up onto the ramparts, his eyes taking in the blood strewn across the timber, Wingman perched atop what appeared to be a corpse.

“Oh, that?” Adrian drawled from beside Dom.  “Wingman’s just saying hello.”

“Fucking… kill… me,” Sean wheezed out.

Six masked faces turned toward Sean.

“Holy shit, he’s actually still alive,” Lauren said, peering down at him with her frozen white smile.  “There are only like pieces of him left.”

Dom inventoried his injuries in seconds – a function of experience.  Sean was missing the fingers on both hands, including his thumbs.  His toes were gone too.  Although, Wingman had been less precise due to his boots, snagging a few metatarsal bones.  She’d also taken other samples from around his body, and chunks were now missing.  Most notably, he was missing an eye.  That was some biblical shit right there.  Now, blood and gore stained his armor, creating a muddy crimson lake beneath him.  It seemed the chicken’s training had paid off.  She’d neatly missed every major artery, ensuring he wouldn’t bleed out too quickly.

He expected himself to feel a twinge of guilt, at least.

Yet, there wasn’t even a flutter in Dom’s chest.

What was this compared to his own condition?

“I’ll… get… even,” Sean managed, glaring up at them.

“Doubtful,” Willow commented dryly.  “Your army has been destroyed.  And you hear that?” A roar sounded in the smoke below, the streamers gradually beginning to rise up into the sky around the ramparts – the air mages keeping it contained must have run out of mana.  “That’s the sound of goblins celebrating down there.”

“Not that there was much for them to do by the time we were done,” Vanessa added icily.

“Oh, and those explosives… we took care of that,” Lauren said, gesturing at Walt.

Dom stooped down in front of Sean, eyeing him calmly.

“So, it looks like you’ve failed.  Miserably.  Against just the six of us.  How do you expect to get even exactly?” he demanded.  “You couldn’t even take a chicken.”

“Just battle… we win… war,” Sean wheezed, his eyes bleary and unfocused now.  “Guild… still controls… Aislen.”

Dom grunted.  “For now.”

Then he waved at Wingman, and she let out a squawk, pressing her foot down until Sean’s armor finally caved and bone crunched.  The raid leader couldn’t even let out a scream as the wind was forced from his lungs.  If anything, death was likely a welcome relief – even with the way the game muted his sense of pain.  Moments later, he was still.

“So, uh, what now?” Adrian asked, observing the battlefield below them as the smoke continued to clear.  The dirt was pockmarked with craters, bodies littering the field – hundreds of corpses now fertilizing the soil.  Goblins were picking over the remains with gusto, snatching anything that wasn’t soulbound – occasional fights breaking out over a particularly nice piece of gear.

Dom frowned as he watched that commotion.

He’d paid attention to the bodies on the trek back.  As well as their gear.  It was subpar.  Rejects.  Nearly broken.  Half-assed attempts from their new crafters, no doubt.  No, after confronting Booker, he was sure the man had reserved the guild’s premium equipment.  He’d almost certainly planned for the possibility that he might fail.  Even so, Dom wasn’t sure Booker would expect his next move.

Booker’s actions were calculated.  Coordinated.  Clever.  But they were still rooted in the real world – at least in part.  A small bias that worked in Dom’s favor.

“Dom?” Adrian asked gently.

He looked up to find the others waiting.  Ready.  Almost… excited?

And looking to him for their orders.

“We can let the goblins finish up here.  They could probably use the shit gear anyway, and they won’t abandon free loot.  I need you all to herd them toward Aislen when they’re finished.  Travel as fast as you can.  Promise them whatever you need,” he continued, “but move fast.  We don’t have much time to launch our counterattack.”

“Now?  Really?” Vanessa asked, a trace of skepticism in her voice.

Dom nodded.  “This is the perfect time.  Almost all of the guild is still logged in at the moment.  They’ll all be respawning in Aislen shortly.  This is our best chance to make an impression.  One they sure as hell won’t forget.”

He looked back down at the battlefield.  “And after failing… well, we’re in their heads right now.  An ice witch that changes her appearance and turns friends into foes.  A fiery hellion that burns anyone that comes close.  An air and earth mage that took out an entire group of casters.”  Dom’s eyes skimmed back to Sean’s corpse.  “Even that asshole will be affected.

“We’re going to need that.  People act erratically when they’re emotional.”

A heavy silence followed his words.

Then Dom’s gaze snapped up.  “Let’s move.  We don’t have much time.”

That’s all the reminder they needed.  The group bled away, Lauren snatching Walt and teleporting down into the field below them – even as Vanessa and Willow dropped to the ground and conjured a blaze of fire and ice, the steam helping to clear the rest of the smoke and drawing the attention of the drunken goblins that swarmed the field.

Only moments later, Vanessa had conjured a truly enormous pile of kegs – no doubt composed entirely of ice.  Dom could just barely make out the ice mage shouting at the goblins who approached enthusiastically.  No doubt she was promising them all the beer they could drink if they followed her instructions to the letter.

“Something wrong?” Adrian asked as the pair were left alone, Wingman snapping up the rest of Sean’s remains in a single gulp.  She didn’t like to waste food.

Dom rubbed at his neck.  Despite his effort to project confidence with the others, his conversation with Booker had stuck with him.  The man wasn’t quite the asshole he’d expected after his encounter with Sean.  And he was motivated – that much was clear.

Although, Dom still didn’t know what was driving him.

He shook his head.  He supposed it didn’t matter.  Dom still had a contract to fulfill.

There was money to be made – a life hanging in the balance.  His own life.

Dom finally looked up to Adrian.  “Nothing to worry about.  Just thinking.  I need for you to go tell Whistleknot that it’s time.  He should bring that project we were working on.”

“Oh, c’mon now.  Call it by its real name,” Adrian quipped, amusement coloring his voice – likely his attempt to lighten the heaviness in Dom’s tone.

A sigh escaped Dom’s lips.  “The… the launchy death ‘sploder.”

The bard pointed at him.  “There it is.”

Without another word, the bard let out a cheery, upbeat whistle, his body suddenly illuminated in a yellow glow.  Then Adrian dropped from the wall in a blur of motion, speeding off toward the tunnels behind the growing goblin town.

Wingman clucked softly beside Dom, having regained her normal size.  She stared up at Dom with her one good eye, cocking her head to the side.  Unlike Adrian, she wasn’t entirely convinced he was alright.  She could still sense that something was off with him.

“Don’t worry,” Dom reassured her, patting her matted feathers.  “I’m fine.”

And, for once, he actually meant it.

Chapter 49 - Liberated

Booker respawned with a gasp.

His throat still tickled, but that was it.  He was used to death – in the real world and this one.  The constant replay in the deathscape had also been… interesting.  And infuriating.  He’d dramatically underestimated Dom, as well as his team.  He’d seen him send out a message, but that behemoth of a man had certainly only had time to type out a single word.

And yet, his team had still destroyed Booker’s plan.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself, his hands pawing at his bags.  His fingers soon found a cigarette, but he couldn’t find his lighter crystal.

A soldier cowered nearby, hunched up against the wall and shivering as he hugged himself.  “You happen to have any fire affinity?” Booker asked, scrunching his brow.

The traveler just stared back blankly, and the guild leader let out a frustrated huff.  Dozens – hundreds – more were spawning in around Booker in flashes of multi-colored light, swiftly filling the starting courtyard.  Most of them didn’t look much better than this soldier.  Pale.  Trembling.  A few were sobbing.  Others clung to their chest or limbs they’d likely lost.

“Ahh, shit, never mind,” Booker mumbled around the cigarette, finding the lighter crystal in his pocket.  He soon tapped the cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling that soothing burn of smoke fill his lungs once again.  He’d never get tired of this.

Nova soon appeared beside him in a flash of light.  The usually reserved and stoic woman was shivering, gasping for breath, her eyes wide and wild.

“Rough time?” Booker asked, blowing a smoke ring.

“That was… I didn’t….”  She stumbled to string together words.  “What the fuck is wrong with those people?” Nova finally managed, her shock swiftly being replaced with anger.  “One of them pulled me underground and then blew us both up!  Who the hell does that?”

Booker winced.  That had to have been rough.  The concussive force inside a small cave likely would have ripped every part of her body apart long before the rocks crushed what remained.  A lot like setting off a grenade underwater.  He’d seen that once – the memory still sending a shudder down his spine.  Water missions were the worst.

The guild leader didn’t have a chance to answer his officer before another flash lit up beside them.  Sean fell out of that rift, immediately dropping to the ground and heaving up the contents of his stomach across the dirt, a few other travelers scrambling aside to avoid any splash damage.

Yeah, sometimes this place is too realistic, Booker thought.  And then an idle thought flitted through his mind, Where’d those chunks come from anyway?  Did he actually eat something?

“Fuck… just fuck them all.  I’m going to rip them apart with my bare hands,” Sean growled, his eyes filled with rage and his fists beating against the cobblestones… and his own vomit Booker observed in disgust.  Clearly, he was upset.

“I’ll second that,” Nova managed, pulling herself back to her feet.  “How’d they get you?” she asked Sean.

The raid leader hesitated, and his rage cooled abruptly as he glanced to the side.  “The chicken ate me…”

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Booker interjected.  “Did you just say the chicken ate you?”

Lightning crackled around Sean’s body as he forced himself upright.  “Yes.  Yes, it fucking ate me, you happy?  Finger by finger and limb by limb.  Cause this game apparently doesn’t have any gods-damn fucking rules at all.”

“This is the same chicken you mutilated, though, right?” Nova asked skeptically.

Sean turned that glare on her, lightning now wrapping his body and the air mage put up her hands defensively.  “Just asking.  Geez.  We’ve all had a rough time of it.  Maybe take a damn breath?  We’re on the same team.”

The raid leader snorted at that, eyeing Booker, who stood there quietly, puffing at his cigarette, and his eyes drifting up to the puffy white clouds that were floating across Aislen.

“Same team, huh?” Sean demanded.  “So, what does our fearless fucking leader have planned for us next?  Can’t help but notice you also died.  Were you standing in the back watching?  Get taken out by a damn monkey pack while the rest of us got straight up tortured?”

Other members of <The Jackals> had heard that, more than a few glaring in Booker’s direction.  He could see their reasoning – as emotional and irrational as it might be.  He’d seen it before in the service.  It was sometimes easier to blame command than the damn enemy.  They could control that.  Booker was here.  Booker was someone that could be held accountable for their pain, unlike some enemy combatants they’d likely never see again.

“Got nothing to say?” Sean growled, pacing forward a step.

Immediately, a coil of smoke wound around Sean’s throat from behind, forcing him down to the ground and squeezing tightly around his neck, veins and muscles bulging.  Sean gasped for breath and strained against the binding to no avail.  His fingers just passed harmlessly through the smoke.  Meanwhile, Booker took another long drag on his cigarette.

He let out a sigh.  “To answer your question, I was keeping Dom occupied.  By myself.  That’s the only reason you all didn’t die even faster.”

The rest of the guild was staring now, gaping as Sean’s face began to turn a deep shade of purple.  Just before he blacked out, Booker released the spell, and the officer heaved in a desperate breath, wheezing and coughing feebly on the ground.  He’d never much liked Sean.  Booker had recruited him and used him more out of necessity than desire.  And to be honest, he might be a little angry.  After speaking with Dom, it was clear that Sean had started this whole damn mess.

Nova coughed to clear her throat, the sound suddenly loud in the silence of the courtyard.  “It wasn’t a complete loss.  We didn’t manage to flood the valley or the mines, but we still trapped the other goblins and took out the nearby forest and their food supply.”  She looked to Booker.  “So, what’s our next move.”

He’d been wondering the same thing as he watched the clouds float peacefully overhead.  He was almost envious of their freedom – their languid nonchalance.  In contrast, a part of his mind was furiously trying to anticipate what Dom would do, only to keep coming up short.  Booker’s thoughts kept wandering back to the image of that mask, a body riddled with wounds – the way that man had gotten back up over and over and over again, long past the point where an average person would have given up.  And when pressed for a reason—

“I don’t have a choice.”

Booker could certainly relate to that.

And he knew firsthand that desperate men made the worst enemies.

“Booker?” Nova asked quietly.

He started slightly, his eyes refocusing on the sky, only for his brow to furrow.  He thought he’d just seen something drifting between the clouds.

“Are you—?”  Nova began.

Booker held up a hand, squinting to blot out the harsh sunlight.  He could definitely see something now.  A faint black dot.  And it was getting closer.  Fast.  Letting out a whistling whine that began to announce its presence.  More dots raced out of the clouds, and the intensity of that high-pitched noise kept growing until it was a wailing shriek.

The rest of the guild was starting to follow his gaze – a cry going up from the soldiers in the courtyard.  As the object neared, Booker almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

That wasn’t the whine of air resistance.  Those were screams.  From what appeared to be goblins strapped to fucking rockets!  As the missiles neared Aislen, the goblins somehow had the presence of mind to drop something, just before the damn rockets exploded violently, creating massive plumes of fire that filled the air above Aislen like fireworks.  The series of booms echoed out across the city like cannon fire.

Debris soon rained down upon the streets and the courtyard, most of the travelers running for cover.  Booker didn’t move, though.  Wispy versions of his shadow clones swiped a few stray pieces of shrapnel aside to protect him, his eyes watching the fluttering scraps of paper floating amid the smoke and wreckage.  Moments later, he snatched one of those pages from the air, dozens more landing around the courtyard.

Dear Residents of Aislen,

<Death and Taxes> will be liberating your city shortly.

Please stay indoors if you don’t wish to die.

Sincerely,

Smiles

“Is he crazy?” Nova muttered, staring down at one of those pages.  Many, many more had tumbled down around Aislen, alerting the residents to seek cover.

Booker could see Dom’s play here.  He didn’t want to injure the residents, who couldn’t respawn.  Despite his bravado, neither did Booker.  The residents were useful.  And far too realistic for his tastes.  Leverage them?  Exploit them?  Sure.  But kill them?

That felt like a bridge too far, even for him.

He’d never been one of those guys that shrugged at civilian casualties.

But still, Dom was loudly announcing his next move.  And the implication of that was obvious.  He didn’t give a single fuck if <The Jackals> knew he was coming.  In fact, he clearly wanted them to know.

“He can’t be serious,” Sean grunted, having pulled himself upright, rubbing at his throat and side-eyeing Booker cautiously.  That was fear in his eyes.  Good.

Booker heaved out another smoke ring, this one forming the shape of a familiar smiley face with a few short jerks of his fingers – a single smoky tear bleeding away from one eye.

“Oh, he is.  Dom is definitely planning to attack Aislen.”

***

“You can’t be serious,” Adrian muttered.

The group was hovering on a neighboring mountain island, perched atop one of the many massive trees that filled the jungle.  This one happened to offer an unimpeded view of Aislen.  The city had been fortified in their absence, a wall of structures now completely encircling the city.  Windows were boarded shut, and what appeared to be barbed wire and traps dotted the structures.  It seemed the guild had learned their lesson after Dom and Adrian had infiltrated the city.

Dom’s guildmates were all staring at the clouds of black smoke and rain of fluttering paper that drifted down over the city – the remains of the goblin-manned rockets.

“Good job, Whistleknot,” Dom shouted to the ground below, where the goblin engineers had set up a makeshift launch platform.  Only a few dozen had died igniting the rockets – much better than he’d expected, actually.  And most of the rockets had actually made it over Aislen.  Only one or two had crashed directly into the rocky cliff face.

Adrian rolled his eyes.  “You can’t just keep ignoring me.”

“Seems to be working for him so far,” Lauren quipped where her legs swung from a nearby branch, Tombs perched beside her – the pair had been inseparable since fighting Nova.  “He must have had a lot of practice,” she insisted, staring at the bard pointedly.

“Probably his go-to strategy for dealing with you,” Willow offered.

The others all nodded.

“This wounds me.  I’m wounded,” Adrian shot back.  “Also, this plan is complete, batshit insane.  No normal person would agree to this.”

“To be honest, calling it a plan is pretty generous,” Vanessa drawled.

Adrian just pointed at her.  “See, even the Ice Princess with a frozen lance stuck up her as—” he cut himself short as shards suddenly pricked at his neck.  He swallowed hard.  “Like I was saying, her majesty the Queen actually agrees with me!  Hell is literally freezing over here, folks.  What more sign do you need?”

“I like the plan.  Fuck ‘em,” Walt said simply.

The rest of the group looked at him in surprise.

“Really?” Adrian demanded in shock.

Walt just shrugged as Lauren fist-bumped him.

“I don’t see your problem here.  Your role is useful but not strictly necessary,” Willow said, rubbing at her neck as she eyed the clouds overhead.  “You’re literally just making a bunch of noise.  Some of us have much worse jobs.”

The bard crossed his arms.  “Okay, well, maybe I’m worried about Dom.  This is going to be a lot.  Even for him.”

“Ahh, that’s cute,” Lauren commented.  “Now, can we get this moving?  My parents want me to actually attend dinner tonight.”

“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” Dom answered.  He eyed Adrian where the bard was standing there, crossing his arms defensively.  “As for your concerns… it’ll be fine.  I’ll be fine,” Dom amended.  “At least as long as you follow my instructions.  Just get Truggle to keep the goblins on the islands.  Kill anyone who tries to escape but don’t attack the city.  Then you can follow with the others.”

“Fine.  Fine,” Adrian grumbled.

“If it’s any consolation.  You’re going to have a huge audience this time,” Dom observed, waving at the travelers who were filling the walls of Aislen.  The entirety of <The Jackals> was out in force since less than thirty minutes had passed since their ass-kicking back at Boomtown.  Dom suspected even unaffiliated players were logging in as word of the flyers spread.  And no doubt others would be streaming the battle online.

And then there were the goblins crowding the mountain islands encircling Aislen.  The native wildlife hadn’t stood a chance against a wave of suicidal green assholes hellbent on obtaining Vanessa’s promised beer.  They were now raring for a fight.  Or a show.  Or a show with some bloodshed, preferably.

The bard cocked his head as he stared at the city.  “I guess that’s technically true,” he murmured.  Then, Adrian gasped loudly.  “Shit, what am I going to play?  It better be good.  This is probably going to be hitting the gaming news cycle tomorrow.”  He whirled toward Queen.  “Hey, how do I look?  Show ready?  Could you maybe touch me up here with your illusions…”

Dom rolled his eyes, waved discreetly at Walt, and dropped from the branch, the earth mage following close behind.  He hit the ground with a thump, and a Gravity Well blunted Walt’s fall, the throng of goblins scattering.  Wingman immediately rushed Dom and nuzzled his thigh, letting out a questioning cluck as she peered up at him.

“No, not this time.  I need you to stay with Adrian,” Dom said, patting her head.

She let out a low, sad cluck.

“I know.  I keep running off without you.  But this is the last time, I promise.  Besides, we’ll be meeting up soon,” he reassured her.  “Besides, how will Adrian pull this off without his band?”  Wingman cocked her head, nodding along with his reasoning before fluttering back up into the branches above them.

Dom eyed Walt.  “You ready?”

“Are you?” the earth mage shot back.  Dom couldn’t see his face with the mask, but there was something different about him ever since his run-in with Nova.  “Adrian isn’t exactly wrong.  He was just saying what we were all thinking.”

Dom’s eyes shifted back to Aislen.  The rope bridges had all been cut, and the planks now snapped against the rocky cliff edge as the wind gusted around the island.  It was hard to believe that only mere weeks ago, he’d first run out across those bridges – green and naïve.  But he’d changed since then.

For one thing, he didn’t need the bridges anymore.

“It’ll be fine,” he said softly.  He glanced at Walt.  “I’m not afraid to die.”

“Clearly,” the earth mage grunted.

Then Walt’s fingers started moving, and emerald energy spilled away from him and gathered into a dense cluster around Dom.  Walt didn’t fully activate the spell.  Not yet anyway.  Dom crouched, his legs tensing, his eyes closing for a moment.  He’d need to get the angle just right for this to work.  Otherwise, he might be smashed against the cliff face like a few of those goblins.  He could still see the bloodstains and scorch marks from here.

Besides, Adrian would never let him hear the end of it.  He could already imagine the rants about the effect on the guild’s marketing and PR.  “Guild leader gets plastered” had a terrible ring to it.  Shit, he might have been spending too much time with the bard.

Dom shook his head.  He needed to focus.

“Ready?” Walt asked.

Dom’s eyes snapped closed.  He forced his thoughts to calm, to focus on the present and the feel of his body.  His heartbeat thudded in his chest, slow and strong.  This was when he found clarity.  Whether on the football field or the battlefield, it didn’t matter.  This moment of calm before the storm.  Before the snap.  The crackle of lightning and flash of fire.

With a wave of his hand, Dom gave Walt the signal.

“Okay, on my count,” Walt continued, his voice sounding distant.

“3.”

“2.”

“1.”

Dom’s legs snapped forward, the earth cracking and splintering below him as he put every ounce of force he had into this Leap.  Even so, it wouldn’t normally be enough.  Not without the green energy that suddenly solidified around him.  A Gravity Well pointed up and at an angle, Walt mimicking Dom’s trajectory.  He hurtled forward at an incredible pace, wind whipping around him and the walls of Aislen closing in fast.

Then Dom had crossed the top of the barricade, barely able to see the surprised faces of <The Jackals> lining the walls.  A few of the more attentive casters and archers managed to get a few bolts free, but they skidded past, failing to anticipate Dom’s speed.

There was one downside to his plan, though.

He still needed to land.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have Walt’s help on this end.

Just before Dom struck the ground, he pivoted in the air, aiming for a cluster of travelers.  He struck feet first, and the muscles in his legs strained to absorb the shock.  It wouldn’t be enough.  He’d still need to be able to move after this and couldn’t afford to let the bones snap under the pressure.  So, he fell into the momentum, rolling forward, his body striking several of the soldiers.  They were sent flying backward, slammed against a nearby building, and lodged in place, bones fractured and armor dented.  They’d served their purpose, blunting some of Dom’s velocity.

Dom just kept going, barreling through the ranks of <The Jackals> like a human bowling ball, the world spinning and listing around him until he finally slowed… and then stopped.  His vision was swimming, but he didn’t have time to wait for it to clear.

He rose back to his feet slowly, wiping the dust from his suit.  He turned to see that he’d carved a furrow through the ranks of the travelers.  Groups of players were crushed against a nearby building, limbs broken and blood spilling from open wounds.  More than a few were groaning.  And at their back?  Many, many more soldiers lined the courtyard and the ramparts of the city gates.  They stared back with wide eyes at the man who’d just jumped across the chasm leading to the other rock islands.  If any among them had been questioning Dom’s abilities or his reputation, well, they were probably convinced now.

Golden coins appeared in Dom’s hands.  Tokens.  He’d managed to snatch a few as he barreled through the travelers.  He held the coins between his fingers as he eyed his opponents, the air tense.  Energy crackled along wands and staves.  Swords were held in hand.  Shields wavered and dipped – held in trembling fingers.

And all the while, his luck multiplier kept climbing.  The joys of flying solo.

Dom flicked the coins outward in rapid succession.  Five mages toppled in an instant, holes carved through their necks.  And five bodies slumped against the ramparts.

Even as more coins rattled down into the courtyard.

That broke the calm.  Elemental spells rocketed at Dom.  He calmly watched as a globe of ice collided with a Fireball in mid-air, exploding into a cloud of steam that expanded outward to fill the area.  Screams erupted as soldiers along the courtyard were caught in the superheated vapor – literally cooked within their own armor.  His luck must have been responsible for that.

Dom used the cover to his advantage, rocketing forward even as a wave of steel surged toward him.  He ignored the burns on his arms, his Fire Resistance blunting most of the damage as the steam began to cool and dissipate, streaming up into the sky.

A punch to a temple.  A quick jerk of a neck.  More coins fell… only to be snatched from the air and flicked outward, all aimed at the mages that still lined the ramparts – highlighted yellow in the mere seconds before the brawl started.  Yet Dom kept many of the chips.  He just wanted to put pressure on the casters.  They were his biggest threat right now.

He needed to maintain his stacks of Roll the Dice, after all.

“Dom’s at the gates!”

“Kill him now!”

“Send him back for a respawn!”

He could hear cries coming from down the road, accompanied by the stomp and thud of mailed feet.  Reinforcements, no doubt.  The guild members must have panicked and broke lines to get their pound of flesh.  To kill him now and force him to run back to Boomtown – precious seconds that they must have felt would turn the tides of battle.  From their perspective, they were probably just waiting for the goblin horde perched on the nearby islands to attack.

Yet that was far from Dom’s plan here.

As the steam swirled away, it revealed Dom standing amid a pile of bodies.  His suit was intact – his mask unmarred.  More than a hundred soldiers loomed around him and filled the street leading to the gates.  More mages and archers were positioned on the ramparts.  In the distance, the whine of a guitar filled the air – echoing across the gorge between islands – punctuated with a deadly drumbeat and the roar of the goblins.  A red glow settled across Dom’s skin.  It rippled out across the fabric, growing stronger with each passing second.

Alone.  Outnumbered.  His luck revealed his odds as it only continued to climb.

Despite all of that, Dom didn’t feel a moment of doubt or fear facing these opponents.

He just gestured for them to come at him.

His mask smiling back the entire time.

***

“Okay, maybe Adrian might have been right!” Willow screamed.  That was the only way she could be heard over the roar of the wind.

“Don’t ever fucking tell him that!” Lauren shouted back.

The pair were positioned overtop Aislen.  Or really, falling might have been a better word.  Lauren clung to Willow with one hand as she tugged another mana potion from her bag, ripped out the cork with her teeth, and then downed the contents – all while the pair was freefalling.  She dropped the vial, and as her mana recovered, Lauren teleported again, sending the pair further upward and behind one of those puffy white clouds that continuously drifted overtop the city.

Meanwhile, a school of flying fish swam past, their scales sparkling in the sunlight.

“Fuckers.  They make it look easy!”  Lauren yelled.

Willow just shook her head, staring at the ground far, far below.

“You ready?” Lauren demanded.  “Don’t have many potions left!”

The older woman swallowed hard and nodded.  Then she began casting.  Every few seconds, Lauren would teleport upward again to the edge of her control range, abruptly stopping their freefall and sending the contents of Willow’s stomach rocketing back up into her throat.  Yet there was no choice.  The air mage had to keep them aloft and close to Willow’s spell in order for her to keep channeling her mana into the ball of flame that kept growing by the second.

Fall.

Channel.

Teleport.

As she worked, Willow found her mind wandering to strange places.  Maybe it was the adrenaline.  Or the idea of splattering her remains across the ground after falling from a few thousand feet.  When Dom had described the plan… it hadn’t sounded that bad.  Create a big fucking Fireball and then drop it onto the city.  Easy enough.  And if Willow put enough juice into the spell, it should still pack one hell of a wallop by the time it landed, more than enough to travel well outside her control range, surely.

At least, in theory.

To be honest, she’d never tried channeling her entire mana pool into one spell before.  Opponents usually didn’t give her that sort of time.  And there had been other pesky problems… For example, killing herself in the blast.  However, just as she had since she met this crazy masochist living in the jungle with a band of suicidal goblins, she found herself feeling curious.  That buzz of excitement overriding her fear as she saw the Fireball continue to blossom in size.

Fall.

Channel.

Teleport.

Maybe it was because she’d been so damned bored back in the real world.  Consigned to that old-age prison.  Is this what schoolchildren felt back in the day?  Locked behind chain-link fences and fed an endless stream of useless bullshit and bad food?  Seemed old age was destined to have her repeating that same loop.  Playing fucking bingo and eating Jell-O until she started wetting the bed again.  Except this time, she’d have the life experience to appreciate just how miserable she truly was.  Fucking perfect.

Fall.

Channel.

Teleport.

In contrast, this was almost… fun?  Willow could honestly say she’d never formed a miniature meteor before… or had grown-ass men and women flee from her screaming while her flames licked their bones clean.  Or discovered how strangely satisfying it felt when her hair caught on fire.  It was actually sort of pleasant after she’d leveled her Fire Resistance, like wearing an electric blanket on her head.  She’d never need a hat inside AO, that was for sure.

Willow was so occupied in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t notice that her mana had run out.  Her attention only snapped back into focus as her UI pinged, and a notification appeared in the air before her.

System Notice:  Spell Evolution

You have met the conditions to create a new spell: Meteor.

Honestly, we never thought anyone would be insane enough to try this…

Willow couldn’t help the inadvertent laugh that escaped her lips as she read that prompt.  She didn’t know she could combine existing spells to create something new.  Yet she could feel the words and gestures of the spell coiling through her mind now.  A simpler mixture than the one she’d used to maintain two channels.  Interesting.

Willow also hadn’t noticed what she’d created.

Lauren was staring at the Meteor with wide eyes and her mouth agape.  It now stretched dozens of feet across, the heat radiating off of it in waves as it hung suspended there, burning up the moisture of the cloud and forming massive tufts of steam that drifted ever upward… only to form new clouds as they cooled.

“I’m ready!” she shouted at the air mage.  “Where do I aim it?”

Lauren managed to pull her gaze away.  “At Dom!”

Willow must have heard her wrong.  “Where?”

Lauren pointed down at the tiny green dot below them.  Dom’s group icon floating there – by the gate leading into Aislen, no doubt.  He’d forgotten to mention that part…

Or maybe he hadn’t.  Dom must have decided she wouldn’t have gone along with this if he’d explained what he planned to do.  She could feel a coil of guilt slide through her stomach as she realized that must have been why Adrian was complaining.  Damn it.  And yet, she could only respect him more for keeping that info from her.

Dom might be her junior in age, but she could recognize a born leader when she saw one.  The way he guided this team of hopeless rejects.  Turning them into something more.  Something dangerous and maddening and unstoppable.  And there it was again – that burning excitement.  At the prospect of what he was building here.

“Two more potions!” Lauren screamed.  The girl was starting to look nervous.

That probably wasn’t a good sign.  She was as crazy and bloodthirsty as they came.

Willow let out a sigh.  She really, really hoped Dom knew what he was doing.

And it was with that final thought that she launched her spell.

***

Thud thud thud.  The drums beat a rhythm in the distance.  A metallic shriek added to the noise – a guitar solo heard by thousands of travelers and residents within Aislen.  And overtop it all was the wailing cry of a Battle Chicken.  Her croon a challenge to every living creature.

Dom could practically feel that hum in his veins as he faced off against the travelers.

Bolts of fire arced toward him, only for Dom to Thunderclap, sending the flames rushing back into the ring of metal that surrounded him.  Men and women screamed in pain where the fires touched their skin and heated their armor.  A bolt of lightning suddenly struck Dom, sending him hurtling into the nearby garrison building.  He crashed through the wall, debris tumbling down around him even as he shoved himself back upright.

A wave of icy spears followed, only for Dom to lift a piece of the wall – the wood still clinging together.  He used it as a shield as the ice smashed against the surface.  Wooden chips sprayed off the siding, the timber shuddering and cracking under the force.  Dom activated Bull Rush and promptly charged back out of the opening he’d carved in the building.  He raced into a crowd of foot soldiers who weren’t expecting him to emerge.  They were sent flying from the force of the impact and collided with the troops behind them, sending them all toppling.  A Fireball struck into the remains of the wooden shield, and it ignited immediately.

Acting quickly, Dom pivoted and hurled it at the ramparts like a giant flaming frisbee.  Mages screamed in warning, a gust of air stopping the flaming missile short, only for it to tumble to the ground below, crushing more soldiers beneath the flaming wood and pinning them to the ground.  Both smoke and screams billowed up from the courtyard as more travelers pressed in.  Reinforcements.  Dom just needed to buy more time.

Gather as many of <The Jackals> as he could.

Gather as many of those tokens as he could.

Maintain his stacks of Roll the Dice.

Suddenly, the soldiers backed off, forming a ring around him.  They filled the entire courtyard now and streamed back down the street – a river of flesh and metal.  Tower shields slammed into the dirt around him, forming a physical barrier.  Lightning crackled along the metal, and a dull glow infused their armor – mages on the wall buffing the soldiers.  Barriers of multi-colored energy had been erected around the casters now to protect them from Dom’s attacks.

The travelers were regrouping.  Organizing.

A dome of electricity suddenly settled around Dom, slowly shrinking toward him, and caging him in – preventing him from leaping to safety.  Half a dozen mages were channeling the spell in the distance – at the very edge of their control range.  A woman stood among them, matching the description that Lauren and Walt had given him.  That must be Nova.  Even more elemental shields and mundane metal guarded them.  And that was putting aside the sea of soldiers between them.  His luck was spiking even more.  Going crazy now.

Dom could see the officer’s plan.  Trap him.  Stun him.  Then kill him.

It was smart.  Nova must have used the initial group as cannon fodder to set this up.

His chat pinged, and a grin tugged at Dom’s lips, mirroring the smile painted across his mask.  Unfortunately for Nova, it was too late.

Then he heard it.  The first shout of alarm.  A traveler pointing up at the sky.  Others followed the gesture only to see what appeared to be a massive sun descending upon Aislen.  More cries were filling the air now, mixing with Adrian’s battle melody.

Now came the tricky part.

Dom crouched, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply…

Shit, this is going to hurt.

Then he launched forward.  He paused as he struck the lightning field.  But only briefly.  His momentum soon sent him hurtling through.  He landed on the other side, smoke coiling away from his suit and the cloth already beginning to repair itself.  The travelers’ focus was back on him now.  It had to be.  He would make sure of that.  He knew Lauren and Willow would freefall down with the Fireball.  Willow could guide it then.  Ensure it struck its target squarely.

He Leaped and landed amid the travelers.  He wasn’t trying to kill them now.  Just stun and incapacitate.  Break the travelers’ formation and prevent them from running.  He let out a Challenging Shout, the soldiers smashing their palms to their ears in pain, blood soon trickling between their fingers.  But Dom was already moving again.  Leap and shout.  Leap and shout.

The travelers’ formation was breaking down, those elemental barriers flickering and fading.  A few mages tried to muster together something – anything – to blunt that giant ball of flaming death that was hurtling toward them.  But it wouldn’t be enough.  Not without the casters acting in concert; not with Dom putting pressure on them.

A few well-placed tokens and those defensive spells stuttered and died with their casters.  More mages turned their spells on Dom.  The archers launched a hail fire of missiles.  But with Dom moving so quickly, most of those bolts struck their own teammates.  Dom lifted one man, using him as a shield to block a Fireball before sending him flailing back into the other soldiers like a human battering ram, knocking them aside.

“Kill me if you can!  This is your chance!  Are you really that afraid to die?” Dom roared, his voice booming out across the courtyard as he activated Challenging Shout one final time.

He stood in place, his arms wide and his palms open.  He didn’t try to resist anymore.  Just let the spells and missiles strike him – cut through his suit and into his skin.  Ice, lightning, and fire flayed his body.  The woolen suit was promptly blasted apart, revealing thick skin crisscrossed with layer upon layer of scar tissue.  He felt the pain radiate out through his body.  A dull thing.  He’d trained for this moment with his team.  His guildmates.

He was their tank, after all.

And the travelers accepted his offer – whipped into a frenzy that even had them ignoring the falling sun overhead.  What was a single death if it meant beating this man that had cost them so much?  Nova’s voice screamed across the courtyard on mana-enhanced winds, calling for a retreat.  A ceasefire.  For shields to protect the courtyard.

However, her words landed on deaf ears, an ocean of travelers racing at Dom.

He could feel his skin sliced, stabbed, and skewered.  Fire and ice ate into muscle.  Lightning crackled through his very bones.  Yet Dom remained standing through it all.  Endured it all.  Stared his gods-damned death in the face with a fucking smile.  And amid all of that chaos, the barrage of swords, spells, and arrows… he received a notice.

New Ability:  Undying

Your training has progressed to the point where you have begun to surpass human limits – whether that’s due to determination or madness is up for debate.  Regardless, just when the enemy thinks they have your life in their hands… that’s when you smile in the face of death.

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 1

Effect:  1.00% damage resistance per 10% missing health.

Dom just grunted and swiped aside the prompt, noticing that he could see the bones of his fingers, the limb only barely responsive now.

He also felt strangely warm.

The heat only grew.  Until it became intense.  Oppressive.  It radiated outward in waves, the dry, broken timber strewn across the courtyard igniting.  Travelers tried to run then.  Tried to flee.  To scream.  Only for the heat to rip the air from their lungs.  For his part, Dom simply looked skyward at the true majesty of Willow’s spellcasting combined with Lauren’s teleportation.  A glorious shining synergy of raw power.  They had created a meteor and launched it straight at him.  A siege level spell created by two casters.  And it was a thing of beauty.

That was the last thought that crossed his mind before that spell blasted him apart and a shining blue notice suddenly hung in the air before him.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

Chapter 50 - Undying

Tom blinked blearily.  His ears were ringing.  His eyes watering.  Smoke curled around him.  His entire body hurt.  Burned was more accurate.  And the flashing red notifications in the corner of his vision did indeed confirm he was suffering from burns over most of his body.  He tried feebly to tug off his armor – the metal overheated – only for that to send another ripple of pain coursing through him.

Welded to my skin, he thought feebly.  His protection turned into a deadly cage.

As he finally blinked the smoke from his eyes, he could see he was lying amid burnt wreckage.  The entire area around him had been blasted apart.  The gate was just… gone.  All that was left was a deep impact crater and hundreds of blackened skeletons – their bodies seared against stone and contorted in pain.  His teammates, he realized suddenly.

More bones and scorched timber lay across him, dull red embers still smoldering.  He must have gotten lucky.  The other soldiers and a fragment of the nearby building must have blunted most of the blast – coupled with his armor and the buffs the casters had used to bolster his physical stats, vitality, and health regeneration.  Yet now, with pain riddling his body and his health dropping steadily, he wondered if he’d really been all that fortunate.  He’d be dead soon anyway.

Just like the others.  Except it would just take longer.

And now he didn’t even have the strength to end his own life…

Although, one thought gave Tom some solace.

One figure was missing.  The spot where Dom had been standing was empty – the spot where he’d taken on their entire raid group stationed at the gate by him-fucking-self and wearing nothing but a freaking suit and mask.

“At least… we killed the asshole,” Tom ground out, his voice hoarse as he sunk back into the ash, wincing as he jostled his burned limbs again.

A sudden sound echoed through the clearing, and Tom glanced up, drawing in a sharp breath that rattled in his seared lungs.  A multi-colored rift had formed in the center of the crater.  A respawn portal, by the looks of it.  But that was impossible… wasn’t it?  This wasn’t a respawn point.  Travelers should only be able to return in the courtyard or at a dungeon entrance.

But those thoughts were soon blown away like so much ash on the wind.

Black suit – the wool pressed flat across a body that seemed too large to be human.  That fabric concealing the dense muscle Tom knew lingered just beneath the surface.  Feet that landed a bit too heavy, sending up puffs of ash that swirled and spiraled around his legs, drifting up toward that brilliant white mask – a familiar red smile painted across the ivory surface and a single tear dripping from one eye.

Dom stepped out of the portal at a leisurely pace.  He paused only briefly before striding further inside Aislen, weaving his way amid the corpses and wreckage of the gate without sparing a second glance at the bodies.

Tom had been through the wringer since playing this game.  Of course, he had.  After all, he’d started in Aislen.  And so, he’d died a LOT – in many and varied ways.  He’d been ripped apart by ravenous beasts.  Stood alone against a creature that clearly was some sort of triceratops only to be promptly impaled on stone spikes.  He’d been poisoned, bled, stabbed, beaten, and eaten.  He’d endured it all.  Wrapped himself in steel and layers of spells until he could endure it all.  Until he was no longer afraid to lead the charge.

Yet as he lay there, staring at that man… Tom felt afraid.

But it was more than that.  More than simple dread.  It was a deep-seated despair.  A realization of the gap between them.  A rift so large that he would never be able to cross it.  No amount of gear or magic could bridge that divide.  No sharp-fanged beast or armored dinosaur could hold a candle to what he’d just witnessed.

That man was a true monster.

Which is why Tom lay very still as Dom tread close, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes closed – praying to every god he could think of that he wouldn’t be noticed.  He only let out that breath when he could no longer hear Dom’s footsteps.  Although, he still couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes again.  To see that carnage.  That reminder.

And so, it was in darkness that Tom received a final notice.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

***

Dom stretched his neck as he stepped through the remains of the courtyard, bone popping and snapping.  He could still feel phantom burns rippling down his limbs.  Even his brief respawns usually gave him a chance to recover from each death – a few minutes, at least.  Returning immediately was a bit more… intense, especially after being battered by <The Jackals> and then blown apart by Willow’s meteor.

He glanced at the notifications in the corner of his vision to distract himself.

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Deathwish

Skill Level:  Master Level 2

Effect 1:  46% Increased Respawn Speed (Currently 11.2 minutes).

Effect 2:  7.5% chance to respawn immediately.

Effect 3:  Automatic respawn chance now applies per Roll the Dice stack.  A respawn chance higher than 100% grants temporary access to the casino’s outfitter.

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Roll the Dice

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 3

Effect 1:  +1 increased luck per kill.  Max stacks of 14.  Duration 15 seconds.  Refreshes on kill.  Multiplicative with the effects of Chaotic Blessing.  All stacks lost on death.

Effect 2:  +.60% damage and global damage resist per stack.

Deathwish had hit Intermediate some time ago, which granted him a chance to respawn immediately on death.  It wasn’t a terribly high chance.  Which made it erratic at best.  It was mostly useful to increase the uptime on his training – not something he could rely on in a pinch.

However, once he’d obtained Master level in Deathwish, that had all changed.  Specifically, his chance to respawn immediately now scaled with his stacks of Roll the Dice.  And as he gained ranks in Roll the Dice, that chance kept climbing up toward 100%.  In fact, just before he’d made the leap into Aislen, he’d had a 91% to respawn immediately – assuming, of course, that he maintained all 13 stacks of Roll the Dice.

Technically, there was still a chance he wouldn’t have respawned back there.  A 9% chance that his plan could have gone to shit.  That he’d have been forced to make a “run of shame” back from Boomtown.  Or he might have failed to get the kills or collect the coins, in which case, his odds would have been even worse.  Or he might have mistimed everything.  The 15-second duration didn’t give him much leeway.

But, well, Dom had faced worse odds.  He was rolling the dice with his life every day.  So, what was one more gamble, really?  Either way, it had all worked out.

Which meant it was time to move to the next stage of his plan.

Dom walked down the street at a casual pace, heading west – a familiar destination in mind.  He wasn’t going for speed.  This wasn’t a race.  This wasn’t a fight that could be won purely by casualties.  Booker had waged this war by targeting Dom and the goblins’ infrastructure.  That was one option.  Dom was going to try something different – take a page out of that Jason kid’s book.  He was going to destroy their spirit.

And to do that… he needed to make a fucking point.

He rounded a bend in the road and saw more soldiers running down the road toward him.  They must have respawned, or possibly Booker had sent reinforcements to the gate after the raid group there had been completely wiped out along with his officer.  Not that it really mattered.

Those players hesitated as they saw Dom, silence lingering across the road.

“Is… is that Dom?  How the fuck—?” a traveler muttered.

Dom didn’t give them time to mull over his miraculous resurrection.  He rocketed forward in a blur of movement.  The travelers all braced for impact, but Dom simply crouched at the last minute and Leaped over their heads – spells and missiles whistling past and the travelers craning their necks to follow his movement.  They heard the tink tink tink of something striking the ground, and they all looked down around their ankles.

“Oh, shit—”

Then the grenades detonated in sequence, blasting apart the street and cobblestones and spraying the remains of the travelers across the adjacent walls, painting them a bright red.  Coupled with Improvisation… the effects were brutal.  Metal shrapnel blew past Dom as he struck the ground, rising back to his feet and continuing his slow jog.  He picked a stray piece of metal from his shoulder and dropped it on the ground.  The ripped cloth stitched itself closed moments later.

He’d purchased those grenades from the Outfitter before he’d launched the siege on the city.  And now that he could obtain a few more stacks on Roll the Dice… well, it looked like he was about to become a frequent shopper.  The only downside was that the Gambler had imposed a new rule.  Dom couldn’t purchase the same thing twice in the same 24 hours.  He said this was supposed to help “spice things up.”

Not that Dom was too worried.  He could get creative if he had to.

Shouts of alarm were rising now.  Word must be spreading.

Dom was still alive and heading west.

Residents were peering down into the street through open windows – likely alerted by the explosions.  They watched him with wide eyes, cowering behind flimsy wooden sills.

More travelers were spilling down the street now, but Dom could only feel the hum of adrenaline in his veins.  The pounding thud of his heartbeat.  He rushed forward again, activating Bull Rush, and slamming into a wagon perched along the street.  The force of the impact sent it spinning into the onrushing wave of soldiers, knocking them aside.  Then Dom Leaped into their midst, letting out another Challenging Shout before ripping into the group, coins showering the area like golden rain – only to be snatched up with nimble fingers.

Lightning suddenly slammed into Dom’s body, his suit burning away and skin sizzling even as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably.  The casters just kept blasting him over and over again, each bolt crashing into Dom.  However, moments later, the barrage stopped, his health outlasting their mana apparently.  He still stood there, smoke coiling off his skin, his chest heaving… but alive.  He’d been training his Lightning Resistance with Lauren extensively – letting her electrocute him over and over.

More casters were forming walls of ice and fire at his back now.  Trying to trap him.  Buy time for the fresh batch of soldiers that were charging down the road toward him.

Dom just grunted.  He was sitting at roughly 30% resistance to most damage types right now with full stacks of Roll the Dice.  And the more they hurt him – the further his health dropped – the more his damage resistance kept increasing under the effects of Undying. And then there was Chaotic Blessing, his luck multiplier only climbing as his odds of dying increased.

He didn’t plan to retreat.

The soldiers rushed him – likely thinking that he’d been weakened by the caster.  A sword swung toward Dom, and he ducked at the last moment.  He shoved the soldier off balance, and lightning crashed into the man’s shield, reflecting off the metal surface as Dom’s luck came to his aid once again.  The electricity lanced along a nearby storefront and ate into the walls, blasting them apart.  The roof began to destabilize and shift, the tiles sliding away as the air mages scrambled to retreat in a series of mana-assisted hops.  But that initial barrage of lightning had cost them.  They only made it a short distance before their mana gave out, and they began to fall to the street below, landing in a series of dull thuds and the telltale crack of bone.

Mana conservation is important, Dom thought to himself.

It’s why he’d drilled it into his teammates over and over again.

The remaining soldiers in the street were staring wide-eyed now as the entire building began to collapse and flames sprung from the wood where the lightning had ignited the dry timber.  Dom took the opportunity to snap a soldier’s neck and picked up another coin to reset the duration on Roll the Dice… only to look up sharply as he heard screams above him.

Dom could see a father and his son in the second-story window.  Residents then.  They must own the store and live above it.  “Damn it,” he grunted.

Acting without thinking, he leaped forward, snatching the pair from the window, and then falling back down to the street, even as the building collapsed at his back.  The travelers in the street were trying to flee now – not wanting to be buried under the rubble.  That wouldn’t do.

“Cover your ears,” Dom barked at the pair, and they followed his instructions.

He released a Challenging Shout, the soldiers stopping short and smashing their palms to their ears in pain as the building collapsed around them, Dom hovering protectively over the pair of residents.  The debris crashed down upon him and swiftly buried him beneath the rubble.  Yet he refused to relent, to give up, shoving back against a mountain of wood and stone and tile.  He ground his teeth even as red notifications flashed in the corner of his vision and darkness consumed him.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

Dom lurched back into the world with a gasp…

He was standing atop the remains of the building.  A yellow waypoint marker hovered just below his feet – a product of his quick thinking.  He ripped the burning wood and tiles free, ignoring the burns along his palms.  He soon revealed the father and son perched in a small pocket – his ragged corpse hovering over them protectively, his reinforced bones having managed to survive the crushing force of the building.

They stared at him in horror and fascination, but he didn’t have time to explain.

Dom ripped them free of the debris and pushed them down the street toward the gate.

“Run.  Now,” that was all he could manage.

More travelers were already racing down the road from the west.  The ones he’d killed back at the gates would be respawning soon, too, if they hadn’t already.  Those travelers could only stare at the destruction Dom had caused in the street.  Bodies strewn about the road.  A building collapsed and burning.  He could see their questions written across their faces.  Was he cheating?  Hacking?  Some sort of magic or illusion?  How the hell did he keep coming back?

Too bad they didn’t know how he was respawning – how to counter his skill.  Didn’t understand that they were the ones making this possible.  The way they kept coming at him, blinded by their anger.  Charging him over and over again and each death buying him another 15 seconds of immortality.  After all, he’d made sure to keep this secret close to the chest.

Not unlike Booker… or the Gambler.  More secrets and bloodshed.

No matter how much he tried to resist it – to push back at Booker’s logic… at the Gambler’s…  He just kept sliding further and further into the murky gray quicksand of their morality.  There was no right or wrong.  No correct path.  There was just survival.  Clawing and scraping your way to the surface however you could.  How the hell were you going to help anyone else free of that mire if you couldn’t even help yourself?

Dom paced calmly down the mound of debris – a grin painted across his mask and a bloody tear streaming down one cheek as he strode toward his enemies, watching more than a few take a tentative step back.  And behind them were hundreds more.  He cracked his knuckles as a familiar hum of adrenaline welled in his chest.  And with it came a sense of guilt that made his rationalization ring hollow.  Maybe he was just lying to himself.  Telling himself what he needed to hear to justify his actions.

Because shit, if he was honest… he was also having fun.

Chapter 51 - Hostile Takeover

Booker was having a really bad day.

He stood atop the ramparts that surrounded the starting courtyard, his eyes pointed to the east.  He’d planned for any number of contingencies.  An assault on the city.  Goblins invading.  Explosives planted at the base of this island.  Infiltration by sea or air.  Hell, even those fucking rockets had been on his radar – they just hadn’t gotten close enough to activate their air shields.  Once the goblins had demonstrated that they could work with gunpowder and Dom was allied with them… well, anything was on the table.

But he could honestly say he hadn’t expected this.

He was watching Dom walk slowly west.  He didn’t waver.  Didn’t deviate.  He wasn’t leading an army.  By all accounts, he was alone and unarmed.

Although, there were actually a few conflicting reports there.  Some of his guildmates had reported strange weapons.  Grenades?  At one point, Dom had thrown a barrel of oil – which Booker’s own fire mages had accidentally ignited – and killed off an entire group of soldiers, burning them alive.  One player was insisting in guild chat that he’d been killed with a rubber chicken.  Another kept claiming that Dom had stuck them to the ground with something that smelled like bubblegum.

As if this day could get any crazier…  Booker took a long pull on his cigarette, watching Dom mow through another batch of his men, screams echoing in the distance.

A single question kept circling through his mind – piercing through all of the chaos.

“What the hell is his goal?” Booker muttered, his brow furrowed.

“Who the fuck cares?”  Sean ground out, Nova perched beside him.  “Let’s just go kill the asshole and be done with all of this.”

“You’ve seen what the others are saying.  Killing him isn’t the problem.  He’s not staying dead,” Nova ground out.  “Hell, I fucking saw him get nuked at the gate.  And yet here he is.”

“Maybe he’s just fast.  Bound himself to a dungeon near the city,” Sean retorted.  “Or maybe this is just bullshit – smoke and mirrors.  We know he has an ice witch that can cast illusions.  Queen or whatever her name is.  What if this is just his team fucking with us?”

An explosion rocked the street, and the screams cut off abruptly.

“That look like a damn illusion to you?” Nova demanded, waving at the road.

Sean grimaced.  Then he side-eyed Booker.  He’d been more reserved since the guild leader had given him that public beating.  At least a modicum of respect shone in his eyes, now accompanied by a resentment that would no doubt cause issues later… assuming they survived this.  “You got anything to add, oh fearless leader?” Sean bit out sarcastically.

Booker just shook his head slowly.  Even now, he could see dozens of more travelers spilling out of the courtyard’s gates and Dom making a beeline straight toward them.  The flow of human bodies continued increasing as Dom kept killing them off, and they respawned back here.  Their entire guild had descended into chaos.  Even the travelers Booker had stationed along the city walls had given up their positions, moving to reinforce their teammates at the courtyard.

His brow furrowed as he stared at his map and then looked off toward the city walls.  Despite the city now being left largely defenseless, the goblins hadn’t made a move.  No one was reporting attacks from the neighboring islands.  Not only that, but no one had seen the other members of <Death and Taxes>.

Booker breathed out a wreath of smoke, closing his eyes.  He needed to start over… start fresh.  He couldn’t get inside Dom’s head – he was just reacting like the rest of the guild.

Dom didn’t plan to kill the residents.  Didn’t plan to destroy the city.  That was clear from the way he’d warned the residents to hide inside and seemed to be trying to mitigate damage to the adjacent structures as best he could.

He was only hellbent on ending the guild.

And he was marching directly toward the starting courtyard.

But the guild’s members couldn’t die – not really.  They just kept coming back… at the courtyard.  So, this position was getting increasingly defensible with each step he took.  And even if he made it here, what then?  This was a battle he couldn’t ever really hope to win.

Hell, the only way he could accomplish his goal is if they voluntarily—

“Oh, shit!” Booker grunted, his eyes snapping open.  It was so obvious now.  How the fuck had he missed it?

“What?” Nova demanded.  Sean was watching him now, too.

“We need to stop him from getting to this courtyard,” Booker said, his voice harried and his cigarette tumbling to the ground forgotten.  “We need to send everything we have right now.  CC the shit out of him.  Blow the buildings around him if you have to.  Collateral damage doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But why—” Sean began, eyeing him in surprise.  They’d never seen Booker look so flustered, his calm legendary among the guild.

“No time,” Booker interjected.  “Go now!” he shouted as he noticed his officers hadn’t moved.  They finally shook off their alarm.

“Fine.  I’ve been waiting for my rematch anyway,” Sean ground out as the pair leaped down from the walls, lightning crackling around their bodies.

As the officers departed, Booker flagged down an air mage and began frantically relaying instructions.  With a flicker of amber energy, the guild’s respawning members were directed to form up in the courtyard.  Mages took positions along the walls and began creating layer after layer of elemental shields around their position – towering walls of ice, fire, electricity, and stone.  As more of their members kept respawning, Booker would use them to fortify this location.

They couldn’t afford to let Dom inside.

As the soldiers grouped up, all eyes were on the street in the distance.  They murmured amongst themselves – their expressions more confused or excited than truly concerned.  Sure, they were talking about Dom’s strength.  How he seemed to be freaking immortal.  How he might be hacking… as laughable as that idea was.  But they were all fucking clueless.  That was just the tip of the iceberg, one that threatened to destroy everything Booker had built and drown them all in a sea of blood.

These men and women around him didn’t understand why they were fortifying this courtyard or what that meant.  They weren’t thinking of this place like Booker.  Or Dom.  They saw it as just another game.  And, to some extent, they were right.  However, the idea that those rules might backfire on them?  That the realism and pain and complexity of this world might be their own undoing?

That hadn’t sunk in.  Not yet, anyway.

Maybe it took a special sort of person to make that mental leap.  Someone willing to entirely abandon the real world in exchange for something new.  Someone open to a new life, a new way of living.

Regardless, while the guild members murmured in excitement, the courtyard abuzz, Booker watched with a pit in his stomach.  He traced the movements of Nova and Sean and their remaining forces as they moved to engage Dom, peering overtop the layers of defenses that now encircled his position.

He just hoped it would be enough.

***

Dom stomped down.  Hard.  His foot caved in a player’s skull, flipping a coin up into the air, which Dom snatched with an easy grace – only to shove it into his bag.

The starting courtyard was in sight now, the structure encircled by rows of defensive spells.  Towering walls of stone, flame, lightning, and ice.  A flickering amber shield had also settled over the top, barely visible at this distance.  It seemed they didn’t want him leaping inside either.  That wasn’t a problem.  Dom didn’t intend to take the easy way out.

That’s certainly not how he’d made it this far.

The pounding thud of boots pulled his eyes back to the street.  A final force, the rest of the guild holing up in the courtyard now.  And among them were familiar faces.  Nova and Sean were leading a band of nearly a hundred players – mages, soldiers, archers.  They slowed as they approached, taking in Dom’s appearance.  His suit, now stained with blood.  His ivory mask flecked with crimson.

And behind him?  Dom had left a wake of carnage.  Shattered buildings and stalls.  Fire and ice littering the cobblestone.  Dozens upon dozens of bodies.  Slunk against walls.  Littering the ground.  Smashed against wooden beams and hanging from third-story windows.

A red sea parted by a single man.

From beneath the frozen smile on his mask, he stared back at them with that same eerie calm.

“Finally, we meet again,” Sean ground out, mustering what confidence he could in the face of the overwhelming evidence of Dom’s might.

“And here I thought you might have learned your lesson after volunteering as Wingman’s snack,” Dom answered.  No doubt, Sean was buying time.  Allowing his guildmates to flank Dom along the side streets and approach from the rear.

14 seconds left on his Roll the Dice stacks…

Sean’s face contorted with fury.  “I’ve had about enough of your bullshit.  I don’t know what the fuck your plan is here or how you’re pulling this off.  But you can bet your ass you’re going to get mass reported for… for whatever the hell this is,” Sean retorted, waving at the street behind Dom.  “We’re going to get your account fucking banned.”

12 seconds.

“Hmph,” Dom snorted.  “So, you still think I’m cheating.  I suppose that makes sense.  It’s an easier pill to swallow than the idea that you suck.  That you’ll never quite… measure up.”

Rage flashed in Sean’s eyes, his swords appearing in hand.  “I could take you.  It’s not like we’ve had a chance to fight – just the two of us.”

Dom cocked his head.  “You know, you’re actually right.  I haven’t really given you a fair shake, have I?  A fight, man to man?  And if you really think I’m cheating, I’ll even give myself a handicap.”  He spread his arms wide.  “I’ll give you one free shot.”

Sean hesitated then, looking for some sort of trick.  Then his gaze slid to his guildmates.  They looked back, noticing him pause and murmuring to themselves.  Hell, why not?  The man was giving their raid leader a free hit?  With his strength and gear, he should be able to take him out in one blow.  So, what was he waiting for?

10 seconds.

Sean swallowed hard.  Dom hadn’t left him a choice.  Pride flared in his chest.  He’d already been humiliated twice – first by getting eaten by a chicken after that bard sucker-punched him, then again by his own raid leader in front of his guildmates.  He couldn’t afford a third.  So, Sean stepped forward.

Nova rested a hand on his shoulder.  “Sean.  You shouldn’t.  I don’t know his play here, but it looks like he’s baiting you.”

He shrugged her off.  “I only need one hit,” he grunted.  “Everyone else, stand back!” he added in a louder voice.  Nova was frowning now.

8 seconds.

Dom hadn’t moved an inch, and his arms were still spread wide.  He didn’t make any motion when Sean began to charge his mana, electricity crackling across his body and down his arms.  Dom only watched as that energy grew denser – stronger.  Sean had apparently been holding back.  Or maybe he’d learned a new application for his spell.  Something more single-target focused?

Dom still didn’t move – a well-tailored statue.

7 seconds.

The energy around Sean was lashing out in every direction now, lancing down the metal of his swords as he dropped into a crouch.  The lightning licked at the ground and carved furrows in the stone, kicking up dust and debris – static electricity crackling through the cloud.

6 seconds.

Sean suddenly flew forward.  He flashed along on a stream of energy – perhaps a modified version of Lauren’s teleport that had been weaponized into a lunging electrical slash.  Clever.  He raced at Dom, his swords pulled back, preparing for a sweeping double blow, the metal lined up with Dom’s neck.  A cloud of lightning swept out behind Sean and ripped up a line of dirt and stone in his wake.

An explosion of energy rocked the street as Sean struck, releasing a blinding white light.  The lightning blasted outward in an expanding ring and tore into the surrounding buildings.  The energy lit more of the aged wood ablaze and kicked up dust and ash that only added to the fog that now drifted across the street.  As that blast slowly began to fade and the stiff winds began to blow the debris away, the rest of <The Jackals> looked on in fascination.

Dom still stood there, his fingers wrapped around Sean’s blades.  That was strange enough.  But what he was wearing on his hands was even more odd.  They looked like… rubber gloves?  The lightning lashed at that material feebly, having no effect.  Arcs of energy occasionally tore at Dom’s suit and body, but he showed no signs of pain or alarm.

“The fuck is this?” Sean muttered.  “You said you wouldn’t move.”

Dom nodded, clucking his tongue.  “Yeah, about that… I lied.”

He moved quickly now, releasing a sword and pivoting out of the way.  Dom used his now free hand to strike Sean’s wrist, which folded with a snap of bone.  A sword dropped from the raid leader’s hand, falling ever-so-slowly through the air.  In one fluid motion, Dom’s other hand released the second sword, snatched an item from his waist, and brought it forward before catching the blade with his first hand.  A moment later, something had cinched around Sean’s broken fingers and Dom’s left hand, binding them together.

The raid leader stared down in surprise.  “What the hell?”

“Uh, sort of like a Chinese finger trap… but bigger,” Dom explained.

He’d had plenty of chances to redeem his coins for prizes at the Outfitter during all of this.  Some were pretty crazy.  Technically, the rubber gloves weren’t a purchase per se.  He’d just snatched them from the god’s mop bucket.  Believe it or not, the Gambler had been more than happy to part with them – something about never cleaning a bathroom again.

2 seconds.

Sean looked at him like he’d gone mad – a question painted across his face.

“Oh, you’re wondering why?” Dom asked.  “No problem.  I’ll show you.”

With that, he pivoted and swung himself into a spin with vicious force, hurling Sean off his feet.  His lightning aura was still in effect, flickering across his body.  Sean also still held one blade and Dom the other.  The effect was to form a whirling circle of lightning and steel.  Dom had been intrigued with the ability ever since he’d seen Sean use it to murder the goblins all of those days and weeks ago.  And he’d also had ample time to ponder on how he wanted to get even.

This seemed fitting.  Using Sean and his own ability against his teammates.

The whirlwind was growing now, forming a column of swiftly moving air – lightning crackling through it.  Then Dom pitched forward toward the raid.  The whirlwind lurched into motion as the players began to shout in alarm.  But it was too late.  Dom and Sean struck with terrible force, rending flesh and metal.  The lightning stunned the players, leaving them unable to defend themselves.  And as they died, the coins were whipped up into the maelstrom, Dom catching one between his teeth just to refresh the buff timer.

10 seconds later, Dom skidded to a halt.

Sean was still hooked to him, his head listing to the side and wobbling slightly.  As they slowed, the raid leader finally had the presence of mind to drop his spell – although that might have also been shock.  The lightning faded, and his blade dropped from numb fingers.  Only the electricity had been keeping his grip locked in place.  Dom’s blade soon followed to the rattle of metal.  Behind them lay several dozen corpses.

“I think we’re done now,” Dom said, staring down at Sean.

The man tried to look at him, his expression fracturing.

Then Dom punched him.  Once and his skull caved in.  When he pulled his fist free, another chip was resting in his palm – refreshing Roll the Dice once more.

With a sigh, Dom ripped the cuff from his hand, the material shredding easily now that the other player was dead.  Some of the Outfitter’s items had rules.  Mutators, he kept calling them.

Dom looked up to find Nova fleeing back toward the courtyard, the rest of her teammates following suit.  It seemed she was wiser than Sean.  But Dom couldn’t afford to let her set more traps – not after Lauren and Walt had described her skillset.

He launched forward, his luck proccing at the last moment and sending him stumbling, his toes sliding in a puddle of blood… which is why he just missed one of Nova’s traps.  A cage of lightning swept up on empty air just as she pivoted to look behind her, triumph shining in her eyes.

Only to see Dom skid into a nearby wall, crashing through the barrier to the sound of cracking wood.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he slammed to a stop, pulling himself up and out of the debris.  That had shaved off a chunk of health.  Was that really better than getting trapped?

But as long as he was here…

Crouching, Dom rocketed upward, blasting through the ceiling, then the next floor.  He crashed upward, silently praying he didn’t accidentally take out a resident family.  He soon shot up and out of the roof to a spray of shingles.  Nova’s eyes craned skyward, blinking hard against the harsh sunlight that shone down upon her.  She couldn’t see Dom.

“Oh, fuck,” Nova muttered.  She frantically began casting layer after layer of electrical traps around herself, completely disregarding her teammates.  Their screams filled the air as they were caught in her energy fields, and the muted stench of burnt flesh followed close behind.

Still, she kept casting.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Dom had torn a piece of framing free from the wall on his way out of the building, and he streaked downward, face first, holding the chunk of wall like a battering ram.  He rocketed through the first trap… then the second… then the third.  Lightning flayed and cut at his body, causing his muscles to twitch and spasm despite his Lightning Resistance.  But just like at the gate, those barriers had trouble stopping his momentum.

Dom landed like a human comet, spraying up dirt and debris in every direction, the blast sending up an avalanche of dust.  He rose from the remains, red notifications flickering in the corner of his vision.  He was injured, and Undying had kicked in again, stacking with Roll the Dice.  He pushed himself upright with a grunt.

Nova lay there on the ground, a wooden beam impaling her torso and blood pooling around the wound.  She moved to cast, but Dom broke her arm… then the other.  Nova let out a gurgling gasp of pain, and her eyes met his.

“Kill… me,” she ground out.

Dom raised an eyebrow at that.  This woman had hurt Lauren and Walt and now wanted mercy?  Even more strange, he found that he felt… nothing at all.  Once upon a time, he might have experienced some guilt at this scene.  Now it was just necessary.  To survive.  To ensure his own happiness and that of his friends and teammates.

“No, no, I don’t think I will.  I need to delay your respawn,” Dom answered.

Then he turned away and started heading toward the starting courtyard where the rest of <The Jackals> lingered.

Now only Booker was left.

***

Booker swallowed hard as he saw Sean’s raid icon go gray.  Twenty minutes for him to return.  He glanced at Nova’s group, an explosion blasting along the street in the distance.  She was still alive but bleeding out slowly.  She must be trapped.  So, her respawn would likely take even longer.  His officers wouldn’t be able to reinforce him.  Not anymore.

A lone man stepped out of that cloud of rubble and debris in the distance.  Wearing that same damn suit and that fucking mask.  He walked toward the courtyard at a leisurely pace, seemingly unconcerned by their defenses.

The tone along the ramparts had changed again.  Excitement and curiosity had turned to anger as they saw the raid group taken out before their very eyes.  No one could deny what was happening at this stage.  This wasn’t secondhand gossip.  This was reality.  One man was decimating their guild.  Spells and missiles whistled through the air, the travelers not waiting for Booker’s signal.  They wanted revenge now after getting beaten down again and again.

Dom launched forward, veering through the street in a zigzag pattern as missiles sprayed down around him.  Some landed – causing a limb to jerk out of place – only to send him into a spin before he recovered his footing and kept coming.  Then he was nearing the wall of stone.  Instead of leaping over it or going around it… Dom just kept coming.  The barriers were now acting against the players, blocking their missiles, and Dom vanished from view.

His fists soon struck at the stone.  Again.  And again.  Deep, resounding booms echoed from each blast.  The earth mages channeled more mana into the stone to repair the damage, but Dom just quickened his pace to match.

Boom, boom, boom, boom.  Already, the rock was beginning to crack.

A chunk suddenly exploded outward, and Dom stepped through that hole without hesitation.

He raced at the wall of ice, barely visible through the semi-translucent surface.  This time, Dom snatched a beam from a nearby stall.  He smashed into the ice with incredible force.  The players began raining fire and ice on him from above, sprinkled with the occasional lightning bolt.  Yet Dom just endured it all.  The wall immediately soon began to shatter as he beat the beam against the surface of the barricade like a damn battering ram.

Then, that wall fell too – exploding apart into giant chunks of ice.

Silence had descended upon the ramparts.  Dom was still moving.  His skin was seared, his suit torn, and blood was leaking into the cloth.  They’d hurt him – that much was clear.  But it wasn’t enough to take him down.

He walked up to the wall of electricity next and then looked up at the ramparts, eyeing the players there.  As he stared at them, with that eerie smiling mask, Dom simply stepped into the wall of energy.  His muscles convulsed.  His skin burned.  Smoke curled into the air.  Yet, he was still moving.  Somehow still taking one ponderous step after another.

He stumbled as he finally stepped out of that barrier, smoke streaming off his body.  His suit was gone, burned away to reveal ragged flesh and burned welts.  And beneath that, ropes of muscle – the product of relentless training.  Thousands of deaths.

Dom took a deep breath and then kept pushing.

He walked forward toward the final wall of fire, his form briefly obscured once again.

The same thought echoed through the travelers’ minds.  Who the fuck was this guy?

Dom soon stepped out of the fires, letting out a monstrous roar.  His skin had been burnt to a crisp until it was almost black.  He limped along on limbs that had been savaged and beaten.  Yet that damn mask still remained.  Still smiled in the face of his own agony.  Not a single player was moving now.  The whole crowd just stared in mute shock.

Booker swallowed hard.  “Stop… Stop him!” he shouted.  “We have to stop him from entering the courtyard.”  Little could he have known that this was his only chance.  The seconds were swiftly ticking down on Dom’s Roll the Dice stacks.

The guild members lurched back into motion, pelting him with bolts of elemental energy and arrows.  Booker joined them.  His fingers twitched as he took control of the smoke kicked up by the wall of fire.  Shadow clones soon materialized, slicing into his arms until they hung limp.  Yet Dom never hesitated.  With his arms useless, he used the only move he had left.  He shouted.  The sound ripped from his flayed throat and smoke-ravaged lungs.  It was a savage thing, almost inhuman.  But enough to blow away the smoke and create a clear pocket of air.

As the debris was blown away, the extent of Dom’s injuries was on full display.  Muscle and bone were exposed.  He was dripping blood in torrents.  A living skeleton.  One that still kept moving forward.

“Good gods,” Booker muttered, a twinge of respect echoing in his chest.

One that left him frozen even as his teammates kept trying to kill Dom.

Dom had mentioned having no choice.  That he needed this game – this contract.  But even after everything, Booker hadn’t appreciated the true extent of that motivation.

What could possibly be worth this?  Could be worse than this?

Did Booker really have what it took to push himself this far?

Until he was merely a pile of animated bones?

He wasn’t sure.

Dom took one last step, his foot landing just inside the courtyard.  As spells battered him and players respawned and raced toward him, Dom simply stood there.  One arm rose with painstaking slowness, barely held together with sinewy, bloody muscle.  His fingers twitched.

And that was enough.  That was more than enough.

Booker already knew what was coming – a sick feeling in his stomach.

Immediately, Dom sunk to the ground, finally dying under a barrage of steel and magic.  The players just kept going, blasting and slicing away at his corpse.  They let out roars of victory.  Like they’d won.  And maybe, in their heads, they had.  But Booker knew better.

It would only be moments now—

A flash of emerald energy.  Of lightning.  The telltale flicker of fire.

Masked faces suddenly stood amongst Booker’s troops as their illusions rippled and faded.  Their faces were covered in ivory masks, and each wore that same insane smile.  They didn’t try to attack.  Didn’t try to flee as the players wheeled toward them.  They simply copied Dom’s motion.  They raised their arms, and their fingers tapped at an invisible notice.

Booker knew what that meant.  How badly they’d just lost.

<Death and Taxes> had all just bound themselves to this spawn point.

And only moments later, that point was made abundantly clear.

A multi-colored rift tore open in the center of the courtyard amid the hundreds of players that filled that small place.  All eyes focused on the enemies on the wall instead of watching their backs.  Naïve.  Unable to appreciate the nuances of this world.

But they soon realized their error.  A shout of alarm went up as a familiar shape emerged from the rift.  One wearing an immaculate suit.  His muscles healed.  Skin repaired.  Mask in place.  Dom stood in the center of the courtyard, his guildmates ringing the enclosure.  With ponderous slowness, Dom cracked his knuckles, meeting the gaze of the guild members arrayed around him.

“So… are you afraid to die?” Dom asked simply.

Chapter 52 - Graveyard Camping

<The Jackals> Guild Chat:

Amy:  What the hell is this?  What’s going on?  I just logged on and immediately died?

Declan:  Welcome to the shitshow.  Going on hour 42.

Tina: “Hope you paid your taxes…”

Henry:  Har, har.  No need to troll her.  @Amy We’re being camped.  Badly.

Owen:  I’m so sick of this bullshit.  I’ve died like 20 times, and it doesn’t matter when I log in… they’re always there.  Are these guys just going to sit here forever?

Hazel:  Fun fact, if you just keep dying, your gear will all break… yaaaaay.

Mateo:  These guys are crazy.  We actually managed to kill one, only for the rest to wreck us.  Swear to god, he let us kill him… said something about being out of fucking mana.  Then the guy respawned like 5 minutes later, which is impossible.

Otis:  They have to be hacking…  Has anyone reported them?

Rowan:  No, that idea never crossed our minds /s.  Of course, we have!  Gamemaster said to shove it up our ass since they aren’t breaking any rules.  I’m paraphrasing slightly.

Sadie:  Where are the guild officers in all of this?  Do they even have a plan?

Owen:  What plan?  We can’t even batch respawns – not unless we coordinate outside of the game by logging out, wait for the respawn timer, and re-log at the same time.  You have everyone’s fucking phone number?

Declan:  Even then, we’re still disoriented on log-in.  And even if we kill them, they’ll just come back.  And these guys walk out of the respawn portal blasting.

Tina:  Huh… they don’t seem to be killing tag-less players.  I saw a few travelers just walk out of the starting courtyard without a problem.  You know, before I died again.

Diego:  Really?!  Then fuck this.  I’m done.

<Diego has left the guild>

Mateo:  You know what, he’s right.  What the hell do I have to lose?

<Mateo has left the guild>

<Tina has left the guild>

<Otis has left the guild>

<Owen has left the guild>

***

The members of <Death and Taxes> were lounging around what was left of the starting courtyard.  The walls had been burnt, frozen, and ripped apart – more than a few holes carved through the mixture of stone and wood.  Evidence of previous escape attempts.

Which made sense.  <The Jackals> had quickly realized that exiting through the courtyard’s main entrance was a nonstarter.  Willow was stationed in the opening, her channeled Fire Nova pulsing around her in waves and her hair aflame.  Anyone who tried to force their way past was swiftly burnt alive, leaving heaping piles of blackened skeletons shoved up against the singed remains of the gate.  The wood had long since burned away in spiraling columns of ash, and now only seared stone remained.

So, the travelers had begun going for the walls.  Many corpses had been partially embedded in the mixture of stone and wood, arms stretching out into the air and mouths frozen mid-scream.  Even more had been pulled into the ground, creating a sort of macabre graveyard of limbs and heads.  And beyond that was a field of corpses, water dripping slowly away from the lances protruding from their throats.

Walt and Vanessa flanked the courtyard.  They leaned against the structure, taking advantage of the shadows of the awnings.  They looked unassuming.  But their kill counts were actually topping the others.  They’d even begun competing, trying to beat each other to a kill – Walt knocking Vanessa’s icy spears from the air with his Gravity Well and Vanessa creating illusory travelers to send Walt on a merry goose chase.

A few air mages had gotten clever over the last few hours.  They’d opened with a blinding flash of lightning and then tried to escape into the skies – using the other travelers as cannon fodder.  Distractions.  Not that this strategy had worked very well.  Lauren lay along ramparts, pistol hanging lazily from one hand and her eyes half-closed.  She’d stopped even getting up after the first few hours.

And in the very center of the courtyard stood Dom.

Hundreds of corpses were piled up around him, smashed up against the walls.  Littering the ground.  The blood ran up to his ankles, an endless torrent.  Lauren reported that the crimson river ran all the way through Aislen– the residents slowly venturing out of their homes to watch it.  It wound down the main street, over and across and in between the remains of Dom’s siege on the city until it terminated near the city’s gates, creating a bloody waterfall that spilled down into the jungle far below.

Another player spawned in with a flash of multi-colored light.  The air mage immediately leaped for the skies with mana-assisted hopes, only for a piercing whistle to echo through the courtyard.  The man immediately slammed back against the cobblestones with a dull thud and a crack.  A gunshot soon ended his groans, and a familiar notice sprung up in front of Dom.

System Notice:  Graveyard Camping

Due to spawn camping this one respawn location and killing the same travelers over and over (many of which were stunned and helpless), your skill and experience rewards have been substantially reduced.

Seriously, this might be overkill.

Dom swept aside the prompt with a grunt.  This wasn’t overkill.  It was necessary – a function of the rules of this damn world.  And the loss of some experience wasn’t exactly a deterrent.  There was no challenge in this, after all.  This wasn’t real training.  They weren’t hoping for stat gains or skill-ups.  It was more like shooting noob fish in a barrel.

“That was still my kill,” Adrian said from the opposite rooftop, glaring at Lauren as he pet Wingman in his lap, the chicken clucking softly – her belly distended from gorging on the travelers.  Fun fact: they’d discovered that her appetite actually wasn’t completely bottomless.  It took exactly 203 corpses for her to get full. At least, temporarily. Adrian had been counting.

“Pssh.  We’ve been over this a dozen times.  Only kill shots count.  If you don’t like it, then stop CC’ing them and start killing them,” Lauren shot back, closing her eyes.  “Besides, we have to have those rules now.  They aren’t spawning nearly as fast anymore.”

“Probably giving up,” Walt grunted from the wall.

“I mean, I’d have rage quit by now,” Vanessa confirmed.

There was another flash, and a player emerged from a portal.  No guild tags on that one.  The woman stared at the courtyard in horror, her hands slowly rising in the air as the group leveled their weapons in her direction.  And yet, not a single member of the guild made a move to harm her.

“Enjoy your time in Aislen,” Dom said cordially, waving at the gate where Willow’s flame aura briefly abated.

The woman swallowed hard and then rushed for the exit.  She didn’t stop running at a dead-on sprint even as she turned a distant street corner.

“Damn, she’s making good time,” Lauren offered with a chuckle.

Then another familiar figure spawned in, the group hesitating.

Booker stepped out of the rift with a sigh.  This time, he didn’t try to fight.  Didn’t attempt to flee – not that it would have helped him.  His skills were quite powerful, but his smoke manipulation required a substantial setup to be effective.  Despite that, he’d just kept coming back over and over again.  Even as his guilds’ numbers dwindled and as his officers all gave up and logged out.  For that, he’d earned Dom’s grudging respect.

The guild leader sunk to his knees, raising his hands.  “Enough,” he ground out.  “You win.”  Even in defeat, he didn’t look scared.  Only tired.  Beaten.  No doubt he’d already obtained Deathwish some time ago.  He’d certainly undergone hundreds of deaths already.

“Finally!” Adrian exclaimed.  A flick of his wrist and his camera popped into existence, floating down to hover near Booker’s face – the guild leader scowling at the sapphire orb.

Booker looked up at Dom questioningly.  “What do you want?” he asked.

“Simple,” Dom replied evenly.  “We want you to formally disband <The Jackals> and then show the notice to the camera here.  Unfortunately, we’re going to need to see some proof.”

Booker winced.  However, he didn’t have much choice.  Adrian had been pouring over the forums while they camped this respawn point.  The guild had already lost at least 70% of their player base by the bard’s estimates.  Hundreds of travelers had respawned without tags over the last day or two in-game and begun filtering back into the city – each one likely leveling their Sprint skill in their haste to get the fuck out of this courtyard.

So, the guild leader raised his hand and followed Dom’s instructions.

Moments later, a blue notice pivoted toward the camera.

Meanwhile, a notification immediately popped up before Dom.

System Notice:  Contract Completed

You have fulfilled a crowdfunded contract.  Payment will be deposited to your account within 2-3 business days.  Thank you for “killing time” with us!

Completion Condition:  Destroy <The Jackals>

Failure Condition:  N/A

Timeline:  Unlimited

Total Contract Payout:  $46,000

Total Token Payout:  1,200

Guild Cut (50%):  $23,000

Individual Cut (6):  $3,833

Individual Tokens:  200

So, between the guild cut and Dom’s individual share, he’d just made almost $27,000.  Not terrible for a week or two of work – especially when he considered that far less time had actually elapsed in the real world.  Just a few days by his count.  His other guild members looked equally pleased, all staring off into space at their own notices.

Adrian gave Dom a thumbs up.  It looked like they were clear online too.  The video had automatically been posted to the site as proof of completion, and the camera orb winked out.

Which just left one last thing…

Dom looked back down at Booker.  The man was slumped there.  Defeated.  Crestfallen.  His head sank toward the ground as he stared listlessly at the stone.  That wasn’t the same reaction as the other players – there was no anger or frustration.  No transient fear.  Nah, Dom recognized that emotion.  That was despair, with something more behind it than just the loss of a fight in some damn videogame.

Dom crouched down before Booker.

“I think you and I need to talk,” Dom offered.

Booker glanced up, blinking blearily, his gaze listless.  “About what?  You’ve won.  I’d say fair and square, but we both know that’s bullshit.  That was never on the table.”

Dom cocked his head.  “No, no, I guess it wasn’t.  But that’s not what I wanted to talk about,” he continued.  “I want to talk about you.”

The former guild leader was looking at him in confusion now.  The rest of <Death and Taxes> still lingered around the courtyard, staring with those eerie masks.  They were curious.  Dom could feel it.  They wanted to see what he was planning.  They probably thought Dom wanted revenge, but after the last couple of days, that couldn’t be further from the truth.  He was tired of the bloodshed, at least for the moment.

Dom let out a sigh.  “So, I’ve had plenty of time to think while hanging out in this courtyard murdering your guildmates,” he began, “and a few things strike me as odd about you.”

Booker just snorted in amusement as he settled back on his ass, leaning against a pile of corpses.  He pulled a cigarette holder from his pocket, tapped out a cigarette, and gestured at Dom questioningly as he pulled out a glowing red crystal.  They both knew that seemingly innocuous item was a weapon – at least in Booker’s hands.  Dom shrugged and waved for him to go ahead.  There was little harm now.  Booker soon breathed in a lungful of smoke before exhaling slowly, forming a perfect ring that floated up into the sky.

“To start, I’m guessing your level is well over a hundred,” Dom observed as he watched the former guild leader.  “Yet strangely, your guildmates didn’t seem to be aware of your abilities – those smoke manipulation talents.  They were talking about them online.  Now, I understand why you would keep your skills and spells secret.  That makes sense to me.  But what doesn’t is how you managed to train and level without anyone knowing anything about you.”

Dom held up a finger.  “Even more interesting is that your abilities clearly require a long setup.  Your cigarettes can produce some smoke, but not nearly enough to stop someone aware of your talents.  That’s why you planned the attack on the goblin village to maximize your strengths – you needed that sea of smoke in order to incapacitate me.  That’s also why you weren’t able to easily defend the courtyard with just the smoke produced from the Fire Wall.”

Booker just shrugged.  “What can I say?  I’m weaker than I look.”

“Nah.  I don’t think that’s it,” Dom replied, ignoring his glib tone.  “Your skillset is actually quite versatile.  It’s just heavily resource-dependent.  But I think I figured out your secret.”

“Oh, do tell?” Booker offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Your highway,” Dom answered simply.

The guild leader winced and the other members of <Death and Taxes> murmured softly.  “What does that mean?” Adrian asked in confusion.

“You want to tell them?” Dom asked Booker.

The man took another long pull and then breathed out heavily.  The smoke coiled in the air, forming the phantom image of burning trees.  It wasn’t on the level of Vanessa’s illusion – not even close, really.  But it did highlight Dom’s point.  Booker could form almost anything from his smoke, assuming he had enough to work with and sufficient mana.

“We were forced to burn our way through the jungle to build the road.  That’s what I told them,” Booker answered finally.  “It wasn’t entirely a lie.  Not quite anyway.  It was just an efficient truth.  The process had a secondary benefit.  The smoke from burning all of those trees and foliage gave me a veritable army of shadow clones.  I could send them out into the woods – cut down the animals as they fled the fires without anyone the wiser.  They thought I was just there to oversee the work.  And if I happened to drop the raid first… well, then I received 100% of the experience.”

The other members of the guild were staring in surprise now as Dom nodded along.

“Sometimes, I’d get more daring.  Step away from the raid.  Make some excuse that I needed to head back to town before blending into my smoke and going hunting,” Booker said, almost wistfully.  “Inside a dense enough cloud, I’m basically invincible.”  His eyes snapped back into focus, meeting Dom’s now.  “As you can attest, I’m sure.”

“Geez,” Walt muttered.  “So, you were also using the guild to help power level yourself?

Booker shrugged.  “I helped them too.  And I always like to have a Plan B.  If the guild couldn’t make it out of this fucking green hell, then at least I could, eventually.”

The former guild leader heaved out another sigh and a plume of smoke.  “Not that it really matters.  In the end, we still lost.”  He glanced at Dom.  “And as you’ve pointed out, my skills are actually quite weak without the appropriate setup.”

Dom shook his head.  “I think you’re selling yourself short.  You just need some help, is all.  I could solve that setup problem for you, actually.”

Booker was staring in shock now.  “What?  And why would you do that?”

Dom raised a hand again.  “First, I need you to answer one more question for me.”

Booker just grunted.

“Why are you playing this game?” Dom asked.

“Because it’s just so much fun,” Booker answered sourly.

“Not the bullshit reason.  The real one,” Dom demanded calmly.  “The one that had you manipulating an entire guild.  That pitched an army against a goblin village.  That put you in a position where you couldn’t give up – even if it meant dying over and over and over again in this fucking courtyard.”

Booker’s eyes dropped to the ground.  “I’m not sure you’d understand.”

“Try me.  You might be surprised,” Dom answered simply.

The former guild leader winced, taking another drag.  “Fine.  So back in the real world, I’m a military vet.  Special forces, if you can believe that shit.  Did four tours… that is, until my unit got hit with some kind of chemical weapon.  I was the lucky one, or so they told me,” he bit out.  “I survived.  Truth was a bit more nuanced.  Those other bastards were probably better off.”

Booker exhaled another cloud of smoke, watching the ash drift up into the sky.  “I ended up with serious lung damage.  VA told me they couldn’t afford the treatment.  Budget cuts, they said.  We can spring for cash to buy tanks, and bombs, and guns.  But healthcare be damned.”

He let out a bitter chuckle.  “Save the troops!  No soldier left behind!  All that bullshit while you’re out there risking your life… until you get home.  At which point, your ass gets forgotten.  Shut up, sit tight, and suffer.”

Booker crushed the stub of his cigarette against the ground, lighting another.  “You know the irony, though?  They can’t afford to treat me.  But they also can’t afford the PR of letting me die.  That would look bad, you know.  So, they hooked me up to a fucking ventilator to keep pumping oxygen into lungs that are functioning at maybe 10%.  Imprisoned me in a tiny white box.  Don’t even have the strength to take my own life.  It’s a life-fucking-sentence – no judge or jury.  Justice truly is a cold, blind bitch,” Booker ground out harshly.

A hushed silence met his words as the members of Dom’s guild listened.  He could see their anger melting away – it was in their body language.

“That’s how I started playing this gods damned game,” Booker continued.  “That was the cheaper option.  Free really.  Cerillion Entertainment donated a bunch of copies.  More PR bullshit.  Political glad-handing.  Fuck actually treating me, but they can give me a wireless motorcycle helmet, I guess.  Still… I can breathe here.  Move.  Fight.  Possibly even fuck.  Haven’t tried that yet, but I hear interesting things.  It’s not living, but it’s close.”

He raised his eyes to meet Dom’s, hidden behind the mask.  “What I told you was the truth.  I can’t afford to lose this – or I might well lose my damn mind.”

Only silence met that statement.

Booker heaved out another plume of smoke.  “So now you’ve heard my tragic sob story.  Not that it changes anything.  I’m still stuck here.  Now guildless, thanks to you.”

Dom watched him.  His guess had been right… but the scale of it?  Well, he’d been way off.  When they’d raided that warehouse, they’d stolen $20K, not just from other players, but a disabled vet?  Fuck.  And yet, that also didn’t change Dom’s situation.  Necessity had also driven his actions – and the other members of his guild.  The shiftless.  The old.  The unappreciated.  The angry and hurt.  Even the dying…

Dom lifted his fingers to the edge of his mask—

“Hey, you’re not thinking—" Adrian began, but Lauren beat him to it.  In a flash of energy, she was by Dom’s side, placing a hand on his arm and shaking her head softly.

Dom slowly removed her hand and pulled his mask free.  Stained, green skin.  Scarred flesh that barely looked human anymore.  He met Booker face to face, the man’s forehead pinching in surprise as his eyes skimmed Dom’s features – how much they had changed from that glimpse back in the beginning courtyard all those weeks ago.

“You’re not the only one who needs this game,” Dom said finally.  He waved at his guildmates.  “In one way or another, we’re all in the same boat.  We’ve all been screwed over, forgotten, and held down back in the real world.”

“Really?” Booker scoffed, glancing at them.  “Color me skeptical.”

Dom huffed out a laugh of his own, a deep rumbling thing that had Booker’s gaze shooting back to his face.  “Alright.  Well, I haven’t told any of them my reason for playing except for Adrian,” Dom offered.  “But I’ll tell you now.

“I’m dying.  Cancer.  I’ve got maybe 6-12 months.  Or I need to come up with at least a cool half-million before then to get treatment.  The joys of fucking capitalism, right?”

Dom heard a few of his guildmembers suck in a harsh breath.  Murmuring to themselves.  No doubt looking at each other behind his back.  And meanwhile, Booker examined Dom’s face – looking for some telltale indication that he was lying.  He kept glancing between Dom and his guildies, watching the way Adrian’s shoulders drooped, and he shook his head.

“Shit… you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” Booker asked finally.

Dom just nodded.

“Fuck,” the former guild leader muttered.  Then he grinned.  “No wonder you’re a crazy-ass son of a bitch, though.  I’d been wondering who could put themselves through that hell,” he offered, waving at the entrance to the courtyard where blood flowed back through Aislen.

“We can also confirm that he’s completely insane,” Willow offered, earning her a few chuckles from the rest of the guild members.

“So, what is this?  Some sort of heart to heart with a former opponent?” Booker demanded finally, the humor fading from his expression as he watched Dom.

“Not exactly.  Think of it more like an interview.  I’d like for you to join us – <Death and Taxes>, that is,” Dom said finally.  Not a single member of his group said a word.

Booker hesitated.  He just needed a nudge.

“You need this place?  So do we.  You need money for treatment?  So do we.  You want out of this shithole jungle?  Well, so do we,” Dom insisted.  “I’ll offer you the same terms as everyone else.  Guild takes 50%.  The rest is split among whoever participates in your contract.  Anything fucking goes – with the caveat that you don’t break any of Cerillion’s rules, and you minimize resident casualties.  Judging from how you handled my attack, I suspect that shouldn’t be a problem.”

The former guild leader stared at him in stunned silence.  “You serious?  You’re going to just offer me a place?  After I tried to kill you and fuck you over?”

“Pretty much a prerequisite for joining, honestly,” Walt quipped.

“I tried to kill Dom the first time I saw him,” Lauren offered, raising her hand.

“I still kind of want to kill him,” Vanessa muttered.

“Look, the speech you gave in this courtyard was spot on,” Dom said.  “I didn’t love the other propaganda bullshit, but the core message was true.  This is a whole new world.  And just like ours, shit ain’t black and white.  You did what you thought you needed to in order to survive – as did we.”  He chuckled.  “Besides, we won, which helps.”

Booker chuckled at that.

“Now we need to figure out how to move forward.  If you join us, we can help you.  I can fix your resource problem, for example.  Train your ass up, so you’re not useless when you’re caught without your smoke.”  Dom glanced to the side at Willow.  “And some of our other members might synergize pretty damn well with your skillset.”

As he mentioned that, the older woman let out a cackle, flames rippling up her body and her hair reigniting into a bright blaze.  Smoke coiled away from her and up into the sky.

Dom offered a hand.  “So, what do you say?”

Booker stared at that hand – at the other guild members.  He hesitated—

And then, “Oh, what the hell.”

Booker accepted his grip, and Dom yanked him to his feet, pushing the guild invite and contract to him a moment later.  He’d had plenty of time to prepare that while camping this damn starting courtyard.  Once he heard the telltale chime of acceptance, Dom looked back at the man, a wide smile splitting his face.

“Welcome to <Death and Taxes>.  We’re happy to have you… Smokes.”

Chapter 53 - Product Launch

Dom walked through Aislen.

It was a much different experience than the one he’d had only a few short days ago.  The others had tried to get him to “fast travel” back to the casino with them, but he’d needed a minute to himself.  It wasn’t that his attack on <The Jackals> had left him with some emotional scar or trauma.  Although, he had died – a lot.  Even for him.

No, it felt different than that.  He had this sense that something was about to change.

Like his last year of high school.

Or each time his dad had forced them to move for work.

The weight of a tectonic shift in his life, just on the horizon.

Even the city didn’t look the way he remembered it.  The main street through town was a mess.  Half destroyed buildings.  Corpses strewn about the cobblestones and smashed up against the walls.  Broken carts and crates.  And down that road rain a blood-red river, the bodies in the starting courtyard still draining through town.

The residents peered from the shadows of windows and doorways – watched him in hushed silence as Wingman trotted along at his side.  This time, no one rushed out to give her treats.  No one spoke in hushed voices, his name echoing softly.  No one waved.  They simply watched.  A man in a suit, his face painted in a perpetual smile.  A caricature.  Because that’s what he needed to be in order to survive.  This place had forced him to evolve again.

Dom’s feet finally took him to the gate.  A massive crater rested in the center of the small courtyard – the surface singed black.  Bare skeletons were strewn across the area.  He stepped directly into the center of that crater, closing his eyes, and breathing in deeply.

Is it worth it? he wondered.  This shitshow we call life – in-game or out.  All this pain and stress and fear and bullshit?  Never knowing whether you’re doing the right thing.  The wrong thing?  Or whether any of it even really matters.

How long was he going to keep this up?  Months?  Years?

Until the stood atop a mountain of digital corpses, the living always trying to knock him from his perch.  Just as he’d done to Booker…

A cough interrupted his thoughts.  Dom’s eyes snapped open to see two familiar faces.  Feng and Chin stood nearby – whole and alive.  They must have made it away from the gate in time.  Wingman clucked happily and approached, only for the two men to recoil slightly.

She cocked her head questioningly.

“It’s okay, Wingman.  They’re just nervous,” Dom explained.

“I… uh, we don’t mean to be,” Feng offered tentatively.  Chin nodded in agreement.

Dom glanced to the side at the crimson river that flowed through a ragged hole in the wall where the gate had once stood.  It flowed steadily and tumbled down over the edge of Aislen in a bloody waterfall.  There was probably some sort of metaphor there.  The jungle taking its toll in blood or something.  But Dom was too fucking tired to give it much thought.

“It would be strange if you weren’t,” Dom murmured.  He sighed, pulling his mask free and revealing his face.  He didn’t notice anyone else nearby.  It was probably safe.

The two men seemed to relax slightly at the gesture.

Dom shot the pair a look.  “The residents?  How’d they fare?”

The two men glanced at each other.  “Better than expected.  A few injuries.  But nearly no casualties.  We had the foresight to evacuate most of the main street just in case.  The people here also saw what you did – how you saved Mathias and his boy,” Chin offered tentatively.

“Even after his stubborn ass refused to leave,” Feng groused.

Chin just grunted in agreement.

“They also saw how you took a meteor to the face and stood down an entire army by yourself.  Like they were so much as ragdolls in your way,” Feng grunted.  “Fucking crazy…”

Chin glared at him.

“What?” Feng demanded.  “It’s the truth.  They’re grateful, but they’re also scared shitless.”  He waved behind him at where the gate had once stood as though to demonstrate his point.  “If there was still a damn wall here, there wouldn’t be enough room to record how many times this ma… how many times Dom here has died.”

Dom didn’t miss how he’d hesitated to call him a man.  As though he wasn’t even human anymore.  Perhaps that was fair.  Maybe that was part of the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

“And you two?  How do you feel?” Dom asked finally.

They hung their heads, Feng rubbing at his neck.  Chin looked embarrassed.

“We can’t really complain.  We know that.  We asked you to help.  Contributed to the contract even – like most of us here in Aislen.  But this…” Chin trailed off, blinking away the image of the bloody river as he forced his eyes closed.

“It’s a lot,” Feng offered.  “Don’t get me wrong, we’re grateful.  We’re all grateful.  But it’s one thing to eat the sausage and another thing to see how it’s made, if you know what I mean.”

Dom nodded at that, his eyes trailing back to the river.

Another change.  A victory with a price.

“What… what will you do now?” Chin asked.

Dom heaved out a sigh.  “I think it’s time to move on.  I have more work to do – bloody work.  And I’m starting to understand how that changes things.”

“You’ll always have a place here and a friend in us,” Feng offered, Chin nodding in agreement.  “Our reservations be damned.  This is still a place you can call home… if you want.”

Dom shook his head.  Another polite lie.

But when he looked up, he forced a smile on his face.  “I appreciate it.”

He clapped his hands together.  “Well, looks like it’s time to go.  No sense sticking around here scaring everyone.  I should let people start to clean up and return to their lives.”  Dom glanced at Feng and Chin.  “Thank you both for being so kind.  Try to hold onto that with the other travelers.  Not all of them are as bad as you might think.  They’re just more broken people.”

Then Dom stepped down through the bloody waters.

“Oh, hey, wait!” Chin spoke up.  He came trotting forward.  “Almost forgot…”

He stooped and offered an apple to Wingman.  “One last treat for the road?”

She peered at him with her one good eye, then clucked happily, snatching the apple from his fingers in a blur that left him gaping at his hand.  He tried to suppress it, but Dom saw the fear there – just for a second.  Wingman then nuzzled her head against his leg briefly, and Chin gingerly petted her feathers.  Conflicted.  Paradox.  Demon and savior.  Happiness and pain.

Two sides of the same coin, given flesh and blood.

Fuck… the Gambler could be a real asshole.

“Stay safe, both of you,” Dom said.

Then Dom pulled his mask back on, and he and Wingman took off at a jog, splashing down that river.  Moments later, they leaped from that cliff edge one last time – soaring out above the chasm that ringed Aislen, above sparkling rivers and emerald forests.  They floated free and unafraid, a waterfall of blood at their backs, speckled crimson droplets raining down around them, and their future glimmering on the horizon.

***

Dom and Wingman reappeared in the casino in a flash of multi-colored light.  That last walk through Aislen and his talk with Feng and Chin had left a bittersweet feeling in the pit of Dom’s stomach, but that was quickly forgotten in the face of the truly raucous party that was raging through the casino floor.

The goblins were going nuts.  Hobgoblins carried around entire kegs, spraying beer into crowds of regular greenskins.  More swung from the chandeliers.  Others danced and fought atop the slot machines.  It was pure, unadulterated chaos.  And sitting by the bar was Vanessa, staring at the display with a sour expression and occasionally glancing forlornly at her coin purse.  It seemed the goblins had remembered her promise.

And the illusion of beer hadn’t been enough.

“What the fuck is this?” Booker muttered as he stepped up beside Dom, twirling a chip between his fingers.  The former guild leader stared at the chaos in confusion.  “What the hell did I sign up for?”

“One hell of a party!” Adrian shouted as he approached, juggling multiple mugs of beer.  He shoved one at Dom and another at Booker.

“Eh…” the former guild leader grunted, staring at the mug.

“Oh, and I got you something special.  Consider it a welcome-to-the-guild present,” Adrian offered.  He snatched something from his bag in a blur of motion.  Seconds later, he held two cigars in one hand and a lighter in the other, his beer mug perched on his hat.  “What do you say?”

Booker’s expression shifted instantly, setting his beer mug on a nearby slot machine where it was immediately stolen by a goblin.  “I say let’s do it!”

The pair then set off into the casino, Adrian sparing a wink at Dom.  Wingman quickly abandoned him as well, as she trotted off after the pair – likely hoping for food.

The bard had a knack for boosting morale, apparently.

For his part, Dom strode through the casino, leaving his own mug with a very grateful goblin.  He soon found himself at the bar at the back of the floor – the space having been converted into the Outfitter’s shop.  He didn’t much feel like celebrating.  Instead, he swiped at the air to bring up his notifications, blue prompts soon popping into existence.

x31 Level Up!

You have (155) undistributed stat points.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Toughness

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 10

Effect 1:  -9.50% damage and pain.

Effect 2:  Reduced fatigue duration by 17%.

x3 Skill Rank Up:  Unarmed Fighting

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 9

Effect 1:  +14.00% damage and speed.

Effect 2:  +13% Crit Chance.

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Hardy

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 9

Effect 1:  +13% Vitality.

Effect 2:  +16% Health Regeneration

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Bleeding Resist

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 1

Effect 1:  -12.50% Bleed Damage.

Effect 2:  -25% Bleed Duration.

x6 Skill Rank Up:  Fire Resistance

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 7

Effect 1:  +13.00% Resistance to Fire.

Effect 2:  -26% Burn Duration.

x4 Skill Rank Up:  Lightning Resistance

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 6

Effect 1:  +12.50% Resistance to Lightning.

Effect 2:  -25% Stun Duration.

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Cold Resistance

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 7

Effect 1:  +13.00% Resistance to Lightning.

Effect 2:  -26% Freeze Duration.

x1 Skill Rank Up:  Improvisation

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 10

Effect:  19% Damage Bonus with Random Weapon.

x5 Skill Rank Up:  Undying

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 6

Effect:  1.50% damage resistance per 10% missing health.

x8 Skill Rank Up:  Thunderclap

Skill Level:  Beginner Level 9

Effect:  28% Increased Impact Force.  1 Second Stun.

Cost:  200 Stamina

x2 Skill Rank Up:  Roll the Dice

Skill Level:  Intermediate Level 5

Effect 1:  +1 increased luck per kill.  Max stacks of 16.  Duration 15 seconds.  Refreshes on kill.  Multiplicative with the effects of Chaotic Blessing.  All stacks lost on death.

Effect 2:  +.70% damage and global damage resist per stack at death.  Lasts for 2 minutes upon respawn.

“Not bad,” Dom murmured to himself.  He’d gained a lot from that initial attack on <The Jackals>, even if the experience and skill gains had slowed once they began graveyard camping the guild.

“Look at you back here being anti-social,” the Gambler quipped.

Dom’s eyes shot up, taking in his smiling face.

“Needed a break.  You look… happy.  Too happy, maybe?” Dom offered.

The Gambler took a seat at the counter.  “What can I say?  You aren’t the only one who made out like a bandit today.  I can feel the mana just flowing in now.”

Dom grunted.  “Really?  The lot back in Aislen looked rather conflicted.”

The god shrugged.  “Change is scary.  But necessary for my business.  Like I said before, human experience is all about contrast.  Can’t have that without mixing some shit up.”

His eyes took in the casino and the party raging across the floor.  “Plus, they all look happy.”  The god turned his attention back to Dom, noting the way he watched the others mingle among the goblins.  His guildmates were playing a drinking game where they had to toss meat into Wingman’s open beak.  A few goblins had lost a hand already, but she seemed ecstatic.

“How do you feel about it?  Assuming you forget about all those gloomy assholes back in Aislen,” the Gambler asked finally.  “Money in the bank.  A light at the end of the tunnel.  And perhaps even some friends at your back?”

Dom had been wringing his hands.  But part of him knew that he was just covering again.  He felt like he should feel guilty for what he’d done to those people.  For the lengths he’d been forced to go in order to survive.  But the truth?  Well, it had been kind of fun.  And although his actions had certainly come with a cost, they’d had their own rewards as well.

A little bit of change had shaken his shit up, he supposed.

The Gambler seemed to anticipate his thoughts, giving him an amused grin.

Dom heaved out a sigh.  “Fine.  I feel good.  Surprisingly good.”

The god just let out a small, knowing chuckle.

“I’m not admitting that there’s anything to your fucked up philosophy, though.”

“Of course not,” the Gambler replied easily.  With a twitch of his fingers, a glass and bottle of whiskey rose from behind the bar on amber-infused winds.  Then, the bottle tipped forward and spilling its contents into the glass.  Then the god took a long sip.

“Although, you’ve changed,” the Gambler observed.

Dom cocked his head.  “I guess.  I’ve dealt with my shit, at least.  I’m not afraid to die anymore… or to take what I want.  What I need to survive.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.  That.  But not really what I meant.”

Dom shot him a questioning look.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” the god asked, taking another pull on his whiskey.  “You look like the jungle ate your ass up and then shit you back out.  Ever wonder why?”

“I assumed it was the training,” Dom answered with a shrug.

“Well, of course,” the god replied with a frustrated huff.  “But you’re barely human anymore – it’s why those people back in Aislen are feeling all conflicted.  It’s not just the mask or the suit or your newfound penchant for murder.  It’s the fact that you’re easily topping 6’6” now and probably weigh close to 350 pounds.”

It was Dom’s turn to stare in surprise.  That was… big.  Bigger than he was in the real world, for sure.  “What exactly are you saying?”

“And just like the goblins… your brain hasn’t gotten any bigger.  The deaths must kill brain cells or something,” the god muttered to himself.  As he saw Dom glaring, he heaved out a sigh.  “Fine, fine.  I suppose I can show you this now.”

As the Gambler waved his hand, two prompts appeared before Dom.

Class Change:  Juggernaut

You are the first to charge into battle.  The tip of the spear.  A man with nothing to lose and everything to gain, unencumbered by fear… or flimsy things like weapons and armor.  You’re willing to wade into a wall of steel and an ocean of fire if it means victory.  And even those things can’t stop you.  You’re a gods damned Juggernaut, after all.

+20 Strength

+20 Dexterity

Increased Air Magic Affinity (Currently 29%)

Increased skill gain with martial skills

Decreased proficiency with weapon skills.

Stat penalty while wearing armor.

System Notice: Race Change

After undergoing grueling training, your body has transformed.  Gone is the smooth clear skin you used to know – replaced with a leathery hide that is more scar tissue than anything else.  Your limbs have grown, your bones have thickened until they’re hard as stone, and your muscles have condensed to the point that some weapons have trouble cutting through them.  You’re something different now… something new.  A race long lost to time.  Probably because they were far too dangerous to be allowed to live.

Race Change: Ogrin

Increased skill gain for resistance skills.

Innate 5% damage resistance to all damage types.

You have been awarded +20 to Strength

You have been awarded +20 to Vitality

You have been awarded +20 to Endurance

Racial weakness to slowing and crowd control effects.

Health regeneration halved.

“Good gods,” Dom muttered, eyeing those prompts.  The loss of armor and weapons was fine – he’d already been dealing with that issue.  And the health regeneration hit sucked.

But the flat damage resistance buff?  The increased skill growth?  The increased skill gain to resistances?  Those all synergized perfectly with what he’d been doing.  They would allow him to train even harder – to become even stronger.  And he was going to need that in order to compensate for his lack of equipment and spellcasting abilities.  The truth was that he’d gotten lucky with Booker.  If someone knew how Chaotic Blessing and Roll the Dice worked…

Well, the outcome might’ve been quite different.

Curious, Dom tapped at the air to bring up his Character Status.

Character Status

Name:

Dom

Gender:

Male

Level:

132

Class:

Juggernaut

Race:

Ogrin

Alignment:

Chaotic Neutral

Fame:

0

Infamy:

0

Health:

10,094

H/Sec:

27.43

Mana:

0

M/Sec:

0.00

Stamina

5,472

S/Sec:

47.67

Str

341

Dex

321

Vit

472

End

321

Int

10

Will

10

Lck

10

Affinities

Dark:

9%

Light:

11%

Fire:

6%

Water:

3%

Air:

29%

Earth:

3%

“Not too shabby, huh?” the Gambler commented, taking another sip.

“No, no not at all,” Dom murmured.

“Unfortunately, there’s a limit to what I can do for you,” the god continued, eyes still on the crowd.  “You’ve refused to be my avatar – which is why I can bring your teammates here to this place,” he explained.  “I’m taking the position that your whole guild is currently interviewing for the role.  Technically, not a breach of the rules.”

Oscar let out a small squeak nearby, which earned him a glare from the god.

“Yeah, yeah, I know… I was getting to that part,” he said to the rat.

The Gambler sighed into his glass.  “Anyway, that comes with tradeoffs.  The other avatars are going to have direct access to their mana well.  They can use it to create incredible things… or to blow up a ton of shit.  In your case, those abilities are locked away.  Lucky for you, however,” he drawled with a grin, “yours truly can still use that mana freely.  Within my own discretion, of course.”

Dom raised an eyebrow.  “Fantastic,” he offered dryly.

“Oh, don’t worry.  Our goals align.  I wish to continue expanding this place.  I also intend to start offering a wider selection at the Outfitter – possibly some raw materials and schematics for your ugly green army here.  Long-term, we could probably even hire someone to handle logistics for the casino… help with your little travel problem.”

The god looked to him then, his eyes flashing amber.  “I’m just going to need for you and your merry band of mercenaries to keep raking in that mana.  Keep upping the stakes.  I need for you to sow chaos – fulfill as many contracts as you can.”

Dom grunted.  It seemed their goals did align then.

He looked out across the casino at everyone partying.  Maybe alone, he’d have struggled with the Gambler’s task.  But now?  Now he had a team.  A base of operations.  A mission and a plan to carry it out.  Together, they could accomplish incredible and terrible things.

In fact, they already had.

Dom smiled.  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Epilogue

Alan stood in a long line of travelers.  Parallel rows of humanity were lined up every few feet throughout the great hall.  The ceiling towered nearly thirty feet into the air, and the structure was filled with ornate columns, golden scrollwork lacing the wood and speaking to the extreme wealth in Barrow.  The air buzzed around the waiting travelers, murmurs and voices filling the space, accompanied by the occasional whisper of boots on marble as the lines shuffled forward a mere few steps.

Geez, this is taking forever, Alan groaned mentally.

He’d been in line for at least 45 minutes already.  And that was after he’d gotten through the security stationed out front – where the resident guards had patted him down for hidden bags and then carefully inspected the loot he’d brought.  He swore one lady had lingered just a bit too long below the belt… suggesting he might be smuggling something in his pants.

Alan wondered if he could report resident guards for sexual harassment.

And all of this was just to access a damn auction house.  It felt like he was going on an international flight.  Who would even have the balls to attack a place like this?  It was a fortress.

Sure, the hall was big and open, but there was only one entrance and an entire battalion of troops stationed outside, more lining the large room and pacing down the lines of travelers.  And overhead?  Nephilim flapped in place along the ceiling, watching the crowds closely.  Even more, no doubt, were patrolling the exterior of the building from the skies.

Alan took another ponderous step forward.

The auctioneers were visible now – ordinary men and women stationed before large tables.  As each player approached, they dumped loot on that surface.  They then requested the sales postings by pushing that data to the auctioneer.  Afterward, the loot was hauled off by residents to be processed and placed online.  The locals had been forced to adapt as demand for the marketplace increased.  And this was just for sales.  Purchasing took place on the other side of the hall, where bored-looking auctioneers oversaw travelers that swiped blindly at the air like mental patients.

Alan caught movement out of the corner of his eye and thought the line was moving again.  He stepped forward automatically… only to bump into the man ahead of him.  A slender fellow.  Maybe 5’10” and 150 lbs.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Alan began, only to freeze a moment later.  Something was wrong, but it took his brain a few seconds to catch up.  The man hadn’t moved at all under his weight, and although Alan could certainly see that his hands were gripping slender shoulders, he could only feel smooth cotton and rippling muscle beneath his fingers.  The fabric also felt… cold?

The traveler looked back at him, their eyes meeting.

The man heaved out a sigh, swiping at the air and tapping out a short message.

“You might want to get down,” the traveler said calmly.

“What?  What do you mean—?” Alan never got to finish that question.

Without warning, several small objects rolled down the lines of travelers, tinkling softly against the stone floor.  The guards eyed them in confusion.  But before they could raise a shout of warning, the spheres detonated and spewed thick smoke throughout the room.  More blasts echoed across the hall until the entire structure was filled with thick gray smoke.

Shouts of alarm filled the air as the customers all shifted in place.  Then came the screams – blood-curdling affairs that were cut off abruptly.  Alan eyed the smoke nervously.  He could have sworn he’d seen creatures in the fog.  Shadowy and ephemeral.  All claws and death.

Only moments later, the screams faded.

The traveler before Alan turned to him then – barely visible amid the smoke.  His body rippled and contorted, then transformed.  It bloomed outward, a far larger creature emerging from that slender shape, his shoulder stretching up into the air.  His plain trappings faded into a slick woolen suit, and across his face was strapped a familiar white mask – a bloody smile painted there.

“Smiles,” Alan gasped.  The figure turned to him then, miming pressing his hands to his ears.  Alan quickly followed his instructions.

Then the man drew his arms back and clapped his hands with ferocious strength.  The force of that blow was like a damn peel of thunder.  It rocked the entire room, amplified by the stone walls and ceiling.  It also shoved back the smoke with incredible force and caused the players to drop to their knees, clutching at their ears.  Even with advance warning, Alan’s eardrums were struggling not to burst from the pressure.

And into that sudden silence, Smiles shouted.  “Everyone, get down!  This is a stickup!  You move, you die!”

“You heard the man,” another player shouted.  “<Death and Taxes> is in the building.  We’re here to liberate your sweet, sweet loot.”  In contrast to Smiles, he was rail-thin, a guitar case strapped to his back.  He wore a more flamboyant affair.  Bright colors and a velvet vest topped off with a luxurious hat that had a feather perched along the brim.  He looked like some sort of homicidal minstrel.

“Oh, shit,” a player beside Alan muttered.  “We’re so fucking dead.  These guys are completely batshit.  We’re going to lose everything.”

“But what about the guards?” Alan murmured back.

The other player just pointed along the aisles.  All of the guards were dead.  All of them.  Their throats cut open, and their crimson blood sprayed across the ground.  Even the Nephilim were down, jagged, icy lances embedded in their throats.  Throughout the room, the group’s illusions were wearing off, revealing six members of <Death and Taxes> standing amid the crowd of travelers now huddled along the floor.

“Blaze, get the doors!” Smiles ordered.

The woman just let out a cackle, flames igniting from her body in an instant.  The heat was so intense that it set her hair aflame.  The woman strode toward the doors to the hall, guards already trying to push their way inside.  They were soon met by an intense wave of fire.  Yet Blaze didn’t relent even after they fell screaming to the floor and stopped moving.

What is she—? Alan began.  And then it clicked.

The auction house was designed with heavy metal doors guarding a single entrance.  The rest of the building was a multi-layered vault that could be locked down at a moment’s notice.  Now Blaze was heating that metal… until it glowed a dull red, then bright white, then began to melt into slag, welding the whole structure shut.  Then, in a wink, her flames receded.

Muted banging could be heard on the other side, accompanied by shouts of alarm.  But Blaze just stood there, eyeing the doorway and flames licking at her body – occasionally reheating the metal to screams of pain from the other side of the portal.

“Bard and Queen, keep an eye on our guests.  Smokes, please feel free to liberate these folks of their gear and loot.  Anyone resists, kill ‘em,” Smiles ordered.

“Tombs and Wingman, get the vault.”

Wingman? Alan wondered – he’d only counted six.  Then he saw a chicken’s head peak out from the bag slung across Smiles’ back.  All at once, the creature shoved its way free, revealing an enormous bird that stretched up past Smiles’ waist, her feet crushing the stone as she landed.  Smiles promptly threw her the bag, and she set off after the other player – Tombs presumably – as they headed toward the back of the structure.

Although, Alan wasn’t given long to ponder on that.  Smiles had moved to stand in the center of the room beside another masked figure.  That man’s fingers twitched as he took a long pull on the cigarette poking through his mask.  Smoke still coiled through the room, descending down from the ceiling where Smiles had forced it with his clap.  And among that fog was wraith-like creatures.  They picked at the travelers’ gear.  Sliced open bags.  Pulled off rings.  Snatched weapons and armor.

A traveler tried to protest.  “Hey, that’s my—”

He was cut off in an instant by a piercing whistle.  His eyes swiftly rolled back into his head, and blood poured from his ears before he slumped onto the tile.  Unconscious or dead, Alan couldn’t be sure.

“Holy crap, it’s really Bard!  And he’s, like, just a few yards away,” a woman nearby whispered from her place on the floor

“I’ve wanted to meet him for forever,” the traveler beside her whispered back.

“Me too.  He’s even hotter in person.”

“You think… you think he’d take a selfie with us?”

Alan just stared at the women like they were insane.  Didn’t they realize they were getting robbed right now?!  By a bunch of murdering sociopaths.

Another voice spoke up.  “It would be my absolute pleasure, ladies,” Bard said, suddenly appearing nearby and sweeping into a bow.  He perched down with them, one of the women bringing up her in-game camera with trembling fingers.  They posed on the ground, looking up at the glowing sphere with Bard’s mask in frame.

“You’re like my favorite member of <Death and Taxes>,” the woman gushed.  “You’re really making a stand for the underrated classes, in my opinion.”

Yeah, it’s an honor to get robbed by you.  Really,” the other woman piped up.

“Ahh, that’s so sweet,” Bard replied.  The man then waved at the camera.  “Let’s get you that picture.  Everyone say, highway robbery!” Bard said.

“Highway robbery!” both women exclaimed.

The orb flashed, and Bard rose back to his feet.  “Are you serious?” Queen asked from nearby.  “You’re taking selfies with the hostages now?”

Bard put a hand to his chest.  “Hey, PR is important, and I have a responsibility to my community – and my fans.”  Queen just snorted.  “Besides, as the face of this enterprise, I also need to ensure that our hostages have a positive experience.”

He glanced down at Alan.  “Like you, good sir.  How would you rate your robbery today on a scale of 1 to 10?  10 being a smooth and relatively painless mugging.”

Alan just stared back up at that grinning mask.  Yeah, this guy was nuts.

“Um…” he struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Now, now, don’t be nervous.”  Bard raised a finger.  “But you have five more seconds to answer before I burst your eardrums and partially liquefy your brain,” he offered, pointing at the other player who’d tried to resist, blood leaking from his nose and ears, and his mouth listing open.

Alan’s eyes went wide.

“Kidding, kidding!” Bard insisted, raising his hands.  “Sorry, that was just too easy.”

“Seriously, stop fucking with the hostages and pay attention,” Queen bit out.  “We’ve only got 60 seconds left.”  She waved at the center of the room, where Smiles stood, arms crossed as he inspected the loot that the shadows were shoving into rows of bags.

Moments later, Tombs and Wingman returned.  The bag was now strapped to the chicken, which had somehow seemed to get larger – now towering over six feet into the air.  Each of her footfalls caused the tiles to crack and crumble.

“We’re good,” Tombs reported, Wingman adding a cluck of agreement.

“Almost done here too,” Smiles shot back as the shadows finished gathering and organizing the loot.  Smokes took another long pull on his cigarette before stubbing out the butt on a nearby player, the man sucking in a harsh breath.

Smiles soon stooped and grabbed that sack—

It has to weigh a ton, even with the weight compression, Alan thought feebly.

Yet Smiles lifted it easily, slinging it over his shoulder.  Just how much Strength did that man have… if he could even be called human anymore?

Then the group was all heading for the front door.

“Well, it’s been fun, folks!” Bard shouted as they retreated.  “If I were you, I’d stay down for just a bit.  You know, if you don’t want to get hit in the crossfire.  Oh, and if any of you are looking for some help.  Murder.  Arson.  Robbery.  You name it, we’re your group.  That’s <Death and Taxes> in case you didn’t catch the name!”

With that, Smiles dropped into a crouch as Blaze reheated the metal surface.  As soon as the door glowed a dull red, Queen expelled a thick cloud of icy fog, steam rocketing up into the air.  Seconds ticked past, and then Smiles launched forward like a human bulldozer.  He crashed into the doorway, blowing the entire damn thing off its frame – the rapid heating and cooling making the metal brittle.  A whole section of the wall was ripped free to cries of alarm from outside.  Screams and shouts soon followed as several of the soldiers stationed outside were crushed.

Most of the other players were frozen in place, half-naked and shivering on the cool stone, but not wanting to risk moving.  However, curiosity had gotten the better of Alan.  How the fuck were these people going to get out of here with an army stationed outside.  Hell, it was his understanding that Barrow had one of the best shipping air fleets in the game and a contract with Alexion’s army – hence the Nephilim.  How were these guys going to deal with enemy air support?

So, Alan crawled forward until he got a decent look at the courtyard outside.

“Ahh, hello there!” Bard greeted the army arrayed around the auction house.  There must have been a few hundred soldiers and mages – more Nephilim floating in the skies and encircling the building as word spread of the robbery.  Yet, the group seemed unperturbed.

“It’s so kind of you all to attend my impromptu concert,” Bard continued, pulling his guitar from its case, and flicking on the crystal-amp at the base.  The soldiers made to surge forward, and he held up a hand.  “Now, now, don’t be impatient.  Good things take time, after all.”

Bard strummed his guitar, and an electric whine peeled across the courtyard with excruciating force, stunning the army in place. Even the Nephilim were forced to cover their ears.  And suddenly… a boom echoed in the distance.  Followed by another.  And another.

A half dozen mages dropped to the ground.  Soon followed by another dozen Nephilim, their winged bodies landing amid the troops.

Bard’s melody kept blasting even as members of the opposing force dropped.  They were beginning to recover now.  The Nephilim were looking for the sniper, wherever she might be.  Others acted quickly, turning toward the rest of <Death and Taxes> and hurling spells and missiles… only for Smiles to step forward into the barrage.  Tombs dropped a Gravity Well directly on top of him, the man somehow managing to stay standing.  The missiles weren’t so fortunate, crashing down into the cobblestones in a rain of metal, wood, ice, and fire.  The occasional bolt of lightning that blasted through simply crashed against Smiles – the man’s suit ripped away.

But he didn’t back down for a second.

Even as the Nephilim began to fall from the skies – as the enemy casters were taken out one by one – they were trying to raise shields now, pulling focus from Smiles’ group.  But without knowing where the missiles were coming from, it was futile.

Tombs dropped his spell, tapped Smiles’ shoulder, and gestured at Queen.  The other members of the group gathered close, all placing a hand on Smiles.  Smokes dropped another handful of grenades, and that dense smoke suddenly erupted all around the entrance to the auction house, obscuring the group from sight.

A stiff wind soon swept the mist away… only to reveal that there were now three groups of <Death and Taxes> standing there.

More illusions, Alan realized, wide-eyed.

They all shot forward at once, splitting in three different directions as they darted through the enemy soldiers.  The opposing force was in complete chaos now.  They began to break formation against the orders of their officers – their calls soon cut off by well-placed bullets.  The soldiers began streaming out of the courtyard after the clones.

Alan just shook his head.  How did—

He was cut off again as another illusion rippled and then disappeared, the original group of <Death and Taxes> emerging back on the staircase.  They’d never moved.

“Tell Pewpew we’re on our way,” Smiles ordered.  Blaze nodded and swiped at the air to type out instructions.  Likely her chat window.

Bard chose that moment to glance over his shoulder, noticing Alan watching them.  He gave him a thumbs up.  “Tell your friends!” he shouted as he slung his guitar back into its case.

Emerald energy suddenly wrapped around Tombs, and the whole group melted down into the ground, disappearing from view.  Bodies riddled the courtyard.  The soldiers were hurling spells at illusions.  Blood stained the interior hall, pooling along the marble amid lines of half-naked travelers.  Shouts and screams echoed in the distance.

It was pure chaos.

“What the actual fuck,” Alan muttered.

***

The group emerged from the ground at the rendezvous point.

They were situated on a cliff near Barrow, the city sprawled out below them.

Willow and Vanessa were gasping for breath.  Even with brief breaks to stop for air, that had been unpleasant.  The compression while moving underground hadn’t helped a bit.

“About damn time,” Lauren offered from nearby.  She was lying on the ground, a long rifle perched on a stand.  As she finished speaking, she squeezed off another round.  A missile erupted from the rifle and sped forward with a flash of lightning.

She chuckled.  “87,” she announced to no one in particular.

Then she rose from the ground and slung the rifle across her back.  “You guys get everything?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was a good haul,” Dom answered, patting Wingman’s head.

He lifted the bags and dropped them nearby, where they landed with a heavy thud.  Adrian’s recording orb flashed into existence and pulsed once as he snapped a picture, pushing the image to their client.  Then Dom gestured at Queen, and a flicker of water mana soon settled across the bags.  They suddenly melted in with their surroundings, taking the shape of a grave with a crude tombstone – a smile painted on its surface.

“Went pretty smooth,” Vanessa offered, rubbing at her neck.  “Except for Adrian here taking selfies with the hostages.”

“Again?” Lauren demanded.

“All I hear is jealousy.  Who am I to deny my fans?”

“A murderer?  A robber?  A good for nothing thief?” Queen offered, ticking off points on her fingers.

Adrian opened his mouth to respond but then snapped it shut.  “Touché.”

Walt glanced at Dom.  “So, we done here?”

“I guess so.  Time to fast travel home, I guess,” Dom answered.

The whole group turned then, eyeing the city lying below the cliff edge.  It was bustling with activity now.  Flames had erupted in the center of town, possibly a side effect of Blaze getting overexcited or maybe the soldiers in their haste to take out their group.  The shouts and sounds of battle could be heard from here.  Although, who knew what those idiots thought they were actually fighting anymore.

As one, a ding sounded across their UI – a notification announcing another contract completed.  Another payday soon to be deposited into their accounts.

“Man, I love this game,” Pewpew said, then she leaped from the ledge.

This earned her nods from the rest of the group.  They soon followed her lead, each plunging over the edge of the cliff and freefalling to the ground below.  Dom watched them, ensuring each made it out without complication.  Then his eyes took in the city one last time.

He had to agree.  He was starting to enjoy this too.

Then Dom plunged over the ledge, a smile on his face the whole way down.

System Message

You have died.

Thanks for playing Awaken Online!

The End

Luck Proc: Bonus Epilogue

System Message:  Luck Proc

Your current luck modifier is (+66.6).

Bonus chapter awarded.

November 20, 2076:  50 days after the release of Awaken Online.

Gloria Bastion’s Apartment

“You settled in for the night, Sophie?” Gloria asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Of course, Mom,” her daughter replied, taking measured steps through her bedroom.

A floating blue ball of light hovered in the corner, the AI constantly scanning the space and prepared to alert Sophie if she was about to run into anything.  Her Core would also vibrate as an additional warning.  Not that Sophie really needed that feature anymore inside the apartment.  She’d already long ago memorized the layout and only stumbled if there were unforeseen changes.

Which might explain the minor note of exasperation in her voice.  “You don’t have to do this every night.  I’m a grown woman now.  Besides, what’s going to happen?  I stumble or fall?  Hell, I’ve been going into town on my own for years now.”

Gloria sighed.  “I know.  I know.  But it’s a mother’s prerogative to worry.”

She rubbed at her eyes.  It was more than that.  Gloria knew it.  She was projecting, her thoughts constantly turning back to that damn case – the one she just couldn’t let go of.

“And how’re you doing?” Sophie demanded, her head drifting in Gloria’s direction as she settled back onto her bed.

“I’m fine,” Gloria replied immediately.

“Hmph,” Sophie grunted, unconvinced.  She was perceptive despite the loss of her eyesight.  Perhaps even more so than normal.  Tone and diction could convey a lot.

“Okay.  I’m worried,” Gloria amended.

“About that case?  Jason and this new VR tech?” Sophie asked, her brow furrowing.  Of course, she’d been following the situation.  It had been all over the news.

“Yes.  They’ve actually shut me down,” Gloria explained with a sigh.  “The regulatory committee closed the investigation after Jason’s interview and the auditor’s testimony.”

Sophie just nodded.  No doubt that had been leaked already.

“Are you…” Sophie hesitated, chewing on her lip.

“What?  Am I what?” Gloria asked.

“Nothing, nothing.”  Sophie shook her head.

“No, go on.  What were you going to ask?”

Sophie looked conflicted, her fingers kneading together in her lap.  “Are you sure that this product is really unsafe?” she asked softly.

Gloria winced and tried to control her body so that Sophie wouldn’t hear a sharp intake of breath.  That feeling was back with a vengeance.  A heavy, sickly thing that had been pushing her forward for months now.

“I’m not certain, honey,” Gloria answered finally.  “I think something else is going on here.  Something bad.  I’ve just gotten so much pushback – first from the company and now the senators on the regulatory committee.  There’s just too much money involved – consequences be damned.”

Sophie frowned, looking conflicted.  “Some of the other students have tried it.  Others with similar issues as me.  They say it’s extraordinary.”

Gloria took a perfectly measured breath and resisted the urge to fidget.  “I know you’re anxious to try this VR technology, but what if it makes your condition worse?  Or causes some new issue?  Waiting costs you nothing – at least until we know it’s safe.”

Her daughter let out a sigh.  “Okay.”  Her tone conveyed that it definitely wasn’t okay.  Sophie shook her head.  “Anyway, I’m going to go to sleep.  Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, honey,” Gloria replied.

The AI immediately dimmed the lights.  A pointless effort for Sophie, but one that was still hardwired into its programming.  For her part, Gloria stood there for a few moments longer, keeping her breathing still and quiet.  Just watching her daughter as that same damn feeling coiled and writhed in her stomach.  She knew what it was.  She wasn’t stupid.  She just couldn’t endure being wrong again.  Letting another harm befall her daughter under her watch.

Her own guilt was a small price to pay for Sophie’s safety.

Gloria stepped away from the doorway softly, her bare feet padding along the ground with practiced steps, avoiding every creaking floorboard.  She soon drifted back into the hall, the cramped living room, and then into her home office, closing the door behind her with a faint click.  The room was dark, bottomless, the blinds perpetually drawn shut.

As she stood there, the AI sprang to life.  “Passcode?”

“Omega,” Gloria answered quietly.

Immediately, her terminal sprang to life, a dozen screens perched atop a simple desk in one corner, the light illuminating the antiquated shelves that lined the office overflowing with books.  A relic of a long-lost time.  But one that still felt strangely comforting.  With so much having changed over Gloria’s life – and with her unique perspective into the harms those products often caused – it was nice to remember a time when people owned simpler, less destructive tools.

She moved to stand in front of the desk, the surface rising automatically.

The displays listed reports.  The data she’d gained from the investigations into the AI.  A dossier on Jason – replete with the video from his interview and the information from the break-in and deaths at his home.  However, her research hadn’t stopped there.  She’d compiled full background profiles on each of the avatars.  Others might not have made the connection yet, but she knew who Finn was, and she found it telling that the AI had chosen him as one of the avatars.  Another was the son of Cerillion’s CEO.  The only odd choice was Eliza – a seemingly unimportant teenage girl.  Gloria didn’t see a connection there.  Not yet, anyway.

Her bosses had told her to stop.  So had the regulatory committee.  But she just couldn’t.  If this game was endangering others, she owed them a responsibility to see this through.

Yet even as that thought crossed her mind, her eyes fell on a picture of her daughter sitting on the desk, the image shifting and changing every few seconds.  She knew that wasn’t the truth – or, at least, not all of it.

She needed to prove this game and hardware was safe.  For Sophie.

And now, she thought she might have a way to accomplish that.  A way to force the AI and the other avatars into a corner – a test of sorts.

Gloria swiped at the air, and the screens shifted.  Forums from several different sites, including a group called Safeguarding All Families Everywhere (or SAFE).  A group dedicated to consumer safety issues spanning every field from tech to medicine.  They’d grown in recognition of late after Jason’s multiple public spectacles and had actually organized many of the protests centered around the regulatory committee hearings.

With a tap of her fingers, Gloria logged into the site as an admin.  What her bosses and the regulatory committee didn’t know was that she’d founded this organization.  She’d discovered over the years that the “system” was rarely reliable.  Money opened and closed all doors.  So, her only option was often to feed or leak information to the group – create enough noise to pressure these companies into making real changes.  To ensure accountability.

She scanned several forum posts.  They kept telling the same stories.  Family members changed.  Husbands and wives that seemed like entirely different people now.  Sons and daughters who rarely took off their damn headsets.  More like zombies than regular people anymore.  They were upset.  Nervous.  Scared.  Ready for action in huge numbers as the game continued growing in popularity and expanding globally.

They were ready to execute her plan.

The only question now was how to pull it off.

The displays suddenly stuttered.  The images trembling and shaking erratically until they had all shifted to pure white noise – digital static.  And bleeding through that snowy white storm was the silhouette of a black cat.  It appeared for only an instant and then disappeared, replaced with a single line of text.

“I can help you with your plan.”

Gloria swallowed hard.  Had someone hacked her?

“H-how?” Gloria managed.  No doubt the hacker was controlling her mic too.

The line of text shifted moments later.

“You will need help.”

Then the words bled away again.  This time they were replaced with a single image – painted across every screen.  It was a hulking beast of a man, wearing an eerie white mask, a blood-red smiley face painted across its surface.  Gloria had seen images and rumors about him online.  Many people were theorizing he was the air avatar.

They called him Smiles.

The image bled away.

“Find him.  Find Smiles.”

All at once, the screens snapped back to Gloria’s regular workspace.  The change was so abrupt she almost wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing.  But she knew she hadn’t – that couldn’t have been anything other than real.  The files downloaded to her terminal confirmed that.  A huge packet of information by the looks of it.

Who had hacked her?  Her system was impregnable.  Only a few people could have the wherewithal to pull this off.  And what did they want?

Gloria shook her head, recalling that image.  One question hovered above all the rest.

Could… could Smiles really help pull off her plan?

With a worried glance, Gloria looked to the side, where a simple white box rested on her desk – about the size of a motorcycle helmet.  That familiar guilt flared again, accompanied by a new note of hypocrisy.  However, if one of them was going to take a risk, then it should be Gloria.  This time, she wouldn’t place her daughter in danger.  Not again.  Her fingers reached forward, turning the box.  A familiar logo was painted across the surface.

One marking it as the product of Cerillion Entertainment…

The Real End

Thank you for reading!

I hope you enjoyed the story!  As for what’s next… we’re heading back to Jason.  As though you all couldn’t tell from the epilogue!  This one should be interesting…

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Acknowledgments

I’d also like to give a shout-out to everyone who helped me write Awaken Online: Hellion.  Like most great things, it takes a village to write a book.  Or at least one that makes sense and is (relatively) error-free.  Thank you all for your help and support!

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