Rupert stared upward at the floating torches. At some point during the game initialization, he had fallen, and he was on his back — looking up at a sloped stone ceiling which had structural beams running from one side to the other.


    Not necessarily, he reminded himself. In Zombie Mode, even proprioception can be overwritten, and Beyul Two-point-Zero can send artificial signals to the wearer’s limbs. It is easier not to, and less draining on the batteries, but Tapan said it could be done.


    Chanting and drums filled the air. Although it was a small part of the instruments, Rupert recognized the song — one of his odes to the beauty that was supposed to be used for Beyul’s in-game Heaven. For this one, he had added a marching bass line and brass cords like polearms being struck against stones as the armies of Heaven marched. The flutes would have flutters like the wings of angels. And the oboes would buffet the song like the winds from the wings would buffet the enemy.


    “Introduction,” Beyul announced. “Heroes’ Hub: War Shattered City.”


    “Welcome Night Blood,” an old man said.


    Rupert turned his head to try and see who said that but instead saw he had been laid in a stone, rectangular box — smaller than the coffin rooms back at the House — a similar seven feet from head to foot, but a narrow two and a third feet wide and two feet high. Is this an actual casket?


    Anyone who died in the House was said to be buried in a resin box made of spent cooking oil. Funerals and viewings were too expensive of the House, so none of the residents actually knew what happened to the bodies after death.


    Rupert touched the cold stone and reveled in its roughness and imperfections.


    “Rise,” the voice said.


    Some unseen force curled under him and lifted him up out of the coffin, pulling his head faster than his feet, standing him upright, hoisting him above the ground and the casket.


    The chanting and drums faltered to be replaced with gasps.


    Rupert saw only one person.


    An old man, dressed in black — his black cloak lined in red, a white square at his throat — holding a six-foot long, gold and ivory scepter with a cross attached to the end. His head thrown back, arms spread wide. “Hear us. Heed our call. Honor our service. Answer our need.”


    A silver aura shifted about the man growing into glowing wings. Gold threads in the black cloak and black clothes glittered.


    The drums began again along with some strange bells. After a moment the chanting resumed.


    Rupert tried to turn his head, but the force which held him was too strong.


    The force pulled his arms away from his body and pulled his head back, so he again stared at the stone ceiling.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    “Grant us your Pious Form,” the chant continued. “Guard us against our earthly enemies. Gift us with the might to do right.”


    A shaft of silver light blinded Rupert.


    He felt wings sprout from his back. A crown weighed upon his head. A sword pressed itself into his hand. Wings ripped out of his Achilles Tendons. Some sort of helm extended from the crown encasing his head. A necklace with a large diamond or clear stone settled around his neck.


    “Awaken!”


    Then the force was gone.


    Rupert’s wings floundered for a moment, and he tumbled toward the floor. Then with the slightest of flutters, his silver wings stabilized him, and he floated. With but a thought, his wings furled some, and he descended to the floor and landed as lightly as if he were a feather.


    The man fell to his knees and bowed his head. “Please aid us.”


    Rupert sensed others landing around him. He glanced and saw five other people with silver wings, gold crowns — no, halos, he decided — helms and armor. Each held a polearm with gold spear tip and three bands to hold, and each waist held a sword hilt. If the other angels were Jason’s band, he knew only one of their names.


    He looked at the space about them.


    The room was a long rectangle with high arches. Whatever benches had been here were now covering the remains of the windows running along the sides of the room. More boards covered the half circles at either end. Four sets of stairs lead down to a floor below.


    One of the angels stepped forward, looked down at the prostrated man, and asked in Jason’s voice, “What would have us do?”


    The prostrated man looked up at Jason’s angel face. “Oh, Archangel Michael, praise be that it is you who has answered our call and granted us angels of your Choir. Oh, angels, the city is at war. The cemetery has been desecrated first by unholy necromancers, then by fearful nonbelievers. These are the last of the faithful. Please mighty archangels, protect us from those who know what they do.”


    Jason looked to Rupert.


    “War Vassal connection established,” Beyul said.


    <This is a fairly standard set up,> Jason’s voice floated on the music of the wind. <We are given a poor initial base of operations and some tutorial missions. Once we reach sufficient level, we will need to venture into unlocked areas.>


    The priest didn’t seem to notice Jason’s words.


    Jason turned back to the man. “We accept, priest.”


    <Normally, the non-player characters are sufficient level to kill any monster which enters the base. But … I can’t find the HUD or character screens.>


    Beyul spoke, but this time Jason didn’t seem to notice. “Normal menus, HUD, character screens, search options, external communication, account access, and logout functions are deactivated for the duration of the event’s [28] day timer.”


    Rupert put a hand on Jason’s shoulder and spoke to the winds. <The event has restricted their access.>


    Jason blinked at him. <What event?>


    Rupert shrugged. <We’re supposed to solve the mystery of ‘Shattered Realms,’ or something like that, within the next twenty-eight days.>


    Jason led him away from everyone else. <But we can get out, right?>


    Rupert shook his head. <Beyul just informed me that there is no logging out until the event is finished.>


    Jason paced away from Rupert and back, again. He ran his fingers through his hair. <This is messed up. We have a concert on Friday night. Is there any way to let our fans know?>


    Rupert shook his head. <That’s locked up too.>


    <And by ‘just informed’ you mean …>


    <Beyul told me after you complained about not finding the character screens.>


    Jason paced away and back a couple of times. <Damn. This isn’t good.>


    Rupert thought about when Beyul had first told him when the suit connected. <We are under a severe weather advisory and a voluntary evacuation order. I doubt anyone will be at a concert on Friday.>


    Jason looked about the chapel. <Huh. Never thought of that. We got ourselves to higher ground and never thought about what it would mean for the venue or our fans.” He shook his head. “Pretty selfish of us.>