《Metaverse Mythhunter [Cyberpunk Horror Progression]》 0.1 - Chapter Zero Chapter 0 I twisted the blade free and watched the severed head of the Gorgon tumble off her bare shoulders. It landed with a splat, the dark maroon blood pooling amid broken shards of glass outside the executive highrise suite. All at once her wings ceased their fury. Her deadly talons scraped impotently on the cold, hard balcony floor; it took a bit longer for the writhing venomous serpents sprouting from her decapitated skull to still. [Task Successfully Completed: Remove {unknown} Gorgon from Zenith Towers] The monster was dead. And so were many of my friends. I watched as my partner, frozen in stone, a look of horror forever fixed on their features, began to crumble and dissolve into digital nothingness. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. My gauntlets and blade dripped with the deadly poison blood. I dropped the weapon and removed the gauntlets one by one, letting them fall where I stood. How close had I come to death? Whatever death meant in a place like this. I wearily checked my menu. [Essence: 10 remaining] That was close. The sound of a vibrating electric thrum drew my attention back to the monster¡¯s corpse. The body quivered as motes of bright goldenrod light drew up, weaving together in the air. A glowing crystalline card formed, hovering above the dead Gorgon. [Legendary Data Card obtained - Euryale (Helm / Skill)] I held my breath. I had never seen a Legendary Data Card before, and it was all mine. That, and a substantial payday waiting for me when I turned in this bounty. A spotlight from a Polizei drone buzzing overhead enveloped me, but I ignored it. I reached with my bare hand for the glowing, spinning card, the neon cityscape below oblivious to all that had transpired. 1.0 - Awakening Chapter 1 - Awakening I opened eyes I thought were mine (they weren¡¯t) and, blinking heavily, took in what I assumed to be my world (it wasn¡¯t). In time I would learn that this place¨Cthis reality¨Cwas not something any of us had fully understood, or that anyone had truly been prepared for. But all that was still to come. In those early moments, I was surrounded by nothing but sterile light. The taste of lightning lingered somewhere I could not reach. And a sense of placeless loss. A voice greeted me. Curt and formal. Hello. Who is there? Who is that? I saw no one. Some quality of the voice informed me that it was not what you might call ¡®real.¡¯ An uncanny valley. I am the Concierge. My role is to welcome and orient you to your new world. New world. Where am I? You are in The Collective, the most advanced, fully immersive, shared virtual platform for human consciousness. I don¡¯t understand. Disorientation is a common reaction when entering The Collective. Take all the time you need. Tell me more. What would you like to know more about? The Collective. What is that? The Collective is the most advanced, fully immersive, shared virtual platform for human consciousness. You mentioned that. Where are you? Why can¡¯t I see you? I am simply a virtual assistant, programmed to welcome and orient you to your new world and your role within that world. I do not have a visual form. How did I get here? I don¡¯t¡­ I am having trouble remembering. I realized then that I was not even sure who I was. Autobiographical details eluded me. Like when you try to remember a word¨Cthat exact word on the tip of your tongue¨Cbut no matter what, it just won¡¯t come to you. A dream fleeing from awareness upon waking. Now imagine that, but for the entirety of your identity. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Dissociative amnesia can also be an uncommon but serious reaction when entering The Collective. Dissociative amnesia. Do you know who I am? You are Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Volunteer? But who am I really? Who was I before I¡­ entered this place? I am unable to help you with that, as I am only a virtual assistant and do not have the necessary information or abilities. I can¡¯t see anything. Where is my body? Activating visualization now. A humanoid form took shape in the sterile light. My form, apparently. I could only describe it as a wireframe model. A person-shaped blueprint in three dimensions. Is this what I look like? I seem¡­ unfinished. Accessing visual customization options. In the ether, towering menus appeared. A dizzying array of cosmetic options. The first choice was ¡®skin color.¡¯ I found that with my wireframe self I could reach out and ¡®swipe¡¯ through these options. What to pick? I had no point of reference for what my skin tone should be. I selected one that appealed to me on some aesthetic level. You have selected a premium skin tone. Would you like to unlock this skin tone? Premium skin tone? Somehow the concept felt incorrect, but I could not put into words why that would be. I saw now that the icon of a closed padlock hovered over the skin tone I had selected. Yes. I would like to unlock it. This premium skin tone can be purchased for 10,000 Crypt. Would you like to purchase it? Crypt. Crypt? What is that? Universal Cryptocurrency Credits, or Crypt, for short. How much Crypt do I have? You have 500 Crypt. Oh. I swiped through the menus until I found a total of three skin tones that did not have the locked icon. They were labeled beige, almond, and bistre. For no particular reason, I selected almond. Almond skin tone selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to apply this change? Yes. Soon my hollow, wireframe body was draped in dark tan skin. I was beginning to look (and feel) more human. I saw a sequence of numbers printed on my wrist like a barcode: 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. My Volunteer number, or was it my name? Looking down at my body, I realized I had no hair. Or genitals. The concept of ¡®mannequin¡¯ came to mind. I think something is missing. Down below. But what? I tried to remember, but everything in my mind was as featureless as the nude mound at my groin. Would you like to purchase genitalia? Genitals can be unlocked for 10,000 Crypt. What can I afford with 500 Crypt? There are several free hairstyles available in addition to premium hairstyles, and other default cosmetic options. You can also afford basic clothing items and weapons. Weapons? Why would I need weapons? 1.1 You are a Volunteer. You will need weapons to fulfill your role in The Collective. Tell me more. What is the role of a Volunteer in the Collective? The Collective is the most advanced, fully immersive, shared virtual platform for human consciousness. It is an exciting new frontier and state of the art living space for all mankind while Earth¡¯s greatest minds work to solve the many challenges currently facing the Earth. Volunteers have been tasked with removing invasive entities from The Collective so that future waves of virtual settlers can enjoy their new home. A shared virtual platform. Are you saying this is some form of cyberspace? The metaverse? I am inside a computer simulation right now? The Collective can be thought of as a metaverse, yes. So my mind is in some kind of program. So is this body my¡­ what is the correct term¡­ my avatar? You can think of it as an avatar, yes. But we prefer to call it your True Self (?). You said we. Who is we? Reality Incorporated, the owner and operator of The Collective - ¡°Live your best second life.¡± (?) That name meant nothing to me. Why should it have? I couldn¡¯t even remember my own name. Where is my real, physical body right now? Outside of The Collective, your physical body is in a state of peaceful suspended animation. Suspended animation. But where precisely? What is the exact location? You have insufficient system privileges to access that information. Please contact your system administrator. Who is my system administrator? You have insufficient system privileges to access that information. How can I contact my system administrator? You have insufficient system privileges to access that information. Can you contact my system administrator for me? I am unable to help you with that, as I am only a virtual assistant and do not have the necessary information or abilities. I saw this conversation becoming circular. I had a thousand questions, true. But I also felt overwhelmed by the myriad cosmetic options hovering in front of me¨Ceach with its own price. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. The amount of customization options and sliders from cheekbones, neck width, nose bridge depth, earlobe length, body mass, facial hair, body hair, eye color, eyebrow arch degree, and many more sent a streak of panic through me. I had to get out of there. I quickly selected bald, a free hairstyle option. Bald hairstyle selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to apply this change? Yes. Yes. I rushed through the remaining cosmetic options, choosing the default brown eye color and some free eyebrows. I also kept the default voice, which apparently I had been using¨Ca bland androgynous rasp that faded like vapor soon after passing through my lips. Show me the clothing options. As an entire new array of menus spread across the space before me, I quickly found that there were no free clothing options, and precious few within my limited budget. That isn¡¯t entirely true. The basic footwear was free. After some time, I selected the basic black coveralls for 200 Crypt. Now I was bald, tan, genderless, and wearing black coveralls. I wanted to get this over with. Find some answers. Visual customization complete. Now accessing weapon options. Right. Another array of menus flooded my vision, each one detailing a specific weapon. All of them were locked, and the only ones I could afford were a baton for 100 Crypt, a push dagger for 200 Crypt, or a small handgun for 300 Crypt (ammunition sold separately). 300 crypt for a gun and 10,000 for a penis. Huh. I only had 300 Crypt left. A gun without bullets did not seem useful. I was also hesitant to spend all of my Crypt, not knowing what else faced me in this strange reality. I noticed some accompanying text and selected the ¡®push dagger¡¯ option to learn more about it. [A push dagger is a type of dagger that is designed to be used for thrusting attacks. It typically has a short blade with a triangular or square cross-section and a cylindrical or rectangular hilt. Push daggers are often made of steel or other strong materials, and they may have a guard or knuckle guard to protect the user''s hand. Push daggers are typically used in close-quarters combat, and they can be effective for stabbing an opponent through clothing or armor. They are also relatively easy to conceal, making them a popular choice for self-defense.] I still did not understand what I would be needing a weapon for. The Concierge had mentioned invasive entities, which felt both vague and ominous. The only thing I could think of in a simulated world would be a sort of computer virus. Was I supposed to stab or shoot a computer virus? None of this made sense. I decided to learn more about the ¡®baton¡¯ option. [A baton is a short, heavy stick that is used by law enforcement officers as a compliance tool and defensive weapon. It is typically made of wood, rubber, or plastic. Batons can be used in a variety of ways. Police batons are typically used to strike or jab a person in order to subdue them.] Something about the concept of ¡®law enforcement¡¯ made me hesitant. I could not explain why. I made my selection. Push dagger selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this weapon? No. I do not think I need to ¡®equip¡¯ it right now. Push dagger will be stored in your Equipment. You can view it at any time, and equip it under your personal Equipment menu. Hmmm. Now what? If you are finished with weapons, we can move to the final step of your orientation, the Volunteer Program options. 1.2 Volunteer Program options? I assumed what that might entail. Some sort of settings or accessibility menu for my experience within the simulation. I was wrong. A glowing menu materialized in the ether. It had an ephemeral weight, but I instinctively sensed that this menu was something only I would be able to see. [STATISTICS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS (ADDITIONAL OPTIONS TO BE UNLOCKED AS APPLICABLE)] As I reached out to select the different menu options, they opened, revealing a cascade of submenus. [STATISTICS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS (ADDITIONAL OPTIONS TO BE UNLOCKED AS APPLICABLE)] All of this was, again, overwhelming. Concierge. What am I supposed to do with this? As the final step of your orientation, you must allot additional value into your Statistics subcategories. Please open your Statistics menu. I did as instructed. [STATISTICS As a new Volunteer, you have a value of 10 in each of the 12 statistical subcategories. You have been granted an additional value of 30, to be distributed as integers and multiples of 10 in one or more subcategories. I studied the curious menu again. Now I saw that there was a number, or value, associated with each of these ¡®subcategories.¡¯ [STATISTICS UNASSIGNED VALUE: 30] This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. So I had to somehow assign that additional value of ¡®30¡¯ to these subcategories. Still not being sure as to what any of this was, or the relevance of these subcategories to my role as a Volunteer, I was at a loss. I didn''t even know the meaning of some of these terms. Concierge, I am unsure what I am supposed to do with this. Do you have any recommendations? Volunteers should assign value to their statistical subcategories based on the approach to fulfilling their task that would be most efficacious for them. Each subcategory has direct relevance to your role in removing invasive entities from The Collective. Ok. Attack and Defense are somewhat self-explanatory. Movement as well. What is the Ability category? And the Processing category? The Ability category, the Ability subcategories of Adeptness and Energy, relate to how effective you are at harnessing and using special skills as they relate to your role as Volunteer. The Processing category, and the Processing subcategories of Protocol, Perception, Persuasion, and Probability relate to higher-level cognitive and system functions. Can you give me an example? What is Protocol? A protocol is a set of rules that define how data is transmitted. In this context, it relates to higher cognitive functions such as knowledge, intelligence, logic, and prescience. I thought about this. I had already purchased a push dagger, a handheld melee weapon. I did not know what the policy on refunds or returns was, if such a policy existed. Obviously, the Attack category was most applicable for this weapon and whatever violence I was being expected to carry out. I switched from my Statistics menu over to my Inventory menu. The only thing in the inventory was the push dagger. I reached out and selected the weapon, ignoring a prompt to equip it, to read the description. A three-dimensional representation of the weapon floated in the space in front of me. [Weapon: Push dagger (unequipped) Weapon Type: Melee (Strength) Level: 1 of 1 Frequency: Basic Damage Output: 20 Details: A short metallic blade with a triangular cross-section, cylindrical hilt, and knuckle guard. This dagger is relatively easy to conceal and designed to be used for close-quarters thrusting attacks. Properties: Weapon has the ¡®Basic¡¯ property and cannot be upgraded, enhanced, or exported. Size: 10 metabytes] I could see that this melee weapon was associated with the Strength subcategory. To better use this weapon, then, I would need to have value in Strength. There did not appear to be a minimum requirement. It was a Basic weapon, and I had the bare minimum assigned value in Strength. I closed the Inventory and reopened my Statistics menu. Ok. How do I add value to a category? Select the unassigned value, and drag the integer in a multiple of 10 to the subcategory you wish to assign value to. Simple enough. I dragged a value of 10 from my unassigned value to Strength. The menu flickered, and then the value of my Strength increased. [Strength - 20] You have 20 remaining value to assign. I know. What do you think is the best way to assign these values based on the ¡®invasive entities¡¯ I am supposed to remove? I apologize. I am currently experiencing a higher-than-average request volume. Please wait or try your query later. Enough with this. I split the remaining value between Essence and Speed. [STATISTICS UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0] For your sign-on bonus, you have received an additional 10 metabytes of storage! What? Orientation is now complete. Congratulations, Volunteer! You will be redirected to the Commons in 5 seconds. Please enjoy your stay in The Collective. Live your best second life! (?) 2.0 - Commons Chapter 2 - Commons The sterile light of the ether, the memorial of floating menus, dissolved into nothing. All was black. The fog rolls in like a silent tide, Covering the pond in a blanket of white. The trees are shrouded, the birds are still, And the only sound is the gentle lapping of the waves. Huh? What was that? No answer from the Concierge. A fragment. A thought. A memory? Then it was gone. Whatever it was¨Cgone. The darkness turned once more to light. This time it was neither sterile nor pale, but assaulting the senses. I found myself standing in the middle of a street, if it could be called a street. More of an alley for foot traffic. A small, bustling section of some great city, stretching beyond the horizons of my perception. My eyes moved over an array of neon signs and hanging lanterns. I was not alone. A crowd of people in varied attire brushed by me in the alleyway, moving between open stalls, storefronts, and establishments unknown. Some met my gaze. Most ignored me. In one of the stalls, a heavyset man in a stained apron chopped tentacles off a writhing red cephalopod with a cleaver and tossed them into a sizzling wok while patrons crowded around on stools. ¡°Move it,¡± someone grunted as they roughly shoved past. I became aware that I was blocking easy passage through this sidestreet and stepped to one side. I tried to get my bearings. The sky above was lit with artificial lights, piercing whites, purples, and blues, from windows and structures stretching high above and far away. Beyond that was the dark of night, but I saw no stars nor moon. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The city was built out in nested enclaves. Mounds upon mounds of sleek, jutting structures. A metropolis designed by termites. Most was obscured from my view by the limited sightlines afforded by this crowded alleyway. Seeing another narrow corridor cutting between buildings to what I took to be a larger street, I made my way there, nearly stepping on a cat in the process. It hissed and leaped from one shadow into another. A stray cat? It was not something I expected to encounter. Was that the sort of invasive entity I was supposed to take care of? Leaving the corridor, I found myself at a sort of intersection where three larger streets converged. A hub for whatever this small section of the larger city was. I saw no vehicles here, only people traveling on foot. However, some craft did occasionally pass overhead. On a concrete island in the center of this intersection, large, rotating, floating neon letters declared this area to be The Commons. Directly beneath this gravity-defying sign was a sort of tube extending out of the ground. The term ¡®phone booth¡¯ came to mind, but that wasn¡¯t quite right. Closer inspection revealed that this tube was an Information Kiosk. Ignoring the other buildings, I headed straight for the kiosk. I waited for a scraggly-looking person using the kiosk to finish, then I ducked inside and slid a round, transparent door closed behind me. There was a small square screen with a scratch on it, speaker ports, and a glowing red light. Please scan your identifier. The voice sounded like the Concierge. I hesitated. Please scan your identifier. I assumed this meant the barcode on my wrist, and lined the numbers etched into my tan skin against the red light. There was a chime, the light turned white, and the small screen flickered on. Welcome to The Commons. What information would you like to access? I¡¯m new here. I¡¯m not sure what I need to do next or where to go. I am a Volunteer? There are several locations of interest to Volunteers in The Commons. These include but are not limited to: the Residential Towers, the Armory, the Supply Depot, the Repository, the Data Forge, the Task Assignment Boards, the Restoration Point, the Archives, the MAR Station, and the Rathskeller. Rathskeller. What is that? The Rathskeller is a popular gathering place for Volunteers in The Commons. Please note that Citizens are prohibited from visiting this establishment. Am I a Citizen? No. You are a Volunteer. The little screen highlighted the location of this Rathskeller on a blinking local map, and I made my way there. Other Volunteers. Maybe I could at last get some answers. Minutes later I stood before a graffiti-strewn brutalist structure, several mismatched cubes stacked on top of one another. The bottom level was partially enclosed by slatted fencing and illuminated by disc-shaped streetlights. On one side of the building a staircase descended below a gaudy neon sign of a rat. No words or other symbols, just a rat. This must be the place. 2.1 I cautiously took the stairs, pushing through a pair of black doors, until I found myself in what could only be described as an underground Bohemian tavern merged with a rave. The ceiling had archways at regular intervals, giving the impression of a ribcage. A long, weathered wooden bar lined one wall, with several smaller tables interspersed throughout. In the middle of the establishment was a larger, round table. Several impressive-looking individuals crowded this table, banging large steins in time with the throbbing electronica, pale blue liquid spilling over the rims. There was shouting and raucous laughter. Whoever these people were, they looked like they had answers. I made a beeline for the central table until a hand slammed into my chest, stopping me cold in my tracks. I traced the hand, which was outfitted in a black leather fingerless biker glove, to a scrawny arm belonging to a man seated at the bar. His face was adorned with a ruddy beard, missing in patches, a gap-toothed grin, and the thickest pair of welders goggles. He wore a knit skullcap and spoke in a strange parlance. ¡°Not so skorry there, moodge. Where do you think you''re ittying?¡± I¡¯m sorry, do you know me? ¡°Odin glance is all I need to know you are as they skazat, ¡®fresh off the boat.¡¯ A new arrival. Green. Rookie. Noob. Fresh meat. A virgin¨C¡± Ok, enough already. ¡°¨Cyou¡¯ve got the generic features and platties that just creech Day 1 in the Metaverse.¡± Point taken, I think. Why can¡¯t I go over¨C ¡°That¡¯s the Round Table. Nobody goes to the Round Table unless they¡¯ve been invited.¡± I glanced up to see the rowdy group at the center table stand up. There was a loud cry¨C¡±Glory to the Volunteers!¡±¨Cand patrons throughout the Rathskeller applauded wildly. Then the group made their way to the exit, or the way I had come in. They were all business. A well-built Black man with a shotgun followed by an ashen-skinned woman with intense white dreadlocks passed, the woman briefly meeting my gaze before turning her attention back to her party. ¡°Them¡¯s top-tier hunters. They don¡¯t suffer fools lightly.¡± Is that what you take me to be? A fool? ¡°Easy now. I didn¡¯t mean nothing by it. So what if you smot like a wax museum statue in a cheap Halloween costume? We¡¯ve all been there. So what¡¯s your eemya?¡± My what? ¡°Your eemya. Your name. What are you called?¡± I glanced uncertainly at my wrist. They called me Volunteer 01001110¨C ¡°I was afraid you were ittying to skazat something like that. This really is Day 1 for you, isn¡¯t it. Shiva on a stick.¡± The man held out his opposite wrist, showing off his own barcode: 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00111001. ¡°That¡¯s not a name, that¡¯s a number. We Volunteers go by our own names. But you haven¡¯t been christened yet. Those dva impressive hunks of flesh you were eyeballing earlier¨CBigwig and Rook. Me? I¡¯m Camel.¡± Camel? Why Camel? ¡°They call me Camel because I never miss! Best sharpshooter in The Collective.¡± I don¡¯t see how that¨C At this point, a fastidious feminine bartender leaned over and butted into our conversation. ¡°They call him Camel because he drinks like a camel.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. To punctuate her remark, the bartender refilled Camel¡¯s large transparent mug with the pale blue fluid from a nozzle. ¡°And odin for my droogie,¡± Camel said, patting the barstool next to him. ¡°Take a stooly and have a peet.¡± I assumed from the context that peet meant drink in the strange slang. Having nothing else to do, I obliged. The bartender slid a frothing mug in front of me with a professional smile. Camel, I thought all this¡­ I thought we were inside a computer simulation. Why are we drinking? ¡°True, your avatar don¡¯t need pishcha or peet to survive here. But this ain¡¯t about needs, it¡¯s about wants. The heart wants what the heart wants! Think of it as a psychological need if you must.¡± Camel gulped his drink greedily, wiping the artificial fluid off his artificial beard. I took a tentative sip of mine and felt a cooling sensation rush through me. It tasted like the first snowfall of winter. Huh. Psychological needs. ¡°All the comforts of domy. For the right price.¡± Price. How much? ¡°That¡¯ll be 10 Crypt. Shall I open a tab for you?¡± the bartender asked, smiling. Uh, sure. Down to 90 Crypt. Just great. ¡°The only veshch Reality Inc. cares more about than having us clean up The Collective is making a profit.¡± So are you a Volunteer? ¡°Of course. There¡¯s nobody down here in this rat cellar but us Volunteers.¡± At this, Camel shouted a hearty ¡®Glory to the Volunteers!¡¯ and the tavern swelled with another round of applause and cheering. The strange thing is, I can¡¯t seem to remember volunteering for anything. My life outside of this place, who I was¨Cor am¨Cit is a blank. ¡°Same for us all, droogie. We all conveniently were afflicted with ¡®dissociative amnesia¡¯ upon arrival. We¡¯ve got lewdies rabbiting on that.¡± Has anyone told you that you have a very unique way of speaking? ¡°Nah, I''ve just been here a long raz. Longer than most.¡± I took another sip of my drink. The frosty sensation was growing on me. It occurred to me then that I had no vagina or penis. No urethra, either way. Maybe not even a bladder. After I drink this¡­ how do I¡­? How am I supposed to, you know¡­? Camel looked at me blankly, but the helpful bartender spoke up. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just information. Ones and zeroes.¡± Bottoms up, then. I turned back to Camel. What is it exactly that we are supposed to have volunteered for? The Concierge mentioned ¡®invasive entities.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯ll put it really simple. We kill monsters.¡± Monsters? ¡°That¡¯s right. Nasty beasts keep popping up in the Metaverse, and Bolshy Bratty needs us to put them down. The best we can figure it, they sent an entire first wave of Citizens into The Collective. Then these monsters appeared. Lewdies got hurt, or razdraz. I¡¯m sure somebody lost pretty polly. They paused all future waves until we Volunteers can make the place safe again.¡± I don¡¯t understand. If this is a computer program, a simulation, why would there be monsters? Shouldn¡¯t the company be in control of their product? Why would they program something dangerous that could hurt users? ¡°That¡¯s the ten billion Crypt question.¡± So is it a computer virus? A glitch in the system? Corporate espionage? Cyberterrorism? Cyberwarfare? ¡°We''ve got lewdies rabbiting on that too.¡± I took his meaning to be that they, the Volunteers, had people working on that problem. It seemed that the system itself was not offering much help or guidance in this area. What about cybersecurity? Shouldn¡¯t the corporation have some form of anti-virus software? Why rely on Volunteers to clean up their mess? ¡°Ah, there are the Polizei bots, sure. But they were designed to keep the Citizens in line. These monsters are a threat Bolshy Bratty never planned for. The bots are defenseless against them.¡± Just trying to wrap my head around this. There are Citizens and Volunteers, humans, but also Bots, who are not per se real. And Monsters. Camel finished his mug and belched loudly. ¡°That¡¯s the long and the short of it. The Citizens keep to themselves. Or rather, we are kept to ourselves. The Commons is where the dredges of the Metaverse cheest up. A temporary shanty town for us low-class hunters.¡± I looked at the bartender. She, if it was a she, wore a button-down white shirt, a black vest, and a smart black bowtie. She had an asymmetrical haircut and flawless white teeth. And what about you? Are you real, or some kind of bot? ¡°Do I look real?¡± she asked, never breaking her smile. ¡°Do I sound real?¡± Yes. ¡°Then what difference does it make?¡± The bartender turned her attention to wiping down the bar with a cloth. Camel tapped me on the shoulder. ¡°The best way to explain the situation is to show you. Let¡¯s go to the Bounty Boards.¡± 3.0 - Bounties Chapter 3 - Bounties After paying my tab, I followed the unusual man named Camel out of the Rathskeller and across The Commons. He had a slight limp in his gait, and I thought I detected a hunch in his back. Could that be why he was called Camel? And if one could purchase whatever customized body type they wanted for their avatar in The Collective, why would somebody choose to go around in that inelegant state? The longer I spent here, the more questions I had. I concentrated as hard as I could as we walked, trying to recall some glimpse of my previous life. A kernel of truth. But try as I might, it was as if my life before coming here was completely severed from my present consciousness. No doubt something to complain about to my system administrator. ¡°There¡¯s the Task Assignment Boards, or as we Volunteers call them, the Bounty Boards.¡± Camel indicated a series of large rectangular touchscreen panels, unfolded like an oriental room divider by way of a fast food drive-through menu. The Boards were located near two storefronts. The signs on the stores read Armory and Supply Depot, respectively. Camel scanned his Volunteer barcode and the screens lit up. A shifting array of data lines filled the screens, changing in real-time. The concept of ¡®airport flight tracking board¡¯ came to mind. Some lines moved up, some moved down. Some turned red and inaccessible, while others were crossed out before fading. I deduced that there must be other access points within the city. ¡°Competition is fierce. Bounties are the lifeblood of Volunteers. A newbie like yourself would have a hard raz securing a decent bounty. Luckily you have me!¡± Camel selected one of the white line items, and the display changed. Information on the Task, or Bounty, filled the rectangular screen closest to us. [Task Assignment: Remove Hellhounds from MAR Station Service Tunnels Three {common} Hellhounds have been detected in the service tunnels beneath the Palisades MAR Station. Task Completion Award: 2,000 Crypt Do you accept this Task?] ¡°What do you skazat? Want to go halfsies with me? Scan your barcode and we can split the reward. That¡¯s a hundred peets with my eemya of it.¡± Hellhounds? Whatever it was I had expected, hellhounds were not it. I reluctantly complied, scanning the number on my wrist beneath the red light. Soon our two Volunteer numbers were highlighted and assigned to this Task, making this particular bounty inaccessible to any other Volunteers. ¡°Your first hunt! I know the Palisades, just a couple stops down the line. You need to pick up any gear before we go? This is the shopping district.¡± I doubt I could afford anything at this point. I have a dagger. Are we really going to have to fight hellhounds? Is that a codeword for something? ¡°Just stick close to me and you¡¯ll be fine.¡± I followed Camel to the MAR Station and after paying 10 additional Crypto at a kiosk, boarded a sleek bullet train that appeared to magnetically hover over a central track. We were the only passengers in the car, but an automated voice and pulsing lights addressed us as if we were in a rush hour crowd. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Now leaving The Commons. Next stop, Royal Heights, followed by The Palisades. We rode in silence, Camel seated and I hanging on a strap. I felt anxious. The train moved fast, the bright city lights whipping by through the windows. Now arriving at Royal Heights Station. The train slowed, stopped, and the doors opened. No passengers departed or boarded. I wondered just how many Citizens lived in The Collective. Camel had mentioned a ¡®first wave.¡¯ Now leaving Royal Heights. Next stop, The Palisades, followed by Lower Dresden. Camel reached and groped in the empty air in front of him, and I worried that I had hitched myself to a mentally ill person. But then I realized he was accessing his own personal menu. Suddenly, a large, scoped, bolt action hunting rifle materialized in his hands. He slung it around his back with a strap. He reached back into his invisible (to me) menu. Soon, what looked like a flashlight appeared in his other hand. Now arriving at The Palisades Station. ¡°This is us, droogie.¡± I followed Camel through the sliding doors and soon the train sped away, leaving us in an empty, neon-lit subterranean transit station. Camel paced the station close to the track, searching for something. I took the opportunity to open my own menu, navigating down to the Inventory section. [INVENTORY I was concerned. Where did my push dagger go? I spent good money on that thing. Taking a breath, I backed out of the Inventory menu and searched my Equipment menu instead. [EQUIPMENT Oh, good. I reached out and selected the push dagger. [Equip push dagger?] I selected the option to equip the dagger. Suddenly, a swirl of digitized pixels solidified in my hand. My 200 Crypt push dagger materialized. I felt its weight in my hand. I tested the sharpness of the blade. It sure felt real. ¡°Aha! Here it is,¡± Camel said. I walked over to him. He pointed with his flashlight at a metal grate underneath the central track of the bullet train. ¡°Help me lift this up. We need to hurry before another expresso rapido comes through. Otherwise, we¡¯ll be electrocuted or¨CSPLAT.¡± I did not like the sound of that, but Camel was already down beside the track, trying to lift the metal grating up. Looking down both directions of the tunnel, I hopped beside him and stuffed my fingers into the grate, straining to lift it up. It was stuck. I thought I sensed the vibrations of an approaching train, but it could have been my imagination. Finally, working together, the heavy grate came loose. Camel slid it to one side and gestured to the gaping hole leading into darkness. ¡°I would make a joke about age before beauty, but you¡¯ve got neither.¡± It¡¯s dark down there. You¡¯ve got the flashlight. Please, I insist. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Camel lowered himself down into the hole, careful not to catch his rifle on the edges. Then he was gone. I peered into the space below but saw nothing. Then, a white glow. He had turned on his light. The vibration returned, louder this time. It was not my imagination. There was a train approaching the station, and fast. 3.1 As two piercing headlights rounded the bend, I quickly jumped feet-first into the hole. The train wooshed to a stop over my head. Ten seconds later it left the station once more. I sat blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness. Camel shined his flashlight on the walls and floor of the service tunnel. The rounded space was about five feet high, and I had to crouch to keep from hitting my head. If there were any lights down here, they were turned off. Everything was dark except for Camel¡¯s sweeping beam. I felt intensely claustrophobic. Now what? How do we find these, uh¡­ hellhounds. ¡°If you lovett a whiff of brimstone, that means we¡¯re getting close. There¡¯s been a few hellhounds around here lately. They¡¯ve moved down the tunnels from New Dresden¡¯s warehouse district.¡± And what does brimstone smell like? ¡°Sulfur.¡± I sniffed the air. I didn¡¯t detect anything, aside from concrete, static, and the pungent odor of my companion¨Csweat, beer, and cigarettes. Did they really have to program smells like that? Camel stalked forward in a hunched-over duckwalk, clipping the flashlight onto one side of his rifle and sweeping the barrel back and forth in front of us. I just kept following the pool of white light, staying close behind, careful not to bump into him with the sharp point of my weapon. We continued this way for some time. I strained to listen for any sounds beyond our own or to smell anything reminiscent of burning. I could not guess how long we had been moving through the service tunnel, or how far we had gone from the station. ¡°These tunnels intersect with other tunnels up ahead. It¡¯s like a rabbit warren down here.¡± You¡¯ve been down here before. You aren¡¯t worried about getting lost? ¡°All roads lead to Rome, as they skazat.¡± As time dragged on, my thighs, calves, and lower back began to ache. Camel seemed to notice and suggested we take a break. We each leaned against one side of the hard, curved tunnel wall and I massaged the tops of my thighs with the hand that was not holding the dagger. Camel switched off his flashlight and we were immersed in total darkness. I did not care for that. Then I noticed a faint green glow from somewhere down the tunnel. With the flashlight off, were my eyes playing tricks on me? Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Do you see that glow down there? ¡°Where?¡± It is very faint, but further down the tunnel. I see something glowing green. ¡°Ah, yes. You want to get a closer smot?¡± I said I would, and we inched carefully down the tunnel toward the glow. Camel kept his light off, so I made sure not to bang my head on the roof of the tunnel as I shuffled forward. When we reached the spot, I saw that a few scant green ferns were sprouting incongruously out of the concrete floor of the service tunnel. I saw no soil or water source, but there were small cracks in this section of the tunnel. The ferns had small yellow flowers cascading from their centers. Cancel switched his light back on, appraising the flora. ¡°Yep, invasive species.¡± Invasive? You mean, like the creatures we are supposed to be hunting? ¡°That¡¯s right. There have been flora and fauna breaking through into The Collective. They don¡¯t follow the rules of the system. Try to hold your rooker over them, and viddy if you can identify what they are. But don¡¯t touch them¨Cthey could be dangerous.¡± My rooker? ¡°Your hand, droogie. Your hand!¡± I did as instructed, holding my bare hand out and over one of the ferns nearest me. Nothing happened. I tried to consciously access my menu, and suddenly the fern was outlined in a faint border of light. Hovering my hand in place, information began to appear before my eyes. [{common} fern flower detected. Crafting material. Attributes unknown] It says it is a common fern flower. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be dangerous then. You can harvest it if you want. I don¡¯t go in for crafting, but you might be able to turn it into something useful later on.¡± Like what? ¡°Beats me. Like I said, I don¡¯t go in for crafting.¡± Tentatively, I reached out with the tip of my dagger and, holding the plants in place with my other hand, trimmed the yellow flowers from each of the ferns one by one. Soon the ferns themselves dissolved into inky nothing and were gone, leaving only the cracks in the service tunnel. The yellow buds were gone from my hand. [3 {common} fern flowers added to your Inventory] I checked my menu to confirm. [INVENTORY I wanted to select the item and learn more, but I was conscious about wasting more time while we had a Task to complete. Thank you for indulging me. Should we press on? ¡°I¡¯m ready when you are.¡± We continued to inch forward through the dark tunnel. How exactly do we hunt a pack of hellhounds? Are we following a trail? Are we setting a trap? Using bait? ¡°That¡¯s the horrorshow veshch about hellhounds. They are hungry buggers, likely viddying for their next meal.¡± I squinted in the dim light, trying to make sense of his bizarre word salad. He soon clarified. ¡°They are the ones hunting us.¡± 4.0 - Hellhounds Chapter 4 - Hellhounds So the hungry hellhounds would be hunting us. I wondered then if the entire reason Camel had brought me along was to serve as bait. Regardless, all I could do now was stay close to the man with the scoped rifle and hope for the best. Shining his light, Camel illuminated an opening in the tunnel ahead. He cautiously approached, me close at his heels. Our service tunnel led into a subterranean juncture, a cross cutting concrete basin that gave the impression of a dry aqueduct, and then continued on the other side. Camel stealthily climbed down into the wider space, sweeping with his light. I scrambled to keep up. At least here I could stand, the ceiling disappearing somewhere in the darkness above. Then it hit me. The unmistakable odor of something burning. ¡°Hellhounds,¡± Camel whispered. I nodded my head, not that he could see me in the darkness. I gripped my push dagger tight and followed as Camel stalked into the middle of the room, looking left and right. Camel froze, lowering the barrel of his rifle. I tried to follow his gaze and there, in the darkness at the far side of the room, a pair of red eyes burned back at us. I heard a scratching noise, nails on the concrete floor, then a low growl. Camel was silent, calm, raising the rifle and training the barrel on the hellhound. Illumined in the halo of the white flashlight beam, I saw it. It was larger than an average dog. Its face was all black matted fur, gnarled and intense. Its eyes glowed an unnatural red. Its black lips were pulled back in a snarl, revealing fangs. It was motionless in the flashlight beam, except for lowering its head. Then¨CCRACK! There was a muzzle flash and an ear-splitting shot from Camel¡¯s rifle reverberated around the enclosed space. I involuntarily covered my ears, surprised by the sudden sound. With a strangled whimper, the black dog collapsed, falling out of the beam of light. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°That¡¯s odin down.¡± Camel pulled back the bolt handle on his rifle, pulling a fresh cartridge out of a bandolier I had not previously noticed he was wearing under his patched jacket. Ears still ringing from the shot, I did not hear the growls from the other side of the room, behind Camel. But I did see two more pairs of red eyes emerge from the deeper darkness. Look out! Behind you! Camel swiveled, the light following his movements. Two more hellhounds charged at us, Camel still trying to reload his rifle. I dashed forward, closing the distance between myself and Camel, brandishing my push dagger. The hounds were fast. They were on us in an instant, one latching onto my left arm with its jaws. I screamed, or at least I tried to in my weak starter voice. I felt the fangs sink into my flesh, warm blood dripping down my forearm. My entire arm felt like it was on fire. I saw ominous words appear before my eyes. [Damage received. Essence: 10 remaining] The other hound jumped on Camel, knocking him to the ground with a crash. His rifle fell from his grasp, the flashlight beam pointing askew at the wall, bathing us in dark. I heard the man grunting, fighting for his life. All I could see were those two red eyes, the large face of the hound latched onto my arm. In desperation, I plunged at those eyes with my dagger, stabbing again and again. More blood sprayed out, but this time it was not mine. The hound released its grip on my arm, turning away, one of its eye sockets shredded and bloody. I stabbed again blindly, lunging for the hairy bulk. I made contact, the sharp tip of my blade sinking into the chest. I pushed as hard as I could until the hilt was buried in the flesh of the beast, and I held it there, fighting against the strong flailing of the creature. Unearthly moans issued from the hound as it fought, but I held on for dear life. Behind me, another shot rang out. A whimper and the sound of a body slumping on concrete. Soon, Camel was beside me, shining his light at the beast I was locked in mortal combat with. With the benefit of improved visibility, I removed my dagger and plunged it again and again in the chest, hoping against hope to strike the beast¡¯s heart or some vital organ. The smell of sulfur and blood filled my nostrils. At last, the hellhound ceased its fighting. I pulled out my blade, caked with blood and black fur, and stumbled backwards. My left arm burned like crazy. Camel shined a light on it. ¡°That doesn''t smot horrorshow, droogie. Might want to get a bandage on that until you can get it fixed.¡± In the light, I noticed that Camel¡¯s face was bleeding from large scratches. Your face¡­ ¡°I¡¯ll be alright. Not my first rodeo.¡± There was a chirp, and a system notification appeared before my eyes. [Task Successfully Completed: Remove Hellhounds from MAR Station Service Tunnels] 4.1 Camel shined the light on the three corpses in turn, and I saw that they began to glow. A low vibrating thrum filled the space, and motes of light drew up from the bodies and gathered in the air in strange, geometric shapes. Some were like shards of sea glass, and others were distinctly crystalline in appearance¨Call glowed with a neon hue. It was beautiful in the low light, like fireflies at dusk, and I reached out to touch the dancing lights. Suddenly I felt their substance absorb into my body, leaving only a fading halflife in the room. [Common Data Card Fragments obtained - Hellhound - 4/10] [10 Crystals obtained] I shuddered. Absorbing these materials felt like my stomach dropping out. ¡°Hey now. Why¡¯d you take all the loot for yourself?¡± Camel asked, shining the light directly in my face. I raised my hand to shield my eyes, still clutching the dagger. Was he going to shoot me? ¡°Relax. You didn¡¯t know any better. Some advice¨Chunters that rabbit together typically split the rewards. All the rewards, not just the pretty polly.¡± I apologized profusely. I told him I had no idea what those lights were, or what would happen if I touched them. He shrugged it off and lowered the light. What were those things? Card fragments? Crystals? ¡°These monsters, they aren¡¯t supposed to be part of the system yet their properties interact with the system in weird ways. We Volunteers have learned to use that to our advantage. Check your menus.¡± I did as I was instructed, first accessing my Inventory menu. [INVENTORY Next I checked my Economy menu. [ECONOMY When backing out of the sub-menus, I noticed that another tab had been added to the bottom of my list that I had not noticed earlier. [STATISTICS EQUIPMENT If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS] Tasks. So that must be where the bounties, or Tasks, were tracked. I selected the menu and searched forward until I found what I was looking for. [TASKS I understood by now that if I wanted to select that completed Task, I would be able to view more details. But I left it alone for the time being. I assumed Camel would walk me through how to cash the Task in. With only 80 Crypt to my name (or lack of name, as it were), the prospect of earning 1,000 Crypt from a split bounty sounded nice. Although the searing pain in my left arm made it hard to think of anything positive right now. Before closing out of my menus, I unequipped the push dagger, and it vanished from my hand, returning to its invisible storage space within my Equipment menu. Fragments¡­ materials¡­ crystals. There was a lot to keep track of. ¡°A successful hunt calls for a smoke,¡± Camel said. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and lit up a cigarette. The tip burned bright in the dark. The smell of cheap tobacco smoke mingled with the lingering sulfur. ¡°Want a cancer?¡± No, thank you. I don¡¯t smoke. Or, at least I don¡¯t think I smoke. Either way, the offer doesn¡¯t appeal to me right now. Camel took a heavy drag from the cigarette that my rational mind told me was nothing but an artificial construct, but seemed in every way real. Then again, how could my rational mind conceive of stabbing a hellhound to death in some underground tunnel? What happens next? ¡°We return to the Bounty Boards and deng in for our reward. 1,000 Crypt for each of us. An even split.¡± He continued to smoke, and I waited patiently for him to finish. There was no way I was getting out of this place without him. I was completely dependent on both his sense of direction and his flashlight. Strangely, I began to sense the smell of sulfur returning, even after the three bodies had dissolved into blotchy ink. Camel did not seem to notice. Maybe the odor was masked by the cigarette, or maybe it was normal for these scents to linger on after a kill. But the smell grew stronger, and stronger yet. Then, emerging from the service tunnel that continued through the other side of the wall, I sensed a deeper darkness. A shadow within the shadow, swallowing up the light cast toward the ceiling from Camel¡¯s rifle slung over his shoulder. Camel, I think there is something¡­ ¡°AGGHHHH!¡± Too late. A dark form pounced on Camel from behind. His scream was silenced with a wet, sickening crunch. I saw his body fall hard to the ground, his rifle slamming into concrete. The flashlight detached from its perch and rolled in my direction. Terrified, I grabbed the light and backed away from the shadowy form. I shined the light defensively, and a large, black head swiveled up to glare in my direction. It was another hellhound, yet larger than before. Fresh gore dripped from its jowls where it had torn Camel¡¯s throat. A system notification chirped. [{uncommon} entity detected - Baskerville Hound] I dropped the flashlight and heard the shattering of glass. Everything was dark, save for two burning eyes moving in my direction. 5.0 - Baskerville Chapter 5 - Baskerville I braced myself for the attack, too paralyzed with fear to even attempt to equip my dagger. If a seasoned hunter like Camel had been killed by this creature in a matter of seconds, what chance did I have in total darkness? The red eyes moved closer, and I felt hot, acrid breath on my face from the snarling canine mouth. The smell of sulfur was overpowering. Just when I thought all was lost, two loud metal clangs echoed through the concrete chamber. Several phosphorescent tubes tumbled from holes in the ceiling, landing and rolling through the empty aqueduct. The beast, now silhouetted by the glowing green lights, turned with a snarl. Two figures slid down hanging ropes, descending into the chamber from either side. I recognized them immediately¨Cthe ones Camel had referred to as Bigwig and Rook. The heavy hitters who rolled with an entourage of Round Table hunters. ¡°Rook! There it is!¡± Bigwig shouted, letting go of the rope half way down and landing heavily on black combat boots. He wore black pants, a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, earrings, and some sort of gold medallion worn on a chain around his neck. Several brown straps or belts tied around his waist and thighs held holsters for various weapons, but the one he appeared to favor was a snub-nosed double-barrel shotgun. On the other side of the room, Rook slid down head first, using only her legs to grip the black rope. She carried two automatic handguns, trained on the hound. I saw that she wore a type of metallic tank top or bodice above black cargo pants. It was actually hard to know where the clothing ended and where her flesh began, as if the top were part of her. A metal collar was fitted around her neck, with chains leading somewhere behind her back. Her face was marked and scarred, and her thin eyes appeared pupilless in the glow of the phosphorescence. The Baskerville Hound lunged at Bigwig, and I saw liquid fire seeping from its mouth. Bigwig strode confidently forward, unloading blast after blast from his shotgun, punching holes in the large creature¡¯s black fur. Multiple shots didn¡¯t stop it¨Cthis creature was a magnitude of strength beyond the simple Hellhounds. With a guttural roar, the dog vomited a stream of fire in Bigwig¡¯s direction. He ducked and rolled out of the way in one fluid movement, reloading his shotgun. Next Rook made her move. She did an acrobatic forward flip off the rope and landed on her feet, catlike, then side-stepped, shooting rapid bursts from her handguns at the hound¡¯s head. Furious, it turned its attention away from Bigwig and charged toward her. ¡°Oh, no you don¡¯t,¡± Bigwig growled, punching holes in its hindquarters with another series of double-barreled shots. The beast howled in pain and fury, blood leaking onto the floor. Having spent both ammo clips, Rook dropped the handguns and reached behind her back. Now I saw what the chains around her collar were connected to. In a flash, she brandished two razor sharp sickles connected to metal chains, reminiscent of kusarigama. She leaped into the air and landed, driving the tips of both blades into the monster¡¯s skull. It let out an almost porcine squeal as it died. Soon it was melting away in a black puddle, and shimmering ephemera once again materialized in the air above the corpse. Without thinking, I stalked toward the dancing lights. I felt drawn to them. They were hypnotic. Beautiful. A shout from Bigwig snapped me out of my reverie. ¡°Hey! Stop right there!¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. He pointed his shotgun at me. I had not kept track, and couldn¡¯t tell if it was empty or not. Either way, the gesture had its intended effect. I froze and raised my hands in the air. ¡°We saw you snatch the loot from Camel earlier,¡± Rook said. Her voice was like oil dripping off the edge of a knife. ¡°Little magpie can¡¯t keep its beak off the shiny baubles.¡± I began to protest, but the mention of Camel made me search the ground for him. His body was gone, leaving only a bloody stain behind. Oh, no. Camel. ¡°He¡¯s the least of your concerns right now,¡± Bigwig said, pressing the shotgun under my chin. ¡°In fact, you might as well go join him. We¡¯ve been tracking this kill for quite some time. The bounty payment and the detritus are ours.¡± Rook glided over, the sickles now reattached to her back, and gently put her hand on the barrels of the shotgun, pushing the weapon away. She looked me up and down with those pupil-less eyes, and it felt like she was seeing through me. ¡°No need for that. This one is no threat to us.¡± I didn¡¯t steal any loot. I didn¡¯t intend to. Camel was my friend, or, I should say he was helping me. He took me on my first hunt. ¡°Best bet would be to steer clear of him,¡± Bigwig grunted, stowing his shotgun and stooping to gather the glowing sticks that littered the bloodied ground. Why is that? He said he was the best sharpshooter in The Collective. Bigwig snorted. ¡°He¡¯s alright with that antique rifle of his. But the man¡¯s got no ambition. He¡¯s been here longer than most, and what does he have to show for it? Spends all his Crypt on drink, nostalgia cigarettes, and pleasure bots. I think that¡¯s why he¡¯s named Camel. His favorite brand of nostalgia cigarettes.¡± You said pleasure bots? ¡°That got your attention, eh Magpie? You hanging around the Red Light too?¡± Pleasure, I¡­ I literally can¡¯t afford that kind of pleasure. If you know what I mean. Ignoring the comment, Rook came close and inspected my bleeding left arm. It still burned, now that the adrenaline of the attack was wearing off. She tore off the sleeve of my black coveralls. Ouch. Hey. These clothes cost me 200 Crypt. She produced some sort of vial (materializing it from her Inventory) and rubbed a chalky salve on the wound. My skin steamed when the salve contacted it, but the burning sensation reduced immediately. Thank you. ¡°Some believe his data is corrupted,¡± Rook said, rubbing in the salve. ¡°He was an early Volunteer and the rumor is his avatar missed an update to align with a newer patch. Whatever the truth, Camel is careless. Teaming up with careless hunters is bad news. That¡¯s why Bigwig and I stick together. He¡¯s the only one I trust to have my back.¡± Was careless. ¡°Say again?¡± You said Camel is careless, but I think you meant he was careless. That thing got him. Bigwig shook his head dismissively. ¡°Shiva on a stick. You¡¯re out here in the tunnels and you don¡¯t know your right from left, up from down.¡± Rook finished applying the salve and wiped her hands on her pants. Then, in a coordinated motion as if they had done so a hundred times before, her and Bigwig approached the floating pool of rewards from the kill and reached in with their hands simultaneously, equally dividing the spoil. ¡°Go back to the Rathskeller. You¡¯ll find Camel. Just be sure to spit the reward from your bounty with him, otherwise he might come aiming for you next with that rifle of his.¡± Rook and Bigwig turned to leave. Wait! They paused, but did not turn back to face me. Can I come with you? I don¡¯t know how to get back to The Commons from here. I have no light. And I have so many questions. Rook reached into his inventory and materialized one of the glowing sticks I had seen before, roughly the size of a stick of dynamite. He tossed it backwards over his head and I reached out to catch it. ¡°There. You got light. Go back the way you came and you¡¯ll be fine. Probably.¡± Rook snuck one last glance in my direction, her impressive white dreads swaying with her every movement. ¡°No hard feelings, Magpie. You¡¯ll only slow us down.¡± Then they began climbing the ropes back up through the holes in the ceiling, pulling the ropes up after them. There would be no way for me to follow them, and I was alone in the darkness with only a green phosphorescent aura. Magpie, huh? They had called me that nickname repeatedly and in such a way that I had an unpleasant premonition it would stick. Standing in the echoey concrete chamber, I imagined what I would do if more of those glowing red eyes were to appear. My skin rippled with gooseflesh at the thought, and I quickly climbed back into the claustrophobic service tunnel. 6.0 - Payment Chapter 6 - Payment I had no way to track time. Clutching the glowing flare, terrified that it would sputter out at any moment, I inched and crawled my way back through the dark service tunnels. Despite the linear journey, retracing my steps in reverse made me second guess myself constantly. Everything looked different in the green aura than in the white, directed beam of Camel¡¯s flashlight. I was desperate for a familiar landmark. Shouldn¡¯t I have reached the entrypoint by now? Had I overshot the Palisades station? Had someone closed the service hatch overhead, dooming me to wander this concrete labyrinth until¡­ until what? Eventually I passed by the cracks in the tunnel floor where the strange ferns had sprouted and where I collected the fern flowers. I checked to see if they were still listed in my inventory. (They were). I was curious to see if any of the ferns had somehow regrown. (They had not). At least I had the reassurance that I was heading in the right direction. At last I heard a rumbling overhead. It was the train. I knew that I was close. A shaft of light breaking through the roof of the tunnel confirmed it. At that moment the phosphorescent glow faded, and I dropped the spent cylinder where I stood. When I was confident that no trains were approaching, I hoisted myself up and out of the service tunnel, wincing in pain as I strained the ragged flesh of my left forearm. Out of common courtesy, I returned the metal grating to its original place, then climbed onto the platform. Now how was I going to get back to The Commons? Looking around, I found a transit map on the sparse tiled wall of the station and studied it. This was apparently the Diamond Line, which hugged a crystalline bay of sorts in a semicircle. Taking it further would lead me through several additional stations, and likely exhaust my remaining Crypt. I had to ascend one level and cross a small pedestrian bridge to catch the train in the other direction, back through Royal Heights to The Commons. I did so, paying another 10 Crypt for the privilege. I slumped on a bench seat in the sleek, abandoned train, exhausted. I now had just 70 Crypt left. I was hemorrhaging money faster than I was hemorrhaging blood. I inspected my arm. The injury didn¡¯t appear to have gotten any worse. I was thankful for the salve that the dread-headed woman, Rook, had applied. An unexpected kindness. I thought to explore my menus more but the train was rapidly approaching the station. Now arriving at The Commons Station. I detrained and made my way out of the MAR Station and back toward the center of The Commons, trying to recall where the Task Assignment Boards were located. I found them, and hung back while a few rough-looking Volunteers I didn¡¯t recognize transacted some business. When they left, I stepped out of the shadows and approached, scanning my code under the red light. The following text appeared: [Task Complete: Remove Hellhounds from MAR Station Service Tunnels Assigned to: Volunteer 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00111001 and Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Task Completion Award: 2,000 Crypt Would you like to receive payment?] I saw the other number, the one I recognized from Camel¡¯s wrist, X-ed out. It made me doubt what Bigwig had said about finding Camel back in the Rathskeller. Was he really gone then? [Would you like to receive payment?] I would. For a moment I felt a sharp thrill as electronic bits streamed into me, like coins pouring from a slot machine jackpot. Then, the boards were back to flight tracking mode, bounties shifting in real time across the screens. I heard a ping and a message appeared from my personal menu. [Alert! Account storage almost full.] Huh. Account storage? A short woman with a pink mohawk, spiked shoulder pads, and a heavy machine gun tapped her boot impatiently behind me, waiting for her turn to access the boards. I mumbled an apology and stepped away, opening my menu screen. [STATISTICS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY ECONOMY Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. MEMORY STATUS TASKS UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 (ADDITIONAL OPTIONS TO BE UNLOCKED AS APPLICABLE)] Where would I find account storage? I didn¡¯t recall seeing anything like that under statistics, equipment, or inventory. Reaching out, I selected the Economy, Memory, Status, and Tasks menus, watching the additional submenus unfold like matryoshkas. [ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS Infernal Burn? That was something I would need to look at more closely, but first I zeroed in on the Storage submenu. [MEMORY I hovered my hand over the numbers nested underneath Storage, and more information appeared. [197.7 of 207.7 / 210 metabytes I opened Defense, drilling down even further. [DEFENSE I remembered the attack from the hellhound that gave me the wound on my arm. I had seen the words ¡®damage received, essence remaining: 10.¡¯ It seemed that everything I had, whether that was value invested in statistical categories, weapons, items, even currency, had some sort of weight. Except for the free ¡®basic footwear,¡¯ which apparently was purely cosmetic and without function. And I was just a few metabytes shy of maxing out the 210 metabyte limit in my storage. Had I not received the 10 points of damage in that fight, I would not have even been able to withdraw the full bounty payment. There was so much I didn¡¯t understand about this virtual world. The orientation had been a joke. Why couldn¡¯t there have been a proper tutorial? This was the very definition of on-the-job training. My head was swimming. I backed out of Memory and Storage, briefly wondering what the History submenu would show, and opened up my Economy menu just to make sure I really had received the full payment. [ECONOMY Okay. Good. I liked seeing that amount. The sizable Crypt infusion energized me and I wanted to go on a shopping spree, eyeing the bright storefronts on the other side of the lot. But then I remembered Camel. I had to at least see what had become of him. So, after getting lost twice, I asked directions from some passersby and found the Rathskeller again. Descending into the buzzy den, I saw no familiar faces. No Camel. No Bigwig. No Rook. Not even the bartender from earlier. Instead, a thin shirtless man with ear gauges and a pierced lower lip served drinks to the thirsty crowd. I sidled up to the bar, trying to get his attention. He ignored me. I tried to call him over, but between the pulsing volume of the environs and my unimpressive default voice, I had no success. I climbed the stairs and looked around outside. Two armed men, presumably hunters like myself, leaned against the wall, conversing in hushed tones. One was smoking. The other had a lower jaw the color of polished steel. I started to approach with a question on my lips and they stopped, turning to look me over with incredulity. ¡°Go frag yourself!¡± So much for Volunteer solidarity. I turned away, unsure of my next steps. But then I remembered what Bigwig had said, that Camel had an affinity for ¡®nostalgia cigarettes.¡¯ Where might someone acquire such a thing in this world? I retraced my steps through the throbbing, bustling night until I reached the building labeled the Supply Depot. The building was tall, but it was unclear if it was a single story or multiple stories from the outside. The exterior was bright red with white symbols, with flashing protean neon signage wrapping around the top like a headband. Large windows revealed narrow rows packed with merchandise. A few people milled about inside. I had no reference for what time of day it might be, or time of night, rather. If such things even existed in The Collective. I made my way inside. Perusing the aisles, I realized that all of the merchandise I had seen from outside were nothing but holographic displays. The shelves were lined with 3D rotating images of all manner of goods, with associated price tags. I guess there was no shoplifting in a place like this. I saw a shimmering pack of cigarettes with a silhouette of a camel twirling slowly among other brands in the section labeled nostalgia cigarettes, surrounded by a dazzling array of other nostalgia items. Fillinchen crisp bread. Mocca fix. These were unfamiliar to me. An elderly woman of unplaceable ethnicity sat on a stool behind a checkout counter, twirling a plastic parasol. ¡°You know, it¡¯s going to rain soon. You should really think about finding some shelter.¡± It rains here? ¡°Oh ho ho, you must be new. Mark my words, it is going to rain. I¡¯m never wrong about the weather.¡± I see. Listen, could I ask you a question? An acquaintance of mine, goes by the name of Camel¨C ¡°I know him.¡± Oh, great. I was hoping you would say that. I can¡¯t find him. We were on a job together and¡­ got separated. He usually hangs out at the Rathskeller but he isn¡¯t there. I thought he must be a customer here. Any idea where else he might be? The lady squinted, the crows feet on her face spreading. She pursed her lips, still twirling her parasol as she thought. ¡°Most likely he is in the Red Light. Do you know it?¡± I¡¯ve heard of it. Can you give me directions? ¡°It¡¯s on the other side of The Commons, almost at the border. You¡¯d better hurry. Before it rains.¡± Interlude - [Character Sheet] Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 STATISTICS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 (ADDITIONAL OPTIONS TO BE UNLOCKED AS APPLICABLE)] 7.0 - Redlight Following the vendor¡¯s directions the best I could, I passed through The Commons, alternately crowded or desolate depending on the section. At last I reached what appeared to be the outskirts, with a shimmering wall segregating our area from a gleaming metropolis beyond. There was a tunnel boring through the shining barrier. Polizei bots in head-to-toe tactical gear stood posted on either side. Was their function to keep Citizens out, or to keep Volunteers in? Or something else entirely. I decided not to find out. Turning down a wide alley lit with floating red globes I passed by several storefront windows with humanoid figures on display. At first I thought they were photorealistic mannequins, statues, or some sort of wax figurines, but when my eyes rested on one, it sprung to life. ¡°Hello, gorgeous!¡± A young, lithe, shirtless man in tight leather pants with chiseled abs greeted me. His voice was clearly audible despite being behind the glass partition. It was hard to peel my eyes away from him. There was something exceptional about his appearance, but I could not put my finger on it. Hello. ¡°Are you looking for some companionship?¡± he cooed. ¡°Being a Volunteer can be so lonely at times.¡± It certainly could. But before I could respond, another voice from behind caused me to turn. ¡°Or perhaps I might be able to serve you instead?¡± Across the alley, a woman with porcelain skin and a white negligee beckoned to me from her booth. She had a flawless hourglass figure, and her face possessed the same illusive quality as the man¡¯s. They are symmetrical, I realized. Perfectly symmetrical. Thank you, but I am looking for a friend of mine. His name is Camel, or at least that¡¯s what he goes by. ¡°We are companions and are not allowed to share the personal information of any of our valued customers,¡± the man answered, feasting on me with his piercing dark eyes. Of course, I knew that I was nothing to look at, but felt like a raw steak thrown into a lion¡¯s cage nevertheless. I owe him a lot of money, and I¡¯ve come to deliver it to him if he is here. ¡°In that case, visit Serenity at the end of the row,¡± the woman offered through pouty lips and batting eyelashes. She pointed with a long finger, her pale hand adorned with bright red nails, further down the alley. ¡°She¡¯s his favorite.¡± Before I could leave, the man spoke again. ¡°But if you are burdened with carrying so much money, perhaps you would enjoy some companionship after all. Our prices are reasonable, especially for first timers. Relax. Take some weight off your shoulders.¡± I wish I could say I felt some stirring in my loins for either companion, but I had no loins to speak of. Just out of curiosity, and only curiosity, how much? ¡°6,000 for the companionship starter package, but for you I¡¯ll make it 5,000. An extra 3,000 to add the companionship protection plan. And if you purchase ten companionship experiences, you receive one bonus experience for free.¡± Protection plan. What is that? ¡°Upgrading to add the protection plan to your experience guarantees a near zero risk of contracting digital syphilis.¡± Shiva! Wait, what? Shiva. I shook my head. His response was disconcerting enough, but more alarming was the fact that my mouth was not working properly. I had tried to use a common expletive beginning with the letter S, but the words did not come out the way I intended. Shiva. Shiva? Why can¡¯t I curse? The woman behind me laughed in a coquettish tone. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. The Collective is a family friendly environment. The profanity filter is always in effect.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Shiva! Frag! Mother fragger. Piece of Shiva. Son of a brick. ¡°Ooh, such a dirty mouth on you,¡± the man purred, touching a finger to his lips and shaking his head. Mildly confused, I hastened to the end of the row, trying to avoid eye contact with the many perfectly crafted specimens on display. I reached the final two windows at the end of the alley. One was empty and unlit while the other contained a very well built man with flowing yellow hair and an unbuttoned frilly white shirt revealing a tanned and hairless chest. ¡°Hello, gorgeous.¡± I¡¯m looking for Serenity. The man bowed politely and gestured across the alleyway to the unlit window. ¡°Serenity is entertaining another customer at the moment. But perchance I may be of some assistance to you? Is it companionship you seek?¡± I¡¯m looking for my friend Camel. I have some money to deliver to him. I was told he might be with Serenity. ¡°Ah, yes. Do not fret. It shan''t be much longer. That particular customer never makes it past two humps. That is why they call him Camel, after all.¡± A familiar voice rang out and I turned to see Camel exiting through a door, buttoning his pants, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked disheveled. Hobo chic. ¡°No. It¡¯s because I never miss! How many times do I have to keep telling you lewdies?¡± Camel! You¡¯re alive! I barely knew this person, but a feeling of warm relief washed over me. He was a familiar landmark in this unfamiliar land. ¡°Of course I¡¯m alive. A lomtick of baddiwad luck with the bounty, though.¡± I saw in the window display behind him a young dark-skinned woman in what could only be described as a french maid¡¯s outfit reappear, posing with perfect stillness and waiting for her next customer. The bounty? I collected the bounty. Or, the task reward. Your name was crossed out on the bounty boards, but I brought your share. ¡°Horrorshow! How did you survive? That bolshy dog came out of nowhere.¡± Two other hunters showed up. They were tracking the Baskerville Hound and took it out before it could get me. I managed, barely, to get back to The Commons on my own and cash out the reward. But I don¡¯t understand. Can you not die in the Metaverse? ¡°Of course you can die. But you reload at the restoration point. You lose anything you gained since you backed up your data, except for your memories of course. Those exist in your real mozg in the real world. Still hurts like a brick, though.¡± But then why was your name crossed off the bounty? We completed the task. ¡°Just another scheme to deprive us Volunteers of hard-earned pretty polly. A loophole. It costs the Corporation to restore us, so if you read the fine print of the bounty it tells you that dying before cashing out the reward invalidates your claim. And we still have to pay the restoration fee on top of that.¡± I see. What happens if you don¡¯t have enough Crypt to cover the cost of a restoration? ¡°You go negative. Makes it really hard to kupet cancers or ptitsas, or whatever it is you are into.¡± The idea of falling into debt in this place filled me with deep unease. Everything I had seen was already heavily monetized. Loophole or not, I brought your share of the reward. 1,000 Crypt. ¡°You are a saint! A chellovecks of honor. My bank account is running low. I almost had to cancel on Serenity.¡± Camel pivoted and blew a kiss to the motionless woman behind the glass. She reanimated, turning and blowing an appreciative kiss back in his direction. How do I transfer the Crypt to you? ¡°Simple. Just open your menu, select the amount of Crypt you want, and drag it over to me. If you hover your rooker in the air, I¡¯ll start to glow. Drag and drop is all.¡± I tested this maneuver out and was able to successfully transfer 1,000 Crypt to Camel, which he manually accepted. I double-checked my menu to make sure it worked. [ECONOMY I wanted to see if this impacted my storage, so I opened up my Memory menu. [MEMORY Sure enough, I had freed up 10 ¡®metabytes¡¯ of storage by making the transfer, which meant that Crypt was divided by 100 in terms of storage space it occupied. I would need to find a solution to prevent maxing out my storage in the future. Something to put on my list of one hundred and one mysteries of the Metaverse. I felt something warm and wet spatter against my bald head. I closed my menus and looked up. One by one, the window displays in the Red Light district went blank. The floating red globe lanterns flickered then became dark. Camel¡¯s cigarette fell from his lips and vanished in a puff of pixels. ¡°Bog! It¡¯s starting to rain! We need to get inside, skorry! You don''t want to be loveted in this weather.¡± Large pink drops of rain were coming in at an angle, almost horizontal at times. The rain grew stronger. Violent. As the droplets hit my exposed skin, it alternately felt shockingly frigid or close to boiling, as if each droplet carried its own temperature in this oblique monsoon. Why? What¡¯s with this rain?! ¡°It purges the system memory cache. Reboots the programs. Washes The Collective clean!¡± 8.0 - Rain Chapter 8 - Rain I followed Camel as he hobbled through the dead pleasure district to the main thoroughfare cutting back to the center of The Commons. A quick glance to the left confirmed the Polizei standing guard at the boundary crossing point were gone. Maybe they didn¡¯t like the rain either. At this point the pinkish water, shining in the luminescence of the city, was up to our ankles. We slogged forward in the flood. The water burned and stung as it swirled around my calves. The torrential rainfall pummeled relentlessly. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get to higher ground!¡± I pushed on. The streets were empty, the yokocho alleys abandoned. My ears filled with the rush of falling water. I tried desperately to maintain visual contact with Camel but the rain was making visibility difficult. My foot passed over something hard and slick beneath the water and I tumbled forward, sprawling in the pulsing wet, soaking through my coveralls. The water was tasteless and odorless but it assaulted every nerve in my avataric body. I pulled myself up on my hands and knees, gasping. Stinging pink rivulets ran down my naked head and throat. Where are we going?! I tried to shout but my default voice was woefully feeble. My companion did not respond. He sloshed on through the water that now reached up to our waists. I surged onward. I had a value of 20 assigned to my Speed category. At this moment, that seemed a small number indeed. Strength would also be useful in fighting against this current. Finally, I saw Camel turn and begin to struggle up slick metal stairs abutting a wall, curving around like an emergency staircase on the side of an overpass. When I reached them, breathless from exertion, I hauled myself up, gripping the slippery railing for dear life. The soupy waters churned and swirled behind me. I wondered if the whole city would soon be drowned. At the top of the stairs I collapsed on the street. Currents of water raced down the road all around me. Lights from a looming billboard advertising nostalgia schnapps reflected in the heavy puddles. Behind me, the stairs were swallowed by the rising pink tide. Eyes burning, I shielded my face and spotted Camel across the street beckoning wildly. He stood at the entrance of a series of concrete khrushchevka-style high rises. I could not crane my neck far enough to make out the tops of the buildings in the colorful storm. Mustering my strength, I pulled myself up and waded across to join him in a sort of exposed atrium or outdoor lobby in the center of the high rises. Two metal birdcage elevators waited with open jaws. Even here, the water was swiftly rising. ¡°These are the Towers! The best bet is to go to your nook and spatchka off the rain.¡± I briefly recalled the Residential Towers as a location listed at the Information Kiosk. My nook? I have a room here? ¡°All the Volunteers are given free rooms by bolshy bratty. It isn''t much, but it''s domy. Scan your code and the elevator will take you to your floor.¡± Camel gestured, allowing me to go first even though there were two elevators. Nodding, I hurried in. He grunted and slid the door shut behind me. A pang of claustrophobia hit as I heard the clanging metal latch and saw the flood rising up to my knees. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Panicking, I glanced around and saw a circular red light on a black square sensor built into the side of the elevator. No other buttons or controls. No levers. I proffered the barcode on my wrist and, with a loud clanking, the elevator began to rise. Water poured out through the metal bars like a sieve as I went higher and higher. I had no idea how many floors up I had ridden until the elevator jolted to a stop. I turned and saw a dark hallway stretched out before me, and I fumbled for the rear latch of the cage. I stepped into the hall. Lit by dim, flickering lights, I perceived rows of small round portals on either side of the hall, one stacked on top of the other. Each had a number. Glancing at my wrist, I hurried in, searching for mine. 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 There it was. It was placed on top of another capsule-like entrance, with two small steps built into the wall. There was another sensor on the door so I scanned my code. The door swung open. A fluorescent light revealed a room approximately nine feet long and four and a half feet tall. A pallet of foamlike consistency was built into one section of the floor. A dial on the wall adjusted the lighting. Otherwise, there was nothing else. Having nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, I crawled into this glorified torpedo tube, shutting the door behind me. To my surprise, I realized I was completely dry. That seemed impossible. I had slogged through heavy rain, practically swam through a flash flood. The water had assaulted every inch of my flesh. And yet, not a trace of it remained. And at least here, in my capsule, I was sheltered from the onslaught. I had no idea how long the rain would last. I possessed no means of measuring time, and no means of communicating with anyone outside of my capsule. Were all the rooms on these floors occupied? In each building of the Towers? Was I, even now, surrounded by other Volunteers who were my neighbors? Had they all wisely taken shelter, being familiar with the changeable whims of this metaverse? Why then did I feel so alone? I stripped off my coveralls, folding them in a square, and placing my shoes on top of them. I stretched out on the foam pallet. It was a more comfortable position than sitting or crouching in the cramped, hard space. I looked at my wounded arm. Thankfully, it had not gotten worse. I opened my menu and navigated to the Status submenu. [STATUS I hovered over Infernal Burn to see if I could access any more information. I could. [Infernal Burn (neutralized): this status ailment increases vulnerability to fire and heat-based damage.] Oh, wow. I must have received this ¡®status ailment¡¯ when I was bitten by that Hellhound, in addition to the damage and immense pain. I wondered if that was something that automatically happened or if it was a probability thing. Either way, I was thankful for the ministering aid of that striking woman, Rook, that apparently rendered the burn neutralized. I would have stood no chance against the flame spewing Baskerville Hound in such a state, not that I would have even without the status effect. Thinking about vulnerability and risk made me realize that I had not ¡®backed up¡¯ my data, as Camel mentioned. If I were to die, maybe even drowning in an improbable flood of electric pink rain, I would lose everything I had gained since arriving here. The last thing I wanted was to see my precious 1,070 Crypt vanish, not to mention the curious baubles I had acquired - Crystals, Card Fragments, Materials, and so forth. Could I save my data here, resting in my capsule? Or did that require a trip to this Restoration Point? I desperately needed to find out what was going on with this dangerous world that I had allegedly volunteered for with no memory of doing so. With no memory of who I was or where I had come from. I needed answers. But for now, I could only wait. I didn¡¯t know if sleep was possible in this place. But I felt the need to rest. During my so-called orientation, the Concierge mentioned something about suspended animation. If my physical body was in suspended animation in the ¡®real world¡¯, then maybe ¡®resting¡¯ or ¡®sleeping¡¯ in this place was equivalent to a computer going into sleep or idle mode. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I tried to reach out through time and space, to somehow connect with my physical form outside of this simulation. Where was it? What did it look like? What was happening to it just then? But there was nothing. No response. No sensation. Whatever my life was, or had been, was severed from my conscious experience. As these and many other thoughts flitted through my confused mind, I twisted the dial to immerse myself in total darkness and see what dreams may come. 9.0 - Error Chapter 9 - Error In the pitch black of my capsule, at some point my mind began to dissociate. Whether that could be qualified as sleep or not was beyond me. In that state of sensory deprivation the contours of time and space blurred. I heard waves lapping gently against a distant shore. A rhythmic, steady sound. Peaceful and amniotic. But then something white broke the endless darkness above my resting head. Something white and ferocious, spreading out like the expanding cosmos itself. A mouth. Or rather, teeth, and pointed at that. Gleaming white teeth stretched into a rictus, cheshire grin. And a sound as deep as rolling thunder. III kNoW wHaT yOu DiDDD I lay paralyzed, frozen in place. My eyes shot open, perceiving this all-engulfing smile and nothing else. The invisible storm clouds rumbled again. iiI KnOw WhAt YoU dIdddd I strained with all my might, trying to force¨Cto will my body to move. But I was completely immobilized. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes and dripped helplessly down the side of my face. Every nerve and vein within me protested. Then¨Ca pain like an orbitoclast slipping into my brain through the edge of my eye socket overwhelmed me, but I could not scream or resist. An unfathomable helpless piercing. A migraine to end all migraines. ]ERROR ||||lllIIII ERROR |IIIllll||| 01110011 01100001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01111001 00100000 01100100 01100001 01101101 01100001 01100111 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110011 01110100 01100001 01101001 01101110 01100101 01100100 -1%[ Gaaaaaahhhh!!!!! At last¨CI broke free and lunged for the dial on the wall of the capsule, twisting it to full brightness. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The room was empty. No haunting smile. No disembodied voice. The capsule was as bare as ever, with only my sparse clothing stacked against the side wall where I had left them. My head throbbed. I shuddered, trying to bring my racing pulse under control. I felt as if I had awoken in a cold sweat, perhaps even pissed myself. Yet these were only phantom sensations. Bright spots swam in my vision. Even then the unfathomable phenomenon spilled down into some hole in my memory, and after several minutes I sat staring at my unfamiliar hands, unsure of what I was doing, aware of only a dull ache in my head. A menu notification flashed in my vision. [Refresh complete. Essence restored. Energy at full. Neutralized status ailment removed.] Refresh. Had I truly slept? Had I dreamt? How long had I been in this cramped room? How long had I been sitting, staring at the tan, featureless skin of my palms? The notification hung persistently in front of me. Shaking the last bits of disorientation and pain away, I started to sort through my menus. My Essence had returned to 20, up from 10. My Energy, whatever that was for, remained at 10. Obviously ¡®resting¡¯ restored both of these statistical categories or resources. I had not had an opportunity to use Energy and did not know exactly what it was for. The restored Essence also meant that my total Storage was up to 197.7 metabytes out of 210. I recalled the unusual notification the Concierge had given me at the end of my orientation. Something about a sign-on bonus. Searching into my Status submenu, I also confirmed that the Infernal Burn was gone. Totally gone. I wondered if neutralized conditions were removed upon a refresh. I got dressed and climbed out into the hall, closing the hatch to my capsule behind me. The hall was dim and empty. Not a sight or sound of another resident in either direction. I walked down the hall to the waiting metal cage of the elevator and scanned my code, feeling the contraption crank to life as the creaking mechanism lowered me to the ground floor. I stepped out. The air felt brisk. It was still dark out, and I began to wonder if any equivalent to a sun existed in this world. The streets were dry. The flooding water, the deep pools, the torrent of colorful rainfall¨Call gone, as if it had been nothing more than a hallucination. I looked around to see if I might spy Camel or another Volunteer, but I was alone. I smoothed out my black coveralls and walked in the direction of the Information Kiosk. It was time to get some answers. 9.1 (+ first readers poll) I entered the phone booth-sized tube protruding out of the concrete that was the Information Kiosk and scanned my identifying barcode. There was a chime, the glowing red light turned white, and the small screen flickered on, just as before. Welcome to The Commons. What information would you like to access? Where to begin? I want to know more about my Statistics menu. The Statistics menu is a user interface for Volunteers representing five categories of functional program performance relevant to your role in removing invasive entities from The Collective. And only Volunteers have them? Not Citizens? That is correct. Citizens are neither required nor expected to participate in the removal of invasive entities. So the five categories are Attack, Defense, Ability, Movement, and Processing. Each category has a combined score, but the combined score is composed of the scores in the subcategories. That is correct. And each category has subcategories. That is correct. I brought up my menu for reference as I spoke. Please explain how Strength and Accuracy impact my ¡®functional program performance¡¯ in carrying out my role as a Volunteer. Strength, beyond the obvious meaning and general applicability of the word, modifies your ability to use melee weapons. Accuracy, beyond the obvious meaning and general applicability of the word, modifies your ability to use ranged weapons. Are there other types of weapons besides those two? In addition to melee and ranged, there are also thrown weapons and traps / deployable items that can be used to assist in the removal of invasive entities. Thrown weapons are modified by both Strength and Accuracy, while traps / deployable items are modified by a Processing statistic and a Movement statistic, with the relevant modifiers specific to the item. I had only the basic push dagger, a strictly melee weapon modified by Strength. A very small, and short range weapon at that. I think I am beginning to understand. Please explain Essence and Resistance. Essence is the measurement of the durability of your True Self (?) within The Collective. Once Essence is depleted, your True Self (?) suffers deresolution and deletion and must be reloaded at a Restoration Point. Resistance is the measurement of the buffer or defense against Essence depletion caused by invasive entities or other obstacles. I understood that Essence represented my life or health in this place, and Resistance was an extra layer of protection or durability. Another thought occurred to me. During a recent bounty¨Cuh, Task assignment, I received a status ailment from an invasive entity. Would that have been prevented if I had higher Resistance? I do not have enough data to speculate. Both Resistance and Probability are factors in preventing various forms of data corruption. Hmmm. Then explain Adeptness and Energy to me. Adeptness, beyond the obvious meaning and general applicability of the word, modifies your ability to harness and use special skills as they relate to your role as Volunteer. Energy is a related resource that powers the use of those special skills. Without Energy, certain special skills will not be functional until Energy is restored. Do I have any special skills? You currently do not have any special skills. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Explain Speed and Agility to me, and skip the part about the obvious meaning of the word and all that. Just tell me how it helps me carry out my ¡®function¡¯ or ¡®role.¡¯ Speed modifies how quickly you can move your True Self (?) through the environment. Agility modifies your reflexes during the removal of invasive entities and other activities, as well as the range and type of motion of your True Self (?). And as previously explained, either of these Movement subcategories may modify your use of traps or deployable items, depending on the item. I recalled how Camel, despite his apparent hunchback and limping gait, was able to move much faster than me as we evacuated the Red Light district. I only had a value of 20 assigned to Speed. Now Processing. Explain all those subcategories as they relate to my role as Volunteer. Perception relates to the interpreting of sensory information in order to comprehend the environment. Persuasion relates to the ability to influence others to believe or do something - to move by argument, entreaty, or expostulation to a belief, position, or course of action. Protocol relates to higher cognitive functions such as knowledge, intelligence, logic, and prescience. Probability relates to the measurement of the likelihood of an event to occur, on a scale from impossibility to certainty. The descriptions for this section were a little vague for my liking, but I was beginning to grasp the bigger picture. We Volunteers had one primary function above all else - to rid this Metaverse of invasive entities. The user interface of the Statistics menu was therefore entirely geared toward measuring and tracking our ability to do so. Citizens, not that I had ever met one, had no need for such an interface or statistical categories within this System. We Volunteers were a different breed. I checked through my submenus to see what else I should inquire about. There were Weapons, Armor, and Accessories (of which I had none). I moved on to my Inventory submenu. Ah. What about Cards? What are Cards and Fragments? Invasive entities will sometimes leave behind Data Cards upon removal from The Collective. These Data Cards contain code foreign to the System that can be used to better understand the nature of these invasive entities and/or improve a Volunteer¡¯s ability to engage in removal. Fragments are individual pieces of Data Cards. Once enough Fragments have been collected, a complete Data Card can be reformed through the process of Data Forging. I recalled that a location existed in The Commons called the Data Forge. I looked again at my Inventory. [INVENTORY Okay. What about Materials? During my last Task Assignment, I collected three ¡®common¡¯ fern flowers. Materials are resources collected from invasive flora. Materials contain code foreign to the System but can be combined with System materials through the process of Data Forging to create functional items. How would I know what to do with these materials? What even is a fern flower? I am unable to help with that, as I am only a virtual assistant assigned to assist Volunteers at The Commons Information Kiosk. Volunteers often use the Archives to research invasive entities and materials, as well as other relevant data points. Archives. I see. I noticed that a line of Volunteers was starting to form outside. Others eager to use the Information Kiosk for whatever reason. I needed to wrap this up. One last question, for now. What are Crystals? I have ten Crystals listed under my Economy submenu. Crystals are variable residual resources left behind upon removal of invasive fauna. They can be thought of as similar to cryptographic hash functions that operate according to Schrodinger¡¯s conceptualization of paradoxical quantum superposition. Uhhhh. Can you explain that in practical terms? Crystals are the fuel used in the process of Data Forging and are required for multiple tasks such as generating new Value for your statistical subcategories, creating functional items from materials, forging complete Data Cards from fragments, fusing special skills onto weapons and armor, transmutation, and more. Transmutation? My head was starting to swim again. Information overload. A gaunt man dressed like a 1970s London punk rocker banged the flat of his hand impatiently on the outside of the kiosk¡¯s transparent door. ¡°Hurry it up, you gloopy nazz!¡± I pulled up the mini map of The Commons on the kiosk¡¯s small screen, looking at the various relevant landmarks. I did my best to commit the details to memory and shoved my way back out to the street, standing under the never-ending night sky. I had a slightly better grasp of the System we Volunteers had to operate within. And I had several options of what to do next. -> I could visit the Archives and try to learn more about this mysterious world and my purpose within it, as well as the invasive entities and even the fern flower materials in my possession. -> I could visit the shopping district (the Armory and the Supply Depot) and spend some of the hard-earned Crypt burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket. -> I could visit the Data Forge and see if I could put these 10 Crystals to use in strengthening some of my Statistical categories. -> Also, I could visit the Restoration Point to back up my data before some nasty monster bites my head off or I drown in another pink-hued flash flood. 10 - Backup Chapter 10 - Backup I narrowed my choices down between visiting the Shopping District and going to the Archives to do some research. Not having a physical coin to flip, I materialized my push dagger and flipped it instead. The direction the blade landed would determine my destination, as the two locations were in opposite directions from my current position. And, like some divining rod, the blade pointed me toward the Archives. I began to make my way there at once through streets bathed in fluorescence, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind called to me. This world was fraught with dangers I did not fully comprehend. It would be wise to backup my data at the Restoration Point before continuing. On the other hand, I had very little to backup beyond the card fragments, crystals, materials, and Crypt I had accumulated since leaving the Orientation. I assumed my black coveralls, push dagger, and cosmetic footwear were already backed up, but what if they weren¡¯t? How could I tell? As discretion is the better part of valor, I abruptly changed course and headed for the Restoration Point. Better to be safe than sorry. I would visit the Archives after. The Restoration Point loomed large over the surrounding structures and had the appearance of a multi-story art sculpture with swooping lines twisting together into a tower-like pinnacle. It reminded me of a retro video game company logo realized and maximized in three dimensions. Thick cables ran into the base of the building like black rubber roots emerging from somewhere underground, and glowing grid lines snaked across the flat surface surrounding the building like a circuit board. Now that I saw the building up close it occurred to me that I had regularly spotted the top of the tower from other vantage points in The Commons. This was an undeniable landmark. The Volunteers¡¯ own version of the Eiffel or Tokyo towers. I approached the inverted, arching walls of the tower and stepped through a wide, open entryway. I saw no personnel or workers of any kind manning the Restoration Point. There were only a series of angled, translucent tubes, like oversized MRI machines, but tilted upward and arrayed in a circle surrounding the building¡¯s interior nervous core. Each tube had a panel beside it with a round light and a small screen. I watched as one Volunteer stepped up to the panel and scanned their code, the light switching from red to white. The Volunteer then mounted a small platform that lifted them into the tube. The light on the panel turned from white to red, and bright lights pulsed within the tube. The Volunteer was stretched out like the Vitruvian man as beams scanned their entire body. I approached a free tube, preparing to scan my wrist. But before I could access the panel, the red light started blinking and the machine sprang to life with a loud whirring noise. Startled, I took several steps back. Light flooded the empty tube from within and a humanoid shape began to appear, silhouetted through the translucent material. At first it was merely an outline, a dark shadow. But it took on depth and dimension with each whirring pass, as if a person were being 3D printed before my eyes. At last, the sturm und drang abated, and the platform lowered. A well-built Black man stood before me, wisps of newborn vapor curling off his shoulders. He wore black pants and a leather jacket. A gold medallion hung from a chain over his white shirt. He stepped away from the machine, checking his inventory and systematically materializing and dematerializing weapons as if to make sure they were all accounted for. He paid me no mind, but I recognized him immediately. Bigwig! The man glanced up, annoyed. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Bigwig! It¡¯s me! No hint of recollection crossed his features, so I persisted. You saved me from the Baskerville Hound. You and Rook the other day. Was it another day? I¡¯m still a bit hazy on that point. He narrowed his eyebrows and responded with a dismissive grunt. ¡°Oh. It¡¯s the thieving Magpie. Get yourself some new clothes or body parts for frag¡¯s sake. Couldn¡¯t recognize you from Adam.¡± I certainly did not want to be associated with ¡®thieving¡¯ among the other Volunteers, but I hoped Bigwig was simply making an opera reference. He went back to sorting through his menu screens. The Restoration Point. I just saw you materialize. Does that mean¡­ ¡°Yeah. I ate it out there. The Round Table¡¯s hunting a hydra. Very dangerous. Not that it¡¯s any of your concern.¡± A hydra. I¡¯m sorry. I hope you didn¡¯t lose too much of your data. ¡°Are you joking? I can¡¯t tell. My shotgun is more expressive than your ugly mug. I keep most of my Crypt and the rest of my gear in the Repository. Where do you store it, under your bloody mattress?¡± Repository¡­ Was Rook with you? Is she okay? That comment elicited a frown. Bigwig closed his menu screen with a wave of his hand. ¡°How about you keep her name out of your mouth and mind your own business.¡± I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean any offense. I take it you and her¡­ that is to say¡­ the two of you¡­ ¡°We¡¯re partners. We watch each other¡¯s backs. That is the most important relationship a Volunteer can have. Now, I¡¯ve got a score to settle with a multi-headed beast from Greek mythology. So get out of my way.¡± Bigwig pushed past me, his muscular form moving purposefully toward the entrance. Feeling emboldened, I called out a final question in my feeble starter voice. What does a Volunteer need to do to join the Round Table? He stopped in his tracks and turned to look over his shoulder, flashing a disdainful smirk. ¡°Bag a Rare bounty. Nah, not even that¨Ca LEGENDARY bounty. Then someone might notice you, little Magpie.¡± Bigwig spit on the ground and then was gone. Charming fellow. I turned my attention back to the tube he had materialized in. There were other open tubes, but perhaps I hoped some of his swagger might in some way rub off on me if I were to use this one. Superstitious thinking, I know. I approached the panel and scanned my barcode. Welcome to the Restoration Point. Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 Your last backup was ____NOT APPLICABLE____ Would you like to backup your data? Yes I would. 100 Crypt will be deducted. I winced. I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. Everything here had a price. That meant I was down to 970 Crypt. Maybe the most common cause of death in The Collective was being nickeled and dimed. On the other hand, it freed up one metabyte of storage space. Silver lining, I suppose. [ECONOMY MEMORY The round light on the panel shifted from red to white. Please enter the Restoration Station to backup your data. I did just as I saw the other Volunteer do, climbing onto the small platform which raised me into the tube. I saw illuminated holders in which to place my arms, stretched out at an angle above my head, and for my feet. Soon, hot beams of light crawled over every inch of my body. It even felt like they penetrated straight through me. I was cocooned in a tingling sensation from head to toe. Then the procedure was done and quickly clambered out of the tube. I checked the small screen on the panel and saw my full menu (Statistics, Equipment, Inventory, Economy, Memory, Status, and Tasks) frozen in time at the moment of this backup. Your data backup has been successfully completed. Next stop, the Archives. 11 - Archives Chapter 11 - Archives I carried no map on my person, but drawing from my recollection of viewing miniature map sections of The Commons at the Information Kiosk and elsewhere, I knew there was no standard designation of north, south, east, or west in this place. Rather, it was more of an XYZ axis situation, taking into account the verticality of the construction. The Archives were further down the left side of the X axis of the grid and at ground level. After passing several shadowy blocks, I was surprised and not a little disconcerted to see what looked like a small concrete pyramid with the letters ARCHIV above sliding double doors in a neglected section of the city. This must be the place. Not what I was expecting. The glowing, omnipresent red light awaited me beside the doors like some all-seeing evil eye. I scanned my code and the doors slid open, revealing a glass box elevator. I stepped in and the doors closed automatically behind me. Nothing happened. I looked around for another scanning point, or some switch or button. But I saw nothing. Then, without warning, the elevator began rapidly descending of its own accord. Passing down through a lightless shaft, I had no idea how deep I was going. How deep did this metaverse even go? It wasn¡¯t like there was a crust, mantle, and planet core to worry about. Or was there? Everything had its limits. Eventually, blue pin pricks of light bled through the glass walls. I placed my palms on the glass and peered out into expansive darkness. It was as if I was plummeting into an enormous subterranean cavern with an underground lake, and the lights were the crests of tiny waves and ripples catching a beam of moonlight. But as I continued to fall, I realized it wasn¡¯t a cavern or lake at all. The blue lights emanated from countless nodules on tall obelisk-like servers. This was a server farm, row upon row radiating out beyond my vision in every direction from a central point. The elevator braked harshly. The double doors opened and I stumbled forward. I found myself in a circular concrete ring blocking my access to the endless forest of servers surrounding me. A strong ozone smell permeated the environment. Three large curved screens hung in the air, and a sort of mechanical headset hung suspended from cables and wires. It almost felt like this was an older part of the metaverse. Something left behind or carried over from an earlier version of the digital world. Using inductive reasoning, I stepped forward and tentatively attached the hanging set in place over my bald head. Welcome to the Archives. Initiate query. So many questions. Where to start? Tell me about¡­ The Collective. Incorrect query parameter. Initiate query. What? This system was not as intuitive and user-friendly as The Concierge or even the Information Kiosk. Again, I suspected that this was an older, more primordial system function. I tried again. The Collective. Incorrect query parameter. Initiate query. I want to learn about The Collective. Incorrect query parameter. Initiate query. Uhh. Query, The Collective? Query initiated -> The Collective The Collective is the most advanced, fully immersive, shared virtual platform for human consciousness. The Collective represents the future of connection. It provides new ways to interact and share experiences. The Collective is owned and operated by Reality Incorporated. The three screens lit up with hazy footage and images of what looked like advertisements cheerily extolling the virtues of this immersive product, proudly stamped with the corporate logo. Query, Reality Incorporated. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Query initiated -> Reality Incorporated Reality Incorporated is a multinational technology conglomerate headquartered in [FILE MISSING]. Reality Inc. owns and operates The Collective, among other products and services. It is one of the world¡¯s most valuable companies and among the ten largest publicly traded corporations. Again, focus group-tested corporate propaganda images filled the screens. The world they depicted seemed so alien from my current experience. Query¡­ the purpose of The Collective. The Collective is a private, safe, and inclusive world of virtual connection for Citizens during a state of extended suspended animation. The Collective fosters ongoing psychological health, meaningful connection, exploration, and expression. Live your best second life! (?) Query, First Wave of Citizens to The Collective. Query initiated -> First Wave of Citizens to The Collective The First Wave of one million lucky Citizens to migrate to The Collective were honored subscribers of Reality Inc.¡¯s Premium Diamond Priority+ membership plan. Query, Second Wave of Citizens to The Collective. Query initiated -> Second Wave of Citizens to The Collective The Second Wave of thirty million fortunate Citizens, subscribers of Reality Inc.¡¯s Golden Select Comfort membership plan, has been temporarily delayed until required system maintenance can be completed. Query, System Maintenance delaying the Second Wave of Citizens to The Collective Query initiated -> System Maintenance delaying the Second Wave of Citizens to The Collective Multiple error states caused by the unexpected emergence of anomalous programs has disrupted normal system functioning within The Collective. Complaints from Citizens alleging virtual injury, real world health complications, and the resulting fall in share prices has inspired Reality Incorporated to pause future migrations until the situation can be successfully mitigated. Please note, Reality Inc. does not comment on pending litigation or open investigations. Grainy newsreel footage showed plummeting stock prices on various transnational indexes and intimated closed door board meetings and committee hearings. Query, Volunteers in The Collective. Query initiated -> Volunteers in The Collective Volunteers are brave men and women who have signed on to help Make the Metaverse Safe Again and ensure a bright, connected future for humanity during these unprecedented times. Handsome, strapping men and lovely women were confidently marching forward on the screens, cheered by small crowds of onlookers in what looked to be a parade route housed within an industrial warehouse or airplane hangar. Unprecedented times? I vaguely recalled The Concierge mentioning something about ¡®Earth¡¯s greatest minds¡¯ working to solve many challenges during the Orientation. Query, Unprecedented times. Query initiated -> Unprecedented times Query is too broad. Initiate query. Huh. Query, Trouble currently facing humanity. Query initiated -> Trouble currently facing humanity Query is too broad. Initiate query. Okay then. How about¡­ query, Volunteer Contracts? Query initiated -> Volunteer Contracts Each Volunteer has signed a legally binding contract to obtain advanced, temporary access to The Collective in order to carry out their assigned tasks of helping to scrub the system of anomalous programs, also referred to as invasive entities. Query, Volunteer Contract Fulfillment. Query initiated -> Volunteer Contract Fulfillment Volunteers will be released from their contract upon successful completion of all contract stipulations, namely, the removal of any and all anomalous code from within The Collective. Query, Volunteer Contract Early Termination. Query initiated -> Volunteer Contract Early Termination As clearly stated in the fine print of the legally binding contracts signed by each Volunteer under their own cognizance and capacity, and officially witnessed and verified, there are no allowances for early contract termination. Volunteers have bravely agreed to stay the course until their important job is complete. Query, Number of Volunteers in The Collective. Query initiated -> Number of Volunteers in The Collective A total of [FILE MISSING] Volunteers have been migrated into The Collective so far. Currently, there are >[FILE MISSING] Volunteers present in The Collective, representing a net decrease of [FILE MISSING]%. Something didn¡¯t add up. If there is no way to get out of a Volunteer contract, and the contracts can¡¯t be fulfilled until every invasive entity is purged¡­ how are there less Volunteers? What happened to them? Where did they go? Incorrect query parameter. Initiate query. Query, Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Query initiated -> Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 is you. My avatar, wearing the Archives headset in real time, appeared on all three screens, staring back at me with its hollow, unrecognizable eyes. To describe this as a dissociative experience would be an understatement. That¡¯s not really me. That¡¯s not the REAL me. Query, Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 true identity. Query initiated -> Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 true identity [FILE MISSING]. 11.1 It was time to try a new tack. Query¡­ Hellhounds. Query initiated -> Hellhounds Mythology query: A hellhound is a supernatural dog in folklore that is represented as standing guard in the Underworld, or fulfilling the role of a guardian or servant of hell or the devil. A variety of ominous or hellish supernatural dogs occur in mythologies around the world, with the best known examples being Cerberus from Greek mythology, Garmr from Norse mythology, the black dogs of English folklore, and the fairy hounds of Celtic mythology. Several illustrations and paintings flickered on the screens depicting the fearsome hellhounds and their ilk. The beasts in the images were invariably black, oversized, strong, and had red eyes or were accompanied by flames. Just like what I fought in the service tunnels. Interesting (if anxiety provoking), but not particularly useful at the moment. Maybe if I had an active bounty on some recognizable monster, I could research at the Archives to discern a weakness or gain an advantage over it. Query, Fern Flowers. Query initiated -> Fern Flowers Ferns are plants that do not have flowers. Ferns generally reproduce by producing spores. Similar to flowering plants, ferns have roots, stems, and leaves. Mythology query, Fern Flowers. Mythology Query initiated -> Fern Flowers The fern flower is a magic flower found in Baltic, Estonian, and Slavic mythology, among others. This Otherworld flower, often described as being golden, purple, or blue, blooms for a very short time on the eve of the summer solstice. It is often associated with fertility, wisdom, and good luck, and is believed to bring fortune to the person who finds it. In some tales, it allows for animal speech or powers to ward off evil. Those searching for the fern flower must practice caution as dark spirits were said to stand guard, empowered by the same solstice magic that caused the flowers to bloom. If caught by the spirits, flower seekers may be cursed or even killed, although the nature of the danger and steps required to avoid it vary by mythology. Alternatively, during the special night, young couples going into the woods ¡°seeking the fern flower¡± can be interpreted as a euphemism for sexual activity. Stolen story; please report. Illustrated images of traditional midsommar celebrations filled the screens. Young couples eagerly jaunting into the woods. Green, unfurling fern fronds under a bidecadal strawberry moon. Nubile bodies wreathed in protective mugwort. Good luck? Fortune? I certainly liked the sound of that. But were there different varieties of these flowers? How would I know which ¡®mythology¡¯ applied to the items I found? I opened my menu and scrolled down to my Materials submenu, under Inventory. [INVENTORY Three common fern flowers. I didn¡¯t recall what color they were, so I materialized them. They hovered in the air just above the open palm of my hand, outlined with a subtle glow. The flowers were yellow, not quite golden. Certainly not purple or blue. I dematerialized them. The {common} designation implied that there were materials of other qualities or rarities. I recalled that both my melee weapon and clothing items were described as basic, which, according to the item description of my push dagger, meant that they could not be upgraded, enhanced, or exported. The Information Kiosk virtual assistant had listed transmutation as an available service at the Data Forge. I wondered if ¡®exporting¡¯ an item and ¡®transmuting¡¯ an item were the same thing. I further assumed that {common} may be at least one step above basic. I wondered if the term basic could even be applied to wondrous creatures and plants springing from ancient mythology, or if {common} was the lowest ranking. The hellhounds had been common, and the Baskerville Hound had been uncommon. When I first obtained the fern flowers, Camel made a comment about crafting. And, selecting the fern flower in my Inventory and drilling down, I saw that it contained the following description: [Crafting material. Attributes unknown] Query, Crafting materials within The Collective. Query initiated -> Crafting materials within The Collective Over time, Volunteers have learned to assimilate and co-opt fragments of anomalous code, such as that harvested from or left behind by invasive flora, with standard System items to create emergent new items to be used in carrying out their tasks. Although this was not an intended feature by Reality Incorporated, allowances have been made for Volunteers as such community modding activities can provide an advantage against invasive entities at no additional cost to the Corporation. However, all foreign code must be wiped from The Collective prior to Volunteer contract fulfillment. Query, System items frequently used to combine with common crafting materials. Query initiated -> System items frequently used to combine with common crafting materials A popular System item frequently used by Volunteers to combine with common crafting materials via a Data Forge is Pure Water. Another popular item is a White Linen Cloth. Relevant items depend on the nature and rarity of the crafting material. Query, Where to purchase Pure Water in The Commons. Query initiated -> Where to purchase Pure Water in The Commons Pure Water, in vials or bottles, can be purchased from the Supply Depot in The Commons. 12 - Shopping Chapter 12 - Shopping Leaving the Archives, I traversed through The Commons until I reached the Supply Depot, sparkling like a jewel in the night. I entered, noticing the same elderly woman sitting behind the checkout counter as before. No parasol this time. She gave a polite nod. I wasn¡¯t sure if she remembered me, but she lowered a paperback she was reading titled Die Verwandlung and smiled expectantly, wrinkles stretching across the liver spotted skin of her face. I noticed she wore earrings in the shape of crescent moons. Any rain in forecast? ¡°Oh ho ho. Not yet, dear. Come to do some shopping?¡± Yes. How does one go about that? ¡°On this floor you have your miscellaneous odds and ends, trinkets and doodads. You can search the aisles and bring any item back here for purchase, or you can shop by menu if you are in a rush. Downstairs we have cosmetics and body modification.¡± She stretched out her hand and pointed to a spiral staircase leading down to a sublevel of the building. I noticed that the staircase also led to an upper floor. And upstairs? ¡°Off limits. Temporarily.¡± I see. ¡°This cycle there is a 30% discount or more on select hairstyles. And facial tattoos are buy-two-get-one free for a limited time. Our specials and sales always rotate, so be sure to check back often.¡± She smiled and resumed reading her book. I wondered if a ¡®cycle¡¯ had something to do with the unusual rain, but hesitated to ask. The words of Camel rang in my ear. ¡®It purges the system memory cache. Reboots the programs.¡¯ Anyway, I had my shopping list. I was on the lookout for Pure Water. Soon enough, I found it on a shelf of other consumable items. Was this something I could drink? Or was it only something to craft with? I recalled the beverage I consumed down in the Rathskeller. I had no physiological need for food or drink (and my avatar presumably had no digestive system), but the drink felt and tasted very real. The psychological pleasure of an artificial act was tangible, and looking at, of all things, packets of instant ramen noodles lining the nostalgia goods shelves, I imagined my mouth watering. Ones and zeroes. Neurons firing. I resisted the impulse and focused back on the Pure Water. At this time It was offered in two varieties. Vials and bottles. I tried to pick up the 3D rotating image of the vial. The image became temporarily fuzzy as it moved, but yet it maintained a subtle substance in my grasp. Concentrating, I selected the item. [Item: Pure Water (Vial) Quantity: 1 Cost: 50 Crypt] I set it down and picked up the glass bottle, which appeared larger. [Item: Pure Water (Bottle) Quantity: 3 Cost: 125 Crypt] So there was a slight discount to buying in bulk. Still, I was acutely aware of my dwindling finances. Not knowing if attempting to craft would even be worth it, I hesitated. Doing the math, purchasing the bottle would knock me down to 845 Crypt. But I did have three fern flowers. I also noticed on the shelves a small piece of White Linen Cloth. [Item: White Linen Cloth Quantity: 1 Cost: 50 Crypt] I figured that I could experiment with each of these materials and save the third fern flower for future use. I decided to go with one Vial of Pure Water and one swatch of White Linen Cloth. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I wondered if I could place the unpurchased items in my inventory temporarily, but I could not, so I carried them to the counter. The woman opened a special vendor menu in the air in front of me and we made the exchange. I dragged 100 Crypt over to her menu and the holographic items were solidified as the purchased items materialized in my hands. I added them to my inventory and then checked my Inventory, Economy, and Memory menus. [INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY ¡°Thank you and come again.¡± I was ready to head next door to the Armory, but out of curiosity I made my way to the spiral staircase and peered down. The lower floor seemed deserted, with large bright panels on the walls reflecting off a shiny black slate floor. I gripped the ivory white railing and made my way down twisting transparent steps to the sublevel. To one side of the floor-to-ceiling panels, a familiar red light waited. I scanned my barcode and the panels sprung to life. I saw my avatar splayed out, rotating, magnified to twice my size or more on the central screen. The panel to the left displayed a menu of body modification options and the panel to the right displayed cosmetic options. Many were familiar from my time in the Orientation, but I scrolled through the available options anyhow. Some I did not recognize, possibly newer additions, and some were highlighted on a rotating carousel at the top of each panel. Under body modification, I noticed several options for customized voices. All were out of my price range, even though Mellifluous and Lilting were both discounted by 20%. I saw one Ultra Premium voice labeled Morgan Freeman selling for 200,000 Crypt. I turned my attention to the carousel, which showed five different hairstyles currently on sale: Cornrows, Temple Fade, Quiff, Disheveled Mushroom, and Wavy Asymmetrical Crop. All were listed at 30% off, but I stopped cold and stared at an inviting, bold red number next to the Wavy Asymmetrical Crop. 50% off. Intrigued, I hovered over the option for more information. [Hairstyle: Wavy Asymmetrical Crop Color: Black Cost: 500 Crypt (250 with 50% discount)] Call it vanity. Call it foolishness. Call it a waste. But I purchased that hairstyle. [Wavy Asymmetrical Crop hairstyle (black) selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to apply this change?] Yes I would. Soon, medium length wavy black hair materialized over my bald pate, falling over the right side of my face. The rotating visualization of my avatar in the central screen instantly reflected the change. I ran a hand through my new locks. They were as firmly rooted in my skin as if I had always possessed them. Although I still had the most generic starter features imaginable (an almond-skinned, nondescript androgynous person in black coveralls), I felt a swell of something that can only be described as pride. This pleasurable feeling was instantly matched with the aversive, negative valence of seeing my diminished Crypt. [ECONOMY Caveat emptor. Alas, I was tired of feeling like an overlooked non-entity in this world. There was always more money to be made. I hoped. I searched my menu to see where the body modification might appear but I could not find it. I guess my physical appearance was all the proof I needed. I inferred that cosmetic purchases might be reflected somewhere within my nested menus, but body modification was a one-time application. I wouldn¡¯t be keeping any spare hairstyles or appendages in my inventory for later use. I realized I had never delved into the History submenu, and decided to take a quick look. [MEMORY ¡­¡­¡­¡­.. It went on and on. I was startled. There was a running, real-time record of my actions and movements within The Collective. Things I said. Places I went. All the way back to when I awoke in the Orientation. Of course, I had to have known that the System was tracking me. That¡¯s what systems do. Nevertheless it was disconcerting to be so nakedly exposed before that watchful eye. Data of every behavior and spoken word. What about my thoughts? Were they keeping a record of my thoughts as well? Maybe there was some use for this History feature, but for now I didn¡¯t care to bother with it. Lost in these and other thoughts, I climbed the stairs and quickly exited back out onto the street. The old woman began to say something as I passed but I didn¡¯t hear it. I took a moment to get my bearings, then crossed the dark pavement and headed for the Armory. 12.1 (+ second decision point) The Armory had the appearance of a concrete bunker, with a smooth, humped roof. The windows were tinted and reinforced. A gaudy red dancing neon sign illustrated an assault rifle affixed with bayonet thrusting into an ogre¡¯s head ad infinitum. Yet the establishment had the buzz of a nightclub. Several Volunteers I did not recognize entered and exited through the front of the building, while others milled about outside. Apparently it was a popular spot. I murmured apologies as I pushed my way through to the double doors and stepped inside. Inside, long wrap-around counters separated the customers from the merchandise. On the walls, countless racks of weapons rolled past like the conveyor system of a kaitenzushi or major airport. I nearly went cross eyed watching instruments of death crisscrossing the walls to the left and right in alternating rows. Samurai swords. Hira shuriken. A baseball bat with nails sticking out of it. I even saw a bazooka whiz past. In the center of the spacious room, pieces of clothing and armor were on display in tall, transparent cases. Motley Volunteers casually inspected the goods like one would admire paintings at an art gallery. Many of the items and sets were wholly unfamiliar to me. One appeared to be a whole body suit covered in spikes. I leaned in to read a label: Siberian Bear-Hunting Suit. Another was labeled Nationale Volksarmee Uniform. Both were exorbitantly expensive. No bold red sales numbers on these. The longer I looked, I noticed some of the displays flicker out, replaced by different items. Were these just holographic images as well, waiting to be materialized? No doubt I would have the option to ¡®shop by menu¡¯ if I wanted. A smart-looking, black Tactical Jacket appeared in the case I had been previously staring into. I reached out to select it, even though it was behind glass, and the object glowed with a faint outline. [Armor: Tactical jacket Armor Type: Body Cost: 1500 Crypt] Out of my price range. Still, I liked the look of it. I hovered over the piece to access more details. [Armor: Tactical jacket Armor Type: Body Cost: 1500 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Uncommon Defense Output: 30 Details: A type of jacket designed for use in military, law enforcement, and other tactical situations. Made from durable materials and features a variety of pockets and compartments for storing gear. Also features reinforced elbows and shoulders, and VELCRO patches for attaching morale patches or identification. Properties: Storing - when equipped, this armor increases memory space by 20 metabytes. Size: 30 metabytes] Suddenly I tensed as I heard gunshots ring out. Looking up from the display, I saw muzzle flashes reflecting off glass at the back of the room. But none of the other Volunteers so much as flinched. Against the rear wall, large bulletproof windows looked into a firing range. A few Volunteers were gleefully shooting at targets. A place to test the merchandise? Another opening in the wall to my right led into a sort of sparring room, currently occupied by a shirtless Volunteer dual-wielding swords and facing off against what I could only assume was a training bot. ¡°Can I help you, soldier?¡± A voice equal parts curt, authoritative, and hollow caused me to spin around. Behind one of the counters was the strangest sight I had yet seen since my awakening, and I had seen literal hellhounds. A type of robot or cyborg with a metal body the color of army surplus green stood before me, easily seven feet tall. Its features were nearly skeletal, but it wore an incongruous colonial powdered wig. Military star insignias were stenciled on its chestplate. ¡°Colonel Peacekeeper at your service! Purveyor of the finest weapons and armor!¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A¡­ robot? ¡°Back by popular demand! I was patched with these cosmetics during a special Veterans Day sale and the customers loved it! Profits have increased 18.2% since the change from my previous appearance. Hooah!¡± So bizarre. I see. Well, not really. You mentioned Veterans Day. Veterans of what war? ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m only an ordnance specialist and do not have access to that intel. Above my pay grade! But I do have access to the finest weapons and armor! What can I interest you in?¡± I did see a tactical jacket over there that looked nice, but I can¡¯t afford it. ¡°You need to get out there and kill some more monsters, soldier! Do your part. Accumulate that sweet Crypt. Then you can go on a spending spree on your next rotation!¡± That¡¯s the idea. But I only have these black coveralls. As far as weapons go, I have this basic push dagger. Not much to brag about. ¡°Well, soldier. Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains victory!¡± Was that a quote from somewhere? I almost died once already and I¡¯d prefer not to experience that again. I have a certain price point, but I¡¯m having trouble deciding between defense and offense, a new piece of armor or a new weapon. Any advice? ¡°My motto is - Nobody ever defended anything successfully, there is only attack and attack and attack some more!¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if I entirely agreed with that perspective, but I saw little utility in debating with a jingoistic automaton. Colonel¡­ Peacekeeper¡­ I only have 620 Crypt left. What weapons do you have that are less than that? ¡°Our inventory, specials, and sales always rotate, so be sure to check back often. But let¡¯s take a look!¡± Peacekeeper raised a green metal finger and opened three shimmering menus in front of my face. An assortment of diverse weapons zipped into place on each floating screen. ¡°In our current lineup, we have the following available for 500 Crypt each. Some are on sale. I¡¯ll show you a few fancier options to whet your appetite. It all depends if you go for Melee, Ranged, or Thrown weapons. Pick your poison, soldier!¡± [Melee Weapons Weapon: Warclub Weapon Type: Melee (bludgeoning) Cost: 500 Crypt Weapon: Tomahawk Weapon Type: Melee / Throwing (slashing) Cost: 1000 Crypt Weapon: Cane sword Weapon Type: Melee (piercing) Cost: 1000 Crypt] [Ranged Weapons Weapon: Hand crossbow Weapon Type: Ranged (piercing) Cost: 500 Crypt Weapon: Snubnosed revolver Weapon Type: Ranged (ballistic) Cost: 500 Crypt] [Thrown Weapons Weapon: Rope dart Weapon Type: Thrown (piercing) Cost: 500 Weapon: Fei tou flying weight Weapon Type: Thrown (bludgeoning) Cost: 500 Crypt Weapon: Meteor hammer Weapon Type: Thrown (bludgeoning) Cost: 1000 Crypt] I recalled that melee weapons were moderated by the value of my strength, ranged weapons by my accuracy, and thrown weapons as a combination of strength and accuracy. ¡°We also have traps and other deployable items, of course. But let me show you one of my favorite items - on sale!¡± Colonel Peacemaker snapped his finger and a new menu appeared, hovering in my visual space. A pepperbox-style handgun with six small barrels, a handle that doubled as a folding knuckle duster, and a fold out double-edged knife that looked like a bayonet appeared, rotating in three-dimensions on the screen. [Weapon: Apache revolver Weapon Type: Ranged (ballistic) / Melee (piercing, bludgeoning) Frequency: Rare Cost: 4000 Crypt] Impressive. I could shoot, stab, or punch someone with that thing. Always good to have options. Thanks, but way too rich for my blood. The robotic vendor visibly slumped its shoulders in disappointment. Maybe I could save up for it? Buy it later? Put it on layaway? The vendor made a metallic clicking sound somewhere in its throat. ¡°I always say - A good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan next week.¡± That may be so, but here is another proverb: you can¡¯t get blood from a stone. I swiped away the special rare weapon menu and looked again at the Melee, Ranged, and Thrown options before me. If I spent 500 Crypt, I would have just 120 remaining. I knew I had to take on another bounty soon. But first¡­ 12.2 I decided to go with a ranged weapon. I still had my push dagger if I needed to resort to close combat, and having the option to exterminate invasive bloodthirsty creatures from a safe(r) distance was a good option to have. I recalled that during Orientation I was given the choice to purchase a small handgun for 300 Crypt. I couldn¡¯t imagine that being worthwhile to invest in at this point, especially if it was of the basic variety, and it seemed that the two other options currently in the Armory¡¯s lineup and within my price range were before me. The hand crossbow and the snubnosed revolver. I dismissed the Melee and Thrown weapons menus, and hovered over each of the remaining weapons in turn to view the details while Colonel Peacekeeper looked on with a skeletal grin. [Weapon: Hand crossbow Weapon Type: Ranged (piercing) Cost: 500 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Common Damage Output: 10 Details: A smaller version of a traditional crossbow that can be held in one hand or modified to be attached to the wrist and can fire a single bolt or quarrel (a metal dart-like projectile). Properties: Ammunition - requires crossbow bolts. Fires one bolt at a time. Can be fired one-handed but requires a free hand to reload. Bolts that miss their targets may be recovered. Size: 20 metabytes Weapon: Snubnosed revolver Weapon Type: Ranged (ballistic) Cost: 500 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Common Damage Output: 20 Details: A small revolver with a short barrel, designed with minimal external movement of the firing mechanism so that it can be drawn with little risk of snagging, and may even be fired from within clothing. The design compromises range and accuracy at a distance in favor of maneuverability and ease of carry and concealment. Properties: Ammunition - requires .32 caliber cartridges. Holds five cartridges at a time and must be manually reloaded. Size: 20 metabytes] The hand crossbow had a lower damage output, but with the possibility of reclaiming bolts that missed their targets. The revolver could hold five cartridges whereas the crossbow held only a single bolt at a time. The crossbow seemed a bit medieval to me. Perhaps it was more useful as a stealthy weapon. It was hard, after all, to ignore the sound of gunfire. With my minimum Accuracy value, the higher damage output of the revolver felt promising. Excuse me, if I purchase this revolver, does it come with ammunition included? ¡°The revolver will come fully loaded with five cartridges in the chambers of the cylinder. Any additional ammunition must be purchased.¡± How much? ¡°10 Crypt per cartridge. A great deal!¡± And how much storage space does each cartridge take up? ¡°Each cartridge in addition to the ones loaded in the revolver requires 1 metabyte each.¡± I did some math. Spending 500 Crypt would free up 5 metabytes of space, bringing my total storage to 199.2 out of 210. Purchasing the revolver, which mercifully included five loaded rounds at no additional cost or storage requirement, would increase my total to 210.2. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Shiva on a stick. I was quickly coming to realize that both Crypt and storage space were incredibly limited and important commodities in The Collective. I was experiencing real anxiety over maxing out my storage. The tactical jacket that I could not yet afford came with a nice storage perk, so there must have been other ways to increase my storage space. And Volunteers normally store their extra ammunition in their inventory? ¡°But of course! Unless that savvy Volunteer purchases a quiver, bandolier, or other relevant accessory!¡± I doubted I could afford anything else from the Armory at this time. But it didn¡¯t hurt to ask. Since this is my first time shopping here, do you have any deals for first time customers? Maybe throw in a holster or something like that for free or at a discount? I think it would really help boost customer loyalty. The cyborg in the powdered wig stared at me with its dead, metal eyes, saying nothing. Perhaps some internal calculation was passing through its programmed vendor brain. ¡°A novel suggestion, soldier, but not persuasive. As it is, we are the only place to acquire new weapons in The Commons. Customer loyalty is guaranteed!¡± I remembered that my Persuasion score was a measly 10. Probably not worth the effort to try and barter or debate with this thing. If I buy that revolver, I will be .2 over my data storage limit. What happens then? ¡°Do you have an account established at the Repository and an instant transfer subscription?¡± I do not. ¡°Then you can¡¯t add the revolver to your inventory.¡± Can I temporarily carry the revolver in my hands without adding it to my inventory? ¡°Most items can be temporarily carried without being added to your inventory. However, if you were to lose that item, there would be no record of ownership. Also, you would not be able to back up that item at the Restoration Point. But it is a moot point, soldier. Armory policy is no purchases can be completed unless the weapon or armor can fit in your available storage space!¡± I racked my brain, thinking of how I could free up .2 metabytes. I did not want to part with anything in my inventory. That tactical jacket I saw. Can I somehow place a deposit on it for later? ¡°You can. But there is no guarantee it will remain at its current discounted sale price.¡± Sale? I didn¡¯t notice it was on sale. What is the regular price? ¡°2,000 Crypt. Right now it is only 1,500.¡± Ugh. Put 20 Crypt down as a deposit on the tactical jacket and give me the revolver. The vendor screen flashed a confirmation, then another. [Snubnosed revolver selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this weapon?] Not right now. The revolver materialized then dematerialized straight into my inventory as 500 precious Crypt melted away into the digital ether. I only had 100 left. I felt sick. ¡°Thank you for shopping at the Armory, soldier. Hooah! Have a FUBAR day!¡± I turned away from the counter to leave and walked straight into a group of Volunteers loitering close behind me. Oof. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, noob.¡± Sorry. There were four of them. They wore outfits with similar colors and textures. Black denim and leather, mostly. Each had a circular patch somewhere on their clothing depicting a fanged cobra ready to strike. The one I had collided with, a medium-built male with a reverse mohawk and eyes like black marbles, wore a vest with a prominent cobra patch above his breast and a lower jaw the color of raw steel. Whether it was painted, dyed, tattooed, or actually replaced with metal, I could not tell. ¡°Noob. What do you think you¡¯re going to do with that malenky pooshka?¡± With that what? Another member of the group butted in. ¡°Your little gun! Think you¡¯re hot Shiva with that toy?¡± Without waiting for an answer, the first man moved in close, his face twisted in a snarl. ¡°We¡¯re bolnoy of noobs like you coming in and snatching up all the easy bounties.¡± Easy bounties? I thought we were all in this together. What happened to Volunteer solidarity? ¡°Yeah, yeah. Glory to the Volunteers. But we¡¯s been here awhile. Some of us has gots to eat. Gots bills to pay, needs to meet. New volunteers been showing up and taking our kills, making us travel far off to drat more dangerous prey.¡± The last time I saw the bounty boards there was no shortage of bounties. If anything, there were too many to count. ¡°A smart odin, aye? The point is, you noobs gots no respect. You needs to pay tribute to those that come before you. Those of us that paved the way.¡± Are you with the hunters from the Round Table? The man hawked up a wad of saliva and spit straight on the Armory floor. It soon evaporated into a wisp of nothingness. ¡°Round Table. Bunch of self-righteous arseholes. Think they can actually earn their way out of this hellhole. But we¡¯s know this is the new normal. This is where we¡¯s gotta stake our claim. Build our kingdom.¡± I don¡¯t know what to tell you. Now if you would please get out of my way and let me pass. The man put his hand up against my chest as I tried to leave, blocking me. A butterfly knife materialized in his other hand. 12.3 Instantly, several double-barreled sentry guns popped out of the ceiling of the Armory and trained on us. A few other Volunteers side-eyed the situation, but most kept to themselves as they perused the shop. They didn¡¯t want to get involved. The hollow but firm voice of Colonel Peacekeeper called out. ¡°Remember, soldiers. No violence of any kind is tolerated within this establishment of deadly weapons and mass destruction. If you want to test your wares, use the Firing Range or the Dojo.¡± The distasteful man¡¯s snarl melted into a sideways grin. He held up the butterfly knife, gave it a little twirl, and dematerialized it. After a delay, the sentry guns retreated as well. ¡°Yeah, yeah, Colonel. In that case, noob, hows about a friendly malenky test instead? My worst shot against you in the Firing Range. Revolvers only, since that seems to be your veshch. Is that a five shooter? Best out of five shots on a clean target. We filly for Crystals.¡± A test? Filly? Are you saying you want to wager with Crystals? No way. I only have ten, and I am not giving them up. ¡°It¡¯ll be a double bet. You win, we¡¯s give you twenty. My veck wins, we¡¯s take yours.¡± I felt an unusual twitch somewhere deep within me, as if the words ¡®double bet¡¯ activated some reflex. An almost irresistible urge. It was even money, so to speak. But I had to be smart. I only have five shots. I can¡¯t afford to waste them. ¡°You gloopy nazz! Ammo is infinite in the Firing Range. If you can score higher than Buzzcut, you¡¯ll be twenty Crystals richer.¡± I looked to the side at the Volunteer apparently called Buzzcut. He had similar generic features as my avatar. Did that mean he hadn¡¯t been in The Collective very long? I saw pale skin. A silver grill over his teeth. Extremely close-cropped brown hair. He was twitchy, materializing and dematerializing a small revolver over and over. Double if I win? Fine. I followed the group to the back of the room and through the door to the Firing Range. There were many lanes, most of them occupied by Volunteers testing out all manner of ranged weapons. The cacophony was incredible. At the end of the row, Buzzcut and I took our places before two empty lanes. Buzzcut scanned his wrist barcode under a red light and I did the same. Two fresh targets appeared at the end of the lanes. Each target depicted the dark silhouette of a human torso, with concentric circles around the head and chest with various point values assigned. ¡°Remember, noob. Best score after five shots. You lose? We¡¯s take your Crystals and whatever else you¡¯re carrying.¡± That wasn¡¯t the deal! The man just sneered, turning back to watch his goon. Buzzcut raised his firearm. It was a larger caliber, with a longer barrel than the one I had just seen him holding a minute ago. Shiva. Had I been played? A crack from his revolver, and a hole punched through the target to the center left of the torso. Scoring an 8. Shiva, Shiva, Shiva¡­ I quickly opened my menu and equipped the snubnosed revolver, materializing it into my hand. I tested the weight, felt the cool metal and sturdy material of the handle. On some level it felt comfortable there, as if a muscle memory encoded in my cerebellum in some distant place activated. Maybe this wasn¡¯t my first time handling a gun. I held the revolver out in front of me with both hands, steadying myself, and fired. I missed the target entirely. The leader of the cobras laughed derisively. ¡°Eight to nil. Four shots left!¡± Buzzcut lined up another shot. 7, puncturing the target¡¯s shoulder. Looking down at the gun in my hands, I noticed the spent cartridge rematerialize in the cylinder. Infinite ammo in the Firing Range, indeed. Good to know. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I readied another shot. This time I hit the target, but outside of the concentric circles. Scoreless. ¡°Fifteen to nil!¡± Buzzcut aimed again. He pulled back the trigger and - missed! The leader was not pleased. ¡°Buzzcut, you fragface!¡± I had a chance, however slim. Three shots left. I narrowed my eyes and took a breath, holding it. I tried to visualize the revolver as an extension of my body, imagining an invisible line stretching from the barrel through the empty space of the lane. I fired. A hit! A low gut shot. 7 points. The cobras murmured. I also noticed several other Volunteers pressing themselves up against the bulletproof windows behind us, watching the competition. 15 to 7. Buzzcut fired again. Another 7 points. I inhaled, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. Another hit! 7 points this time, hitting the target to the wide right of the navel. The score was 22 to 14. We each had taken four shots, with only one left in the match. Many of the other Volunteers in the range had stopped shooting, curious to see the outcome. I wondered who they were rooting for. The ringleader was not pleased. ¡°If you frag this up Buzzcut, so help me¡­¡± Buzzcut ran his tongue across the metal on his teeth. He shifted his weight from one leg to another. He carefully aimed his revolver and¡­ missed! There was a murmur from the growing crowd. I got the sense that these ''cobras'' weren¡¯t very popular with the other Volunteers. The possibility of seeing one or two of them embarrassed must have appealed to some. This was it. All or nothing. I had to score at least an 8 to tie. So far I had two misses and two mediocre hits. Why had I agreed to this foolishness? I raised my hands again, trying to disguise a nervous trembling as I clutched the weapon. I looked down the diminutive iron sights at the target that seemed so far away. The fact that I had managed to hit the target at all from this distance with this weapon was remarkable. What a stupid mistake! But then¨Csomething strange happened. A tingling sensation like an icy fog coalesced around my right arm, and then my left arm. I felt the odd chill enveloping my fingers. I looked but saw nothing there, but I felt it. My trembling stopped. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, my arms slightly rose of their own accord, aiming the revolver higher on the target than I intended. What was going on?! It felt like my body was being hijacked! But by who? Or what? CRACK! Without thinking, I fired the revolver. A premature, involuntary release. The crowd was silent. My eyes shot up to the target in dread. It was a bullseye. In the head of the target. 10 points! I won the match, 24 to 22! I couldn¡¯t believe it. And the sensation of cold fog was gone. Evaporated. But in the moment I was so excited I didn¡¯t notice. The cobras stared at me in quiet disbelief and the crowd murmured enthusiastically. I made a play of blowing smoke off the barrel of my gun before dematerializing it and turned to face the gang. Well? I¡¯ll be taking those twenty Crystals now. ¡°What? We¡¯s didn¡¯t agree to that.¡± Excuse me? You said it was a double bet, even money. Ten of my Crystals if I lost, twenty of yours if I won. ¡°You''re bezoomny. We¡¯s ain¡¯t said nothing of the sort, noob.¡± Some of the bystanders closest to us started to interject. ¡°If it isn¡¯t true, Razor, open up your History and prove it.¡± ¡°Yeah! Don¡¯t try to change the deal now. Show us your History!¡± These Volunteers were genuinely standing up for me. Or at least standing against ¡®Razor.¡¯ I realized that if he opened up and shared his History, it would hold a record of every word he ever said in The Collective, including our little bet. His steel lower jaw quivering with rage, Razor turned his black marble eyes back onto me. ¡°Frag it. Not worth the hassle. Twenty Crystals? Might as well be zero.¡± He materialized twenty small gleaming crystalline geometric shapes and unceremoniously dumped them into my waiting hands. I fumbled, trying to not let any slip through my fingers. I desperately tried to add them to my inventory again and again. [Alert! Account storage full.] [Alert! Account storage full.] [Alert! Account storage full.] No! The man called Razor glared with sheer malice. ¡°Better not drop those, little noob¡­¡± Some of the other Volunteers, realizing my predicament, motioned for me to leave. A few shouted words of encouragement or advice. ¡°Hurry! Get those Crystals out of here.¡± ¡°Get your arse to the Data Forge!¡± I nodded. If I dropped these, or somebody tried to steal them from me on the way, I could lose them all. Twenty precious Crystals. Desperately clutching the clinking, shimmering treasures in my cupped hands, I hurried out of the Armory and made a mad dash for the Data Forge. 13 - Forge Chapter 13 - Forge I hurried through the dark streets of The Commons as fast I could without spilling the precious Crystals cupped in my hands. I glanced furtively to my left, my right, and behind. Would others try to rob me? Was I being followed? Thankfully, the hubbub of the Armory faded in the distance and I found myself in more deserted byways. Clutching my cargo, I tried to recall the general direction of the Data Forge from the small area maps I had viewed earlier, and believed I was on the right path. It was a few blocks behind the central pinnacle of the Restoration Point, a low but wide brutalist structure punctuated by an enormous glowing sign depicting red blacksmith hammers crossed on the roof. Vents at ground level and black pipes emitted clouds of acrid steam at regular intervals as whatever machinery within churned and hissed. I stepped in a puddle of condensation as I entered. The liquid sizzled upon contact with my footwear. Within the building, a row of huge hydraulic arms churned like a perpetual engine, like an oversized loom of metal spiders¡¯ legs weaving thread. Before this churning scene, three angular podiums sprouted from the ground, connected by tubes to a central pedestal with a basin-like indentation. Behind this clover-like umbrage, a sort of sculpture reminiscent of a double-helix stood tall, pulsing with latent energy. I quickly looked around, still anxious that I could be ambushed by a vengeful ¡®cobra¡¯ seeking to reclaim the loot I had won. I saw a ubiquitous panel with a glowing red light, and scanned my code. Upon scanning, a heavy metal door slid into place and locked behind me, sealing me inside the Data Forge. Okay. At least I didn¡¯t have to worry about somebody sneaking up on me. The panel next to the central contraption lit up with menu options. There did not appear to be a virtual assistant installed at this location, so I would need to figure this out on my own based on the text. [DATA FORGE CONVERT FORGE FUSE EXPORT TRANSMUTE] I lingered over each option with an outstretched finger to see if any further details or explanations would appear, careful not to spill my treasure. [DATA FORGE CONVERT (Crystals into Value) FORGE FUSE EXPORT (transform one type of item, weapon, or armor to another type) TRANSMUTE (transform the cosmetic appearance of an item, weapon, or armor)] I had 30 Crystals. 20 of which I did not have room to store. I thought back to my Orientation. I was given an initial 30 Value to assign to my Statistical categories, which all started at a base score of 10. What was the conversion rate of Crystals to Value? 10 seemed to be the lowest denominator for just about everything in The Collective, except for materials and Crypt, which were calculated fractionally as tenths and hundredths, at least as far as storage space was concerned. Opening the Convert option on the screen, I saw that 10 Crystals could be consumed to generate 10 unassigned Value. Boosting some of my Statistical categories would be a smart choice. I selected the option and one of the podiums next to me began glowing, indicating an indentation to place the Crystals. [Deposit Crystals for Conversion] I dropped the 20 Crystals in my hands into the space, and watched them clink and glow as they settled. [Begin Conversion process?] Yes. The diverse collection of small Crystalline shapes vibrated, and a deep hum filled the space. The spider-like mechanical arms churned and churned, and light spilled out of the Crystals as they broke apart, like atoms splitting. A bright glow of energy filled the tubes connecting this podium to the central platform, and the digitized double-helix sculpture shone brighter and brighter. I shielded my eyes from the light, but when I looked again I saw motes of warm light hovering over the central pedestal. One by one, the motes lifted up and shot into my chest. I instantly felt aglow with internal warmth, as when one imbibes a hot beverage too quickly. After a time, the heat faded to steady but noticeable warmth. The sensation of unassigned Value, pulsing within me. A charge seeking discharge. I opened my menu and several submenus. [STATISTICS MEMORY The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. UNASSIGNED VALUE: 20] After tooling around with my menu options, I discovered that increasing from 10 to 20 in any category would cost 10 Value. However, increasing from 20 to 30 would cost 20 Value. The higher the Value, the higher the cost would be in a linear, progressive manner. However, I noticed that 10 Value could directly convert to 10 additional metabytes of storage space no matter what. Strangely, it appeared that the unassigned Value did not take up any storage space. Yet, I would not be able to increase any of my attributes as I was currently maxed out at 210 out of 210 storage. My only option was to increase storage. I dragged the 20 Value to my Storage category and confirmed. The screen flickered, and then my total Storage increased. It did not seem to be a reversible process, at least within my own menu. [MEMORY Okay. Not the most exciting upgrade, but necessary. And I still had 10 Crystals left in my inventory. I could increase a category, such as Accuracy, Agility, or so forth. But I was curious about this ¡®crafting¡¯ process. I closed my personal menu and went back to the Data Forge panel, selecting the Forge options. [FORGE I only had ¡®4 out of 10¡¯ hellhound data card fragments, so that wasn¡¯t going to work. However, I had my 3 fern flowers and the materials I purchased from the Supply Depot. I selected the Forge Items option. [No Schemas currently discovered. Do you want to continue with Forging?] Schemas? Yes I would like to continue. [Insert the raw materials in the indicated depositories] Two of the podium-like devices glowed. I removed one of the fern flowers from my inventory and placed it on the device. I had to choose between Pure Water or the White Linen Cloth as the other material to combine. After some deliberation, I selected the vial of Pure Water, and placed it on the other platform. [1 {common} fern flower and 1 vial of pure water detected. With your current Protocol and Probability scores, you will only be able to forge 1 {common} item, with a moderate chance of failure] Failure? You mean after all this, there was a chance that my item forging attempt could fail? Did that mean I would lose my materials? My Crystals? Agh¡­ Nothing ventured, nothing gained. [Deposit Crystals for Forging] I materialized the 10 Crystals from my Inventory and physically placed them in the third and waiting receptacle. [Begin Forging Process?] I selected yes, performing the mental equivalent of crossing my fingers. Wouldn¡¯t do me any good. Apparently my destiny was in the hands of my minimal Probability score. Again, brilliant light cracked forth, this time from all three platforms. Raw energy and data were sucked into some great centrifuge, smashed and reformed in new combinations. The glow in the center pedestal was too bright to make out. [Item Forging successful. 1 {common} Tincture of Fortune forged. New schema discovered.] As the light faded, I saw a small clouded bottle. Vaguely oriental. Ornate. Something out of a forgotten bazaar or caravanserai. I reached out and lifted the item, cupping it delicately between my hands. It felt cool and smooth to the touch, and held the weight of a small quantity of fluid within. I dematerialized the item into my inventory, then opened my menu to locate it. I found it under the Consumables submenu. [INVENTORY I highlighted the item to access the details. [Item: Tincture of Fortune Item Type: Consumable Frequency: Common Details: Increases the probability of obtaining Crystals and discovering items of higher rarity for 600 seconds. Size: 10 megabytes] Interesting. So if I were to somehow consume this item, perhaps by actually drinking its contents, I would be more likely to find better loot for¡­ 10 minutes. I wondered if that only meant in the context of hunting invasive entities, or if there were other situations for which this would apply. Perhaps it would temporarily increase the probability of finding invasive flora as well, such as the fern flowers. I checked the rest of my menu to see what my storage situation looked like. I used the 10 Crystals, which freed up 10 metabytes. I also used 1 fern flower and my pure water, freeing up 2 metabytes. However, the Tincture of Fortune took up 10 metabytes of storage. I also noted that a new category had been added: Schemas. [MEMORY The system had recorded the crafting recipe for me. Helpful. I wondered what result the fern flower and the white linen cloth would have had. But I was out of Crystals. I also wondered if there were ways to obtain additional schemas without having to experiment, without trial and error in the Data Forge. There was still so much to learn. Then a sinking realization came over me. I should have backed up my data at the Restoration Point after buying my new weapon, not before. After going to the Data Forge. I kicked myself. If I died out there, I would lose all my progress. I had only 100 Crypt left. Just enough for another backup. Not even enough to ride transit. I would have to find a bounty within walking distance of The Commons, if that was possible. And if I died, I would go into debt to be restored. I shuddered to think of the implications. Wasn¡¯t this supposed to get easier? Did the system even want me to succeed in my mission? I gritted my teeth and turned away from the forge. I would quickly stop by the Restoration Point and spend the last of my money on a backup, then head straight to the Task Assignment Boards. It was time for another hunt. Interlude - [Character Sheet] DESIGNATION STATISTICS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 (ADDITIONAL OPTIONS TO BE UNLOCKED AS APPLICABLE) Interlude - [Concept Art] Concept art for the characters of Bigwig and Rook, veteran Volunteers and members of the self-styled Round Table. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. These two characters were last seen together in Chapter 5 - Baskerville. Although Bigwig also appeared in Chapter 10 - Backup. Bigwig has unceremoniously taken to calling our MC ''Magpie,'' but will the alias stick? Interlude - [Discovered Locations] - The Commons Information Kiosk A centrally located phone-booth sized kiosk housing a virtual assistant that provides Volunteers with a local map and basic information about The Commons, and other need-to-know information for fulfilling their roles. Residential Towers Known to Volunteers as ¡®the Towers.'' These bleak high rises contain small capsules where Volunteers can rest and seek shelter during system resetting storms. One capsule is automatically assigned to each Volunteer. It is unknown so far if better accommodations can be acquired. ''Refreshing'' results in restored essence, energy, and the removal of neutralized status ailments. Task Assignment Boards Known to Volunteers as the ¡®Bounty Boards¡¯ and located near the Armory and Supply Depot. These constantly shuffling screens track available system-generated tasks in real time. Volunteers can assign themselves to eliminate specific invasive entities throughout The Collective in exchange for rewards. Volunteers must return to the boards to collect payment after completing the task. Dying nullifies reward eligibility. It is unknown if there are other ways to access Task Assignments beyond this one location. MAR Station The Commons stop for the fast transit MAR system, carrying Volunteers to other parts of The Collective. Due to the stalled migration of new Citizens into The Collective, the trains are often empty, especially close to The Commons. Other stops along the route include but are not limited to Royal Heights, the Palisades, and Lower Dresden. Supply Depot A store where consumables, materials, nostalgia items, and some non-combat accessories can be purchased with Crypt. The sublevel houses a body modification and cosmetic clinic. The currently inaccessible upper level contains ??? This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Armory A store where weapons, armor, and some combat-related accessories can be purchased with Crypt. Weapons can be tested in the Firing Range or Dojo. Ammunition is unlimited in the Firing Range, and sparring bots can be used in the Dojo. Data Forge A special and powerful processing center capable of combining fragments of foreign code with system code, where a unique energy / fuel source known as Crystals are used for the following purposes: Convert, Forge, Fuse, Export, Transmute. Restoration Point A towering landmark in the center of The Commons. A place where Volunteers can save their metadata. Upon death, Volunteers (including their skills and inventory) can be restored to the most recently backed up version (for a hefty fee). Repository Unexplored. It is said to be a place where excess Crypt, gear, and items can be stored outside of one¡¯s inventory - essentially a bank / safe deposit box for various forms of data. A service known as an ¡®instant transfer subscription¡¯ has been mentioned. Archives Apparently an older part of The Commons, or perhaps even The Collective, this subterranean library / server farm allows Volunteers to dive deep and research just about any information from human history. Useful for gaining knowledge about invasive flora and fauna that may provide Volunteers with an advantage in carrying out their tasks. Rathskeller A local watering hole for Volunteers and the headquarters of the ¡®Round Table,¡¯ a group of elite bounty hunters working to finish the mission of removing all invasive entities from The Collective. A hidden sublevel also contains ??? and ???. Red Light District Popularly known as the ''Red Light.'' An alleyway at the very edge of The Commons where Volunteers and curious Citizens alike can purchase companionship from pleasure bots, no questions asked. ??? ??? 14 - Clurichaun Chapter 14 - Clurichaun I stopped by the Restoration Point and watched my last 100 Crypt fade as the machine had its way with me. Burning a copy of my digital essence for posterity. Then I wended my way to the Task Assignment Boards, on the lookout for any members of that ophidiophile gang that tried to rip me off. I had a feeling I hadn¡¯t seen the last of them. Two-bit crooks with Napoleon complexes, no doubt. I supposed Reality Inc. didn¡¯t do their due diligence in screening potential Volunteers for sociopathy. Or maybe cheap violence just came with the territory. It was in the air. Miasmic. I stood before the large rectangular touchscreen panels and scanned my barcode. The screens lit up, bright against the dark, glowy intersection. The shifting data lines of Tasks filled my peripheral vision. I could hardly keep up as new bounties flipped into view, others shuffled to the side, more were claimed. There was no shortage of work, but Camel had been right - competition was fierce. There had to be other access points, but where? I tried to track the line items long enough to glean the key details. [Remove Wendigo from New Dawn Central Gardens] [Remove Merfolk from Crystal Coast Sea Wall] [Remove Nuckelavee from Upper Dresden¡¯s Park District] I had heard of Lower Dresden and New Dresden, but knew both were far off. Upper Dresden was likely even further. With no money for transit, I had to find something within walking distance. The closest MAR station to The Commons on the Diamond Line was Royal Heights. I couldn¡¯t recall what lay in the other direction. I didn¡¯t think The Commons was the end of line, but then again I didn¡¯t really know. I searched and searched. Bounties turned red and inaccessible as others claimed them from access points unknown. Some bounties floated in place much longer - places I had not heard of and creatures with names I could barely pronounce. Less attractive because they were more dangerous. Then one caught my eye. I quickly tapped it, and information about the Task filled the rectangular screen to my left. [Task Assignment: Remove Clurichaun from Private Residence in Royal Heights Per Citizen report, one {rare} Clurichaun has been detected in the sublevel of a private residence at 1 Paradise Way in Royal Heights. Task Completion Award: 4,000 Crypt Bonus: 1,000 Crypt for eliminating target entity before the next cycle Do you accept this Task?] My mind raced. I had no idea what a Clurichaun was. And it was listed as {rare}. I had barely escaped an encounter with monsters of the common variety. An uncommon beast had almost eaten me for lunch until much stronger hunters intervened. And what was this about a Citizen report? At a private residence? And there was a bonus! I wished Camel was there. Someone I could lean on. Someone who could help me interpret all this - put it in perspective. I wasn¡¯t sure if by selecting the option to view, other Volunteers were temporarily blocked from accepting this bounty. If not, someone else could snatch it. Would I be able to find another bounty this close? I didn¡¯t know. And I didn¡¯t know how long until the next cycle began. There was a ticking clock if I wanted that bonus. Frag it. Yes, I accept. [Task Assigned - Remove Clurichaun from Private Residence in Royal Heights] If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I checked my menu and confirmed it was listed under Tasks. Helpful, so I didn¡¯t forget the address. Not that it would be easy to forget 1 Paradise Way, although I didn¡¯t have much faith in my memory anymore. I desperately wanted to go to the Archives and research this strange entity I was supposed to exterminate. I glanced up at the perpetually dark sky. When would the next cycle begin? Should I risk missing out on a potential bonus? 4,000 Crypt was still a good payout for one person, but going up against a rare creature solo was a bigger risk. And death meant falling below zero on the metaversal balance sheet. Frag it again. Straining to feel even the slightest shift in weather, I raced for the Archives. No cobras spotted en route. At least I had that going for me. I entered the dilapidated pyramidal structure and descended into the ¡®Archiv¡¯ bowels once more, repeating my earlier steps to access the system. Welcome to the Archives. Initiate query. Mythology query, Clurichaun. Mythology Query initiated -> Clurichaun A Clurichaun (also spelled Cl¨²rach¨¢n) is a mischievous ¡®solitary¡¯ fairy in Irish folklore known for its great love of drinking and a tendency to haunt breweries, pubs and wine cellars. Some folklorists suppose that the clurichaun is merely the night-time persona of a leprechaun or a leprechaun on a drinking spree, while others regard them as regional variations of the same being. Clurichauns are known for being tricksters and pranksters, and they enjoy playing tricks on humans. Often conflated with the ¡®treasure guardian¡¯ properties of leprechauns and the biersal (a type of kobold in Germanic mythology), clurichauns are also said to be wealthy, having pots of gold hidden away. Alternatively, they may carry a magical purse with varying properties. According to folklore, clurichauns can be very dangerous if they are angered. They have been known to curse people, steal their belongings, and even cast spells on them. Curses? Spells? Mythology query, Clurichaun spells and abilities. Mythology Query initiated -> Clurichaun spells and abilities If one is caught, a clurichaun has the power to vanish if it can make its captor look away for even a moment. Clurichauns can also create illusions to deceive humans, especially as to the location of treasure. If angered, they may vandalize a home and spoil drinks in revenge. In extreme instances, clurichauns have been known to force mortals into years of forced servitude. Years of forced servitude? Hmmm. I didn''t like the sound of that. Mythology query, Clurichaun magical purse. Mythology Query initiated -> Clurichaun magical purse Clurichauns are said to carry a magical purse that contains a spre na skillenagh, a lucky shilling that always returns no matter how often it is spent, or the purse may remain full of money. Due to the desire of mortals to obtain this purse, a clurichaun will carry two purses, one magical and one normal, and will offer the normal purse before vanishing. A binge-drinking leprechaun didn¡¯t sound too intimidating. And I was practically salivating at the mention of pots of golden treasure and magical coins, although I didn''t think vendors accepted gold as a valid form of payment in the metaverse. It seemed more likely that the tricky thing would just vanish before I could kill it. There were too many unknown factors. Speculation will only get you so far. Finishing at the Archives, I rode the elevator up and exited back onto the shadowy street. The only other way out of The Commons I was aware of was the crossing point on the outskirts, near the Red Light district, guarded by Polizei bots in tactical gear and opaque black helmets. I made my way there. As I walked, I pondered the Task before me. A leprechaun, or a small fairy¡­ they had intelligence. They looked human, I assumed. Stabbing demonic dogs was one thing. Was I able to kill a small humanoid? What if it tried to communicate with me? Did I have the nerve? Did I have it in me to take the life of a small person? For some reason, I felt that I just might. I reminded myself that they weren¡¯t real. Right? They couldn¡¯t be. They were just bits of invasive data. Foreign code, infecting the system. It would be like spraying a cockroach, but even more abstracted. Lost in my thoughts, I looked up to see the opening in the shimmering wall. The barrier between The Commons and the rest of The Collective. The Polizei bots at the crossing point slowly turned their heads to appraise me as I approached. Uh. I have a Task. Out there. Royal Heights? I pointed lamely in the direction of the glittering city beyond. The Polizei bots said nothing. Unsure of what to do, I opened my menu and highlighted the Task currently assigned to me as if to prove my business. Blank and unreadable behind the glass visor of the helmet, one of the bots grunted an authoritarian, ¡°Proceed,¡± and waved me past. As I crossed the threshold, a light scanned me, tagging the barcode identifier on my wrist, registering my exit from The Commons. 14.1 The shimmering boundary wall behind me, I took my first steps in the The Collective proper. Well, The Collective as experienced by Citizens, and not the subterranean recesses beneath their feet. I had never interacted with a Citizen to my knowledge and I was curious to see how the other side lived. All one million of them, just a fraction of the total number intended to fill this massive virtual world. My feet hit the pavement and I started up a slight incline in the direction of the shining highrise buildings as far as the eye could see. A strange thing happened. The further away from The Commons I got, the atmosphere seemed to change. The thick, persistent darkness of the Volunteers¡¯ territory gave way to something brighter and brighter. Sunlight? Impossible. But there it was. Unmistakable. Rays of warm light caressed the exposed skin of my hands, face, and neck. I was so surprised I stopped walking, soaking in the luxurious warmth. The light was almost intoxicating. Looking up, I saw no sun, but the sky was bright and clear. Not a cloud in sight. Light from some unknown source filled the entire region. I hadn¡¯t even known there was such a thing as ¡®daytime¡¯ in The Collective. It was so beautiful, so startling that tears formed in my eyes. I gathered myself, wiped my face on the back of my rough sleeve, and pressed on, now noticing planter boxes interspersed on the walkways lining the main street. Greenery, and even slender trees sprung from the concrete rectangles. A luminous elevated monorail passed between buildings somewhere in the distance. What a contrast. Soon I approached a sort of intersection, and saw large, bright, rotating letters floating in the air. Royal Heights. Beneath the sign, a modern, polished, open-air Information Kiosk stood. What had appeared dingy and suspect in The Commons was nothing but inviting here. I stepped across the street and approached the kiosk. A light scanned my retinas. An animated emote swirled to life on the small screen and a soothing, digitized voice addressed me. Citizenship record not detected. I¡­ I am not a Citizen. I am a Volunteer. Please scan your identifier. I looked around for the familiar red light. Eventually I found it beneath the screen, out of sight. Welcome to Royal Heights¡­ Volunteer. What information would you like to access? I¡¯m here on a job. A task. I need to find 1 Paradise Way. Do you have a smart device or other accessory to download map data onto? Uhh¡­ no. Please view the screen and directions to the specified address will appear. The friendly emote swirled away, replaced with an elegant, color-coded map of Royal Heights. A blinking red triangle indicated my position at the kiosk, and another indicator showed 1 Paradise Way, with a navigable line connecting the two. It seemed to be about a two mile walk to the purple, three dimensional block representing my destination among a row of similar shaped buildings. Thanks. My pleasure. I hope you enjoy your BRIEF visit to Royal Heights, a premier neighborhood in The Collective¡¯s southeast quadrant. If you have enjoyed your experience, please rate your interaction with this Information Kiosk on your next QOL survey. And remember - Live your best second life! (?) Ignoring the virtual assistant, I made my way down the route I had been shown, counting the number of blocks in my head so that I knew where to turn. After quite some time, I arrived on a street of tall, luxury row houses at the edge of the urban buildup. They stood, reflecting the sunlight, white and minimalist with large windows looking out from their multiple floors. There it was. 1 Paradise Way. A polished white stone walkway led between perfect green postage stamp lawns to the narrow yet imposing residence. Uncertain, I approached the large, wooden, asymmetrical double entry doors atop a small flight of white steps. A golden sunburst pattern was etched into the wood. I looked for a knocker or doorbell, but to my surprise the door swung open. A Polizei bot stared back at me. Woah! Wait, that wasn¡¯t quite right. It had the appearance of a Polizei bot, but was dressed in a tailored suit, the black tactical helmeted head incongruously on top. The bot said nothing. I¡¯m here for a Bounty. I mean a Task. I¡¯m a Volunteer. The thing stared at me for several silent seconds, then stepped to one side, giving me room to cross the threshold. When I stepped in I saw another similarly dressed bot inside. The first bot raised a white gloved hand and indicated that I should walk further into the domicile. There was a huge crystalline chandelier hanging above my head, and a balcony with a wooden railing overlooking the foyer from an upper level. Past the foyer, I saw a falling sheet of water, like a waterfall, blocking my forward progress. It seemed to pour from the ceiling and down through tiny holes built into the floor of the hallway. I looked to the bots for help but they simply raised their open hands again, indicating for me to continue. Okay¡­ I took a careful step toward the falling water and was amazed to see it part instantly. With immediate responsiveness, the waterfall contoured to my shape, allowing me to walk through dry, a wall of water falling on either side like drapes. Not so much as a single drop of moisture touched me the entire time. On the other side I found myself in a common area branching into different rooms on this main level. A large kitchen was to my right with sleek obsidian countertops and well-appointed appliances. To my left was a comfortable living space with a large viewscreen, sleek divans, and a white fur rug in the center. Tribal artwork I could not place hung on the walls. Large windows at the rear of the home looked out over a sloping green hillside, dotted with other residences amidst thick foliage. Some sort of film was playing on the viewscreen in the living area and I turned to observe. It was colorless. Monochromatic, yet rich in detail. A closeup on a woman¡¯s face. Beatific. A tear rolls down her smooth cheek. Jeering men in bowl haircuts and robes affix a crown of rope, or maybe twisted thorns, on her head. They jostle her face, slap her. More tears roll down. All of it silent but for distant singing in a language I don¡¯t understand and some sparse stringed instruments. One man places an arrow in her hands. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. I watched, mesmerized by the moving images. The pained close-up on the woman¡¯s face as she is mistreated. The pleading look in her heavenward searching eyes. Then a light splashing sound roused me. I turned my head and noticed another room just ahead, smaller and enclosed by wide windows. In this room, a woman emerged from a narrow infinity pool, stepping onto smooth aquamarine tiles. She was tall, voluptuous, and wore a form fitting white one-piece swimsuit. Her skin bore the color of a perfectly calculated suntan. Her eyes shone bright green beneath thick eyelashes. Her lips were full and plump. Her appearance was without blemish. Almost artificially so. If she were human, which I assumed she must be, and whatever she looked like outside of The Collective, she obviously had no expense spared for her choice of cosmetics and body modifications in this world. The woman quickly toweled her thick mane of brunette hair and slipped into a white cotton robe, so soft it looked like she was draped in a cloud. She approached me, padding barefoot from the tiled room onto the sleek wooden floors where I stood awkwardly waiting. ¡°You must be the Volunteer,¡± she said in a buttery smooth voice with a hint of an accent. I cleared my throat and nodded. She eyed me up and down carefully. ¡°You¡¯re not what I expected¡­¡± I didn¡¯t know how to react. Should I apologize? Shrug? I ended up giving a half-hearted bow with my head. ¡°And you certainly don¡¯t say much. The silent type?¡± She stalked in a slow circle around me, appraising me like an item in a store. Like some vehicle or piece of furniture she was contemplating buying. Yes, I am the Volunteer. I¡¯m here about the¡­ problem. ¡°No need to be so formal. Do you have a name?¡± My official designation is¡­ I glanced down at my barcode. Looking at her arm, I saw she had none. I knew my Volunteer ID number wasn¡¯t what she was wanting, but what else could I say? A name. I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ some people call me Mag¨C My weak starter voice caught in my throat. I didn¡¯t want to say Magpie. What sort of name was that in a place like this? Besides, it wasn¡¯t even a name of my choosing. ¡°Mag? Is that short for Maggie? Magnus? Magdalena?¡± Something like that. The woman looked confused. She pursed her full lips and made a low humming sound in the back of her throat. ¡°How do I say this? What are your¡­ preferred pronouns?¡± My pronouns? ¡°Should I refer to you as a he? A she? A they?¡± I was at a loss. I¡­ I wish I knew that. Suddenly, I realized the two suit-wearing bots were standing in the room. How long had they been there? I hadn¡¯t heard them approach at all. One of the bots chastised the lady. ¡°Ma¡¯am, you shouldn¡¯t speak with the Volunteer.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll speak with whomever I please! My husband is a shareholder, you know. Go stand in the corner like you¡¯re meant to,¡± she snapped back. I watched with curiosity as the two bots reluctantly but obediently did as she asked, walking over and turning to stand with their backs against the wall on one side of the room. ¡°Nevermind them. Security Bots. I hired them after what happened to my husband. Did they brief you? I don¡¯t know how this all works.¡± I shook my head. ¡°My poor hubby was assaulted by these¡­ these horrid devil dogs¡­ while he was uptown. They had to take him offline because of arrhythmia. Can you believe it? It¡¯s been quite lonely¡­ but I digress. I hired these SecuBots for protection and they can¡¯t do diddly squat about my problem downstairs.¡± Devil dogs? I¡¯ve had a run-in with Hellhounds too. My condolences. ¡°Oh my, you have? You poor, brave thing. You must have come out the other side alright if you''re still standing here.¡± Um. Yes¡­ ma¡¯am. Was she impressed? Some emotion flashed there on her expensive face, but I was not sure what. My eyes flicked back to the moving images on the viewscreen. She followed my gaze. ¡°The Passion of Joan of Arc. Have you seen it? I¡¯m a bit of a preservationist. Like to rescue old films like this. Practically archeological now. But we mustn¡¯t lose who we were, don¡¯t you concur?¡± I can¡¯t really say. ¡°Ah yes, the silent type. All about business. Well no rush. The thing you¡¯re here to get rid of doesn¡¯t come out till nightfall.¡± I looked out the windows again. The sky remained clear and bright. The invisible sun shone on. Whatever the deal was, there seemed to be a day / night cycle in The Collective, or at least this section of it. ¡°We¡¯ll get you set up in the wine cellar. Wait for night and then bag the little nuisance when it appears.¡± The Clurichaun¡­ ¡°Whatever it is. It¡¯s been stealing my wine, night after night. Slips away into some hole I can¡¯t seem to find. I¡¯ve tried everything!¡± She strode into her spacious kitchen, her elegant bare legs gliding across the floor as her pillowy cotton robe floated behind her. Reaching somewhere out of sight, she produced a dark bottle of wine with a detailed tan label. ¡°1982 Chateau Lafite Rothschild. A personal favorite. One of the greatest wines ever produced. It is a blend, but alas¨Cone of the varietals is now extinct, of course. Can¡¯t ever be made again in the real world. The only place it can be enjoyed is in this land of make believe.¡± She smiled, flashing two rows of flawless white teeth as she pulled the cork and poured the wine into two waiting glasses. ¡°Care for a taste? Well that impish brute has been stealing my supply. And that won¡¯t stand. No, no, no. We paid far too much for the privilege of living here to put up with that nonsense.¡± I slowly walked into the kitchen. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, as if I would somehow sully this slice of paradise with my very presence. I was painfully conscious of my meager attire and generic features. The robotic visage of the Security Bots stared disapprovingly at my every move. I reached out and graciously accepted the glass, taking a sip. It tasted like¡­ wine. I can¡¯t say I had the most refined pallet. Maybe I needed a body-mod tastebud upgrade. Who knows. This is¡­ magnificent. Thank you. ¡°Isn¡¯t it though?¡± The woman sipped her wine, sighing appreciatively and lapsing into a wistful silence. ¡°Oh, where are my manners? My name is Monique. Monique Rossignol, lady of the house as it were. I guess in my extended isolation, I¡¯ve forgotten how to behave properly around other people.¡± She extended her smooth hand, each long finger ending with a perfectly manicured and painted nail. I shook it. About your problem¡­ ¡°Oh. Yes?¡± She seemed disappointed that I was turning the conversation to business once more. But I did have a job to do, and a potential bonus to earn. I was still anxious about this rare creature and wanted to learn whatever else I could. Why haven¡¯t the Security Bots been able to help with the¡­ intruder? She waved a hand dismissively at the two bots dressed like bouncers in a fancy nightclub or personal bodyguards for a celebrity. ¡°The SecuBots are fine with protecting me, but they are utterly useless when it comes to going on the offense against these¡­ these viruses. Their programming just can¡¯t compete! I sent a SecuBot down to guard the wine cellar days ago and the next morning I found its head had been removed and placed back on backwards. Useless.¡± You said viruses. So you believe these creatures, like hellhounds and clurichauns, are some sort of computer virus? ¡°Well what else could they be? Probably put here by some military-sponsored hacker group from East Asia. It¡¯s a zero sum game to some of these people, no matter that survival of the species is at stake.¡± The SecuBots fidgeted. One gave a fake digital cough. ¡°Ma¡¯am, we really must insist that protocols be followed. Citizens should not distract Volunteers in the course of their duties.¡± Mrs. Rossignol threw her free hand up in exasperation and rolled her eyes. ¡°Whatever. Let me show you to the wine cellar.¡± I quickly finished my wine and set the empty glass down, following after her. On the flickering viewscreen, the black and white heroine of the silent film was about to be burned at the stake. 14.2 I followed Monique down a narrow staircase into the sublevel. Automatic lights lining the ceiling pulsed softly. A climate control system clicked on to fight against the slightest change in temperature brought on by our arrival. An electronic dial on the wall registered 12¡ãC and 60% humidity. The wine cellar was larger than I was expecting. More vault than cellar, actually. Antiseptic and ultramodern. Concrete, metal, and glass. Four rows of tall, frosted glass wine walls proudly cocooned a dizzying array of bottles. Two of the racks were built into either side of the room, creating three walkable aisles between the collection. Large, pale square tiles lined the floor. ¡°Do you like it?¡± It¡¯s very nice. Is that a security camera in the corner? ¡°Yes, it is. And the answer to the question in your head is ¡®no.¡¯ I installed the camera after the first few break-ins, but the little fiend disabled it somehow. It¡¯s smart.¡± And no indication of how it is getting in? I looked around and saw, besides the door at the top of the stairs, only miniscule vent holes for the climate system. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re here for. Find a spot and get comfortable. After dark it is sure to appear, I guarantee it. The wicked thing just can¡¯t get enough drink. Reminds me of some relations I once had.¡± Uh. How long until it gets dark? ¡°Oh, I¡¯d say five hours or so. But who¡¯s to say if it won¡¯t show its ugly head sooner? Either way, you should settle in and get ready to spring the trap, so to speak.¡± I didn¡¯t say anything. It would have been nice if I had invested in some sort of actual trap. All I had were my gun and my knife. And five hours? I had no way of telling time. Maybe they sold timepieces at the Supply Depot. Although what would that even mean? Besides the ¡®cycles,¡¯ how would one measure time in The Commons, where it was perpetually dark? Even in this place, did the passage of time correlate to real time? Were there still 24 hours in a day? ¡°--if you need to.¡± I¡¯m sorry. What? I had zoned out there for a moment. ¡°I said, I have plenty of food and drink if you need anything. And if you need to use the facilities, you¡¯d best use them now.¡± Facilities? I¡­ no. I don¡¯t need anything. I could only assume by facilities she was referring to a bathroom. Did some people go so far as to replicate ALL aspects of the real world in the metaverse? It seemed that, for convenience sake, some functional necessities of our humanity could be edited out. Or perhaps that was the point. Citizens were more fully human, while I was just some shell. Not even a full person. And I had apparently volunteered for this. ¡°Great. Then I¡¯ll leave you to it. And please¡­ try not to damage anything. I know these bottles aren¡¯t real in the literal sense of the word, but that doesn¡¯t mean they aren¡¯t expensive.¡± Right. I¡¯ll do my best. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Maybe I shouldn''t lead with firing my revolver... I watched the lady of the house¡¯s perfectly manicured feet pad up the narrow stairs. She shut the door behind her and at once the room was sealed in a sort of atmospheric cocoon. The cellar must have been soundproofed. Only the faint hum of the climate control and lighting broke the silence. I slowly walked up and down the three aisles, looking for any clues that would suggest a point of entry or exit. I saw nothing. None of the fancy labels of the bottles meant anything to me either. Five hours. I would be stuck down here for five hours, minimum, before this thing I didn¡¯t even know if I could win against appeared. I decided to sit down at the foot of the stairs, back against a bare concrete wall, partially concealed behind one of the ends of the tall displays. I would wait. It was all I could do. Minutes passed. The automatic lights faded, bathing the cellar in a dim sheen. Midnight blue. I tried to remain perfectly still. I reminded myself that my breathing, the thudding of my heart, even the tics in my nervous system were not real. They were electronic signals. And if they were signals, I could control them. Maybe. Maybe not. There had to be a real world correlation. Somebody once said, a lamp inside a video game uses real electricity. And as Monique Rossignol intimated, even things that weren¡¯t real could still have a real cost. I wondered what the cost would be if I messed this up. Sitting in the cool darkness, trying to attune my measly 10 Perception to any sound, my mind began to wander once more. I realized that I didn¡¯t even know what year it was. That is to say, the year in the real world. Another piece of my memory that was lost. Dissociative amnesia as a reaction upon first entering The Collective, the Concierge had said. Yeah, but it still hadn¡¯t come back. Not a crumb of personal memory. Monique had shown me a bottle of wine from 1982. So it at least had to be after that year. There was no way the technology to create an immersive metaverse existed anytime close to that. Could I recall any historic events? Political leaders? Mikhail Gorbachev. Erich Honecker. Gustav Husak. Deng Xiaoping. Ho Chi Minh. Margaret Thatcher. Anything more recent? I strained, reaching for threads. Reaching for the secrets buried in the black box of my gray matter. The past¡­ my past¡­ it was like eels wriggling out of my grasp beneath the waters of a murky lake. My thoughts continued like this for an unknowable spell. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I should ready myself. With slow, subtle movements, so as not to set off the automatic lights, I materialized my Tincture of Fortune in one hand and my Push Dagger in the other. If I had a chance, any chance to kill this thing, I should at least try to maximize whatever rewards I could get. I would have 600 seconds from the time I drank it before the effects wore off. More time passed. And more. An interminable empty stretch. Until¡­ Click. A faint sound broke me from my fugue. I tensed. Click clack. I strained in the dark, not daring to move. At the end of the leftmost aisle, silhouetted in darkest blue, there was a form emerging from the ground. Something with right angles, like a title of the floor being raised, and a lumpy shadow crawling out from the depths below. A system notification chirped. [{rare} entity detected - Clurichaun] My pulse quickened. With my left hand, I nervously popped the top of my tincture and raised it to my lips. I downed the oily liquid in a single gulp. It tasted of sandalwood, burning and tingling down my throat. I dematerialized the empty bottle and gripped my dagger. 600 seconds. 599 seconds. 598 seconds. The creature¡¯s movements hadn¡¯t activated the automatic lights somehow. I could now see that it was fully emerged from beneath the floor, sliding the tile back into place. It walked with a strange waddling gait. It wore some sort of nightcap and apron, and small shoes with pointed toes as far as I could make out in the shadows. It was grunting, and mumbling to itself, waddling over to the nearest display wall and fingering the necks of the bottles one by one. Now. While it was distracted. I had to make my move. I lunged forward with my dagger outstretched. The automatic lights kicked on, flooding the cellar. The clurichaun¡¯s outfit was reddish brown like coagulated blood. He - it was a he - appeared disheveled. Dirty. As I charged, he swiveled his head in my direction. His face looked like a withered apple, with sunken, bloodshot eyes, a wiry unkempt beard, and burst capillaries spreading across his skin. His teeth were yellowed and chipped, his fingernails long and curled. His face twisted into a sinister sneer. ¡°Mar¨®idh m¨¦ th¨²!¡± 14.3 (+ third decision point) I thrust my dagger straight into the clurichaun¡¯s chest. Or where his chest should have been. Instead, I only made contact with the empty air. The image of the clurichaun, where he had been standing moments before, faded to nothing. I heard snickering laughter and wheeled around. The little brute was behind me, standing at the far end of the aisle between the wall and one of the center displays. He appeared wobbly, his strange speech slurred. ¡°Amad¨¢n m¨®r t¨²! Seo go l¨¦ir triobl¨®id le haghaidh f¨ªon lousy. N¨ª fi¨² fuisce n¨® beoir.¡± I turned, brandishing the dagger. I could sense my opportunity slipping away. No! I rushed forward again, trying to squeeze every ounce from my 20 Speed rating across the short distance. This time I swung the blade in a downward slashing motion, anything to make contact. Another trick! Another illusion. Pain exploded in my skull and a terrible crash filled my ears as the clurichaun, materializing at my side, smashed a wine bottle over my head. Ahhh! I stumbled away, inadvertently knocking several bottles from the display rack. They shattered on the floor, purple liquid mixing with the blood trickling from my matted hair. [Damage received. Essence: 10 remaining] Oh frag! My head pounded and my vision blurred. I wiped blood and wine out of my eyes just in time to see the creature throw a bottle at me. I dodged to one side, the glass bursting on the ground like some hand grenade. Another bottle. Then another. The clurichaun cackled spitefully, ripping the bottles from the racks and lobbing them at me. I thought these things were supposed to disappear to avoid capture! Instead, my uninhibited bounty seemed to be enjoying the sport. I ducked for cover behind the nearest end row and held my dagger ready. I couldn¡¯t withstand another blow like that. I could hear the creature laughing, muttering, stumbling over the broken glass. Then, all at once - it was silent. I feared the worst, that my quarry had vanished back into its hole. Well, maybe that wasn¡¯t the worst case scenario, all things considered. I slowly craned my neck to peek around the display wall. ¡°Diabhal m¨®r!¡± The clurichaun suddenly appeared on the other side of me and struck at my hand with a cobbler¡¯s hammer. It made contact with my dagger, hard enough to knock it from my grasp. I watched it horror as the dagger went skidding across the slick floor. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I attempted to back away, but slipped and fell. The drunk imp advanced, hammer in one hand, broken bottle in the other. It stabbed at my torso with the broken bottle, glass shards ripping into my coveralls. ¡°Diabhal m¨®r! Diabhal m¨®r!¡± I scrambled backwards on my hands and feet, feeling broken glass cut against the palms of my hands in the pooling wine until I reached the far opposite end of the aisle. I opened the front of my coveralls and reached inside, gingerly searching my skin for wounds. I felt none. My coveralls were damaged, but I was okay for the time being. And it seemed the cuts on my hands, although painful, weren¡¯t enough to bypass my 10 Defense and reduce my Essence any further. I looked up as the clurichaun stumbled forward, tripping on half of a broken wine bottle and crashing sideways against the wall. It let out some curse and struggled to right itself, taking up its hammer and broken bottle once more, narrowing its bloodshot eyes on me. I had one chance at this. With my hand still buried inside my coveralls, I concentrated - materializing my snubnosed revolver beneath the black fabric. The clurichaun stalked closer, purplish lips curled back over stained teeth. I tried to aim the short barrel of the gun upwards at the center of its mass. Then I fired. Once! Twice! [3 / 5 ammunition remaining] A hole ripped through the fabric of my coveralls and the revolver recoiled painfully against my ribs. The first shot went wide of the mark, ricocheting off some hard surface in the cellar. The second was a gut shot. The clurichaun screamed, dropping his weapons and collapsing to the ground, small gnarled hands clutching at his belly as bilous blood seeped generously from a hole in his ruddy shirt. I slowly rose to my feet, pulling the revolver out. I trained my eyes on my wounded prey and stepped forward, grabbing it by its lapels and aiming the gun straight at its forehead. I recalled the information I had gathered from the Archive: ¡®If he is caught, a clurichaun has the power to vanish if he can make his captor look away for even a moment.¡¯ I didn¡¯t dare even blink. I readied myself to pull the trigger and put an end to it. ¡°Stop. Beidh m¨¦ a thabhairt duit rud ar bith is mian leat!¡± he / it suddenly protested, raising one wrinkled hand in the air while keeping the other pressed against his gushing wound. His breath smelled awful. With a raised hand, the clurichaun snapped its fingers. Suddenly, two items appeared - one to my left, one to my right. Both were just out of reach. I kept my eyes ferociously trained on my target, daring only to strain with my peripheral vision at the mysterious objects. They seemed to be constructed of brown leather. [invasive anomalies detected] Invasive anomalies? [{rare} anomaly detected - Apothecary¡¯s Satchel] [{rare} anomaly detected - Magic Coin Purse] I sensed that the creature was somehow willing me to know what these objects were. It was offering them to me in exchange for its life. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. They were watering from the exertion of not blinking. The last thing I wanted was to fall for another trick, another illusion. Anomalies. Inanimate objects birthed from foreign code. What if one, or both, were fake? Could I kill this thing and then seize the plunder? What if they vanished the moment I killed their owner? Was it worth losing a 5,000 Crypt bounty for a chance at obtaining one or both of these rare items? Maybe I should just pull the trigger and try to grab one. 14.4 My finger curled around the stiff trigger. As the old proverb goes, a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. I fired, mere inches away from the wrinkled, leering face. The clurichaun¡¯s head exploded like a ripe gourd. Bits of brain and bone mass, matted hair, and raglike strips of skin spattered the tile floor behind. The discolored nightcap lay crookedly in a growing puddle of blood. [2 / 5 ammunition remaining] [Task Successfully Completed: Remove Clurichaun from Private Residence in Royal Heights] Almost immediately, the two conjured {rare} items began to fade from existence. I lunged for the closest one, forgetting which was which. I grabbed on, my fingers somehow slipping through the brown leather, failing to find purchase. Come on, come on, come on. It was the apothecary¡¯s satchel. I tried to manually add the item to my inventory before it was gone, but I could not. The satchel was between two worlds and fading rapidly from this one. Clawing into the satchel, my fingers brushed against something. Something that still had a bit of substance. I grabbed hold of this thing, whatever it was, and pulled it away, adding it to my inventory sight unseen. [1 {uncommon} coco de mer nut added to your Inventory] A nut? Was it a crafting material? I would take a look at that later. I waited until the barrel of my revolver cooled before dematerializing it back into my inventory. Probably didn¡¯t matter. Still sore about missing my chance at a free rare item, I turned my attention back to the kill. As I had seen before with the hellhounds, the diminutive corpse began to glow, motes of light drawing from it and coalescing in the air above. Quivering, shining geometry. And this time, a single crystalline card - glowing at turns green and red in the shifting prismatic light. I eagerly reached for my prizes and drew in a sharp breath as I felt the floating objects imbue themselves within me. [100 Crystals obtained] [Rare Data Card obtained - Clurichaun (Skill)] Woah! 100 Crystals. And a complete data card, not just fragments. Maybe that tincture actually paid off. I wondered how much better the rewards could have been if I invested more in my Probability statistic. Not so fast. I heard a tinkling noise as Crystals spilled onto the ground, rolling into the pooling wine and mixing with the shards of broken glass. [Alert! Account storage full.] I quickly checked my inventory. [ECONOMY MEMORY The data card, crafting material, and 32 Crystals had filled my storage to max (with my temporarily depleted Essence). I silently cursed and dropped to my knees, scooping the remaining Crystals into a pile as best I could. The clurichaun¡¯s corpse had already started melting into a black inky puddle, and then dissolving from view. Only the detritus of smashed bottles and my own blood splatter remained. I would have to haul these 68 Crystals back to The Commons manually. But how? I looked at my coveralls, torn as they were from the clurichaun¡¯s attack. I had an idea. I materialized my push dagger and began to cut the fabric of the coveralls at the waist, carefully working my way around until the entire top half came loose. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Thinking again, I cut off one of the arms, tying a makeshift bandage around the bleeding gash hidden somewhere beneath my wavy asymmetrical crop hairstyle. Then I laid the rest of the material on a dry spot on the ground, carefully picking the Crystals and placing them in the center of the fabric, then hoisting the edges and tying them into a sort of hobo sack. Assuming I completed my Task within the window to receive the bonus, I now had 5,000 Crypt waiting for me back at the bounty boards. 5,000 Crypt that I technically didn¡¯t have storage space for. I really, really needed to get ahead of this storage problem. Maybe one of those rare items would have helped. C¡¯est la (seconde) vie. I was now dressed in black pants, ragged around the midsection. I assumed that jeopardized the defensive capabilities of the item, but was too tired to care at the moment. As long as I didn¡¯t get any nasty surprises on my way home, I should be okay. Still didn¡¯t have money for the train. I wonder if¡­ I walked over to where the clurichaun had first entered the wine cellar, emerging as it had from beneath the floor. I got on my hands and knees, poking and prodding the edges of the large, square tiles. Could I pry one up? Was there some sort of tunnel or hidden underground lair? After about fifteen minutes of careful searching, I gave up. I couldn¡¯t get a single tile to budge, and in the original darkness and ensuing chaos, I couldn¡¯t even be sure what tile had moved in the first place. Or if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Maybe if my Perception were higher... My head stung, and I needed to get home before I got caught in another freak storm. It was a long walk from paradise. The lady of the house hadn¡¯t come to check on me. I recalled that the wine cellar was completely soundproofed. Nothing now but the steady whirr of the climate control system cycling out the last traces of gun smoke. Picking up my bundle of precious Crystals, I climbed the stairs unsteadily, careful not to lose my balance. I opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the main floor of the house. The door swung closed behind me. The two SecuBots stood, arms folded, waiting for me. I heard footsteps on the floor above, and the woman, in a completely different outfit, soon appeared. How long had I been in the cellar? ¡°Oh!¡± She stopped in her tracks when she saw me, eyes wide, and I realized what a sight I must have been. Stripped to my waist, revealing my bare, flat, hairless tan chest. A black headband. Dried blood (my own). Carrying a strange hobo sack. ¡°Oh, so it must be done then?¡± Yes. The creature won''t be bothering you anymore. ¡°And you¡­ are you okay?¡± I¡¯ll live. ¡°Well thank heavens. You managed to do in a single night what these stupid bots were wholly incapable of doing. Bravo to that, I say. Might I offer you a tip? Is that permissible?¡± A tip? Like payment for a job well done? At this, one of the SecuBots interjected. ¡°Ma¡¯am, you really shouldn¡¯t¨C¡± She dismissed the bot with an angry wave of her hand, then began scrolling her finger across some sort of smartwatch device on her wrist. ¡°How does 1,000 Crypt sound? Does that count as a decent tip these days? I''m afraid it''s been awhile since I''ve transacted business with people from the... uh, service professions." That¡­ that is quite generous. Thank you. ¡°Don''t mention it! Just give me your account number and I can transfer it right over.¡± My account? Oh¡­ I¡­ I don¡¯t have an account. At least I don¡¯t think so. ¡°No account?¡± Uh¡­ Mrs. Rossignol squinted in obvious confusion, finger hovering over the screen on her wrist. I realized I could likely open a sort of account at the Repository. I wasn¡¯t sure if that would be the same type of account that Citizens were used to dealing with. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t have any other way to pay you.¡± Sigh. The concept that I didn''t have a bank account for storing Crypt was apparently harder for this woman to comprehend than the fact that a fae creature from Irish folklore was just killed in her basement. My Task is complete. I¡¯ll be paid the amount I agreed on for the job. Nothing more for you to worry about¡­ ma¡¯am. She pushed past me, heading for the door down to the wine cellar. ¡°But of course. I¡¯m so curious, though, how did you manage to¨C¡± She stopped on the stairs, frozen in place. The SecuBots stared at me vacantly from behind their black visors. ¡°What¡­ the¡­ FRAG!?¡± Now it was my turn to freeze. ¡°WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY WINE CELLAR!? MON DIEU!¡± I heard her footsteps clattering quickly down the stairs, no doubt surveying the wreckage. Smashed bottles, blood stains, a bullet hole or two. Hey, it could have been a lot worse. I coughed politely and nodded to the unreadable SecuBots. ¡°THIS IS A DISASTER! No, no! My 1947 Cheval-Blanc? My Screaming Eagle Cab? Oh, you FRAG! You smelly little Volunteer piece of SHIVA! Get out of my house! Get the frag out of my HOUSE RIGHT NOW!¡± 15 - Serpents Chapter 15 - Serpents I made the long slog back through Royal Heights to the security checkpoint leading into The Commons. The gloom and darkness grew with each step until they enveloped the world. Paradise lost. The faceless Polizei bots stared at my half-naked, bloodied, hobo-looking form. I could sense, if not see, their condescension. Even disdain. Glory to the Volunteers. Cautious, I made my way to the bounty boards, avoiding the neon-soaked main thoroughfares and taking a more circuitous route to my destination. I was one solid hit away from death. Although I had no reason to believe invasive creatures were prowling the streets of The Commons, manually hauling this much loot put me on edge. The only emotional rush stronger than the heightened joy of suddenly acquiring wealth was the precipitous despair of losing it. I couldn¡¯t go too slow, however. If the skies started dripping pink I might lose my bonus, and I had no way of knowing when that would be. Or would the fact that I completed my task before the next Cycle count? Something told me the system wouldn¡¯t be that forgiving. As I walked, I did some mental math. I had no available storage and would need 50 to hold my 5,000 Crypt payout. I could remove 30 of my 32 Crystals from my inventory and add them to my makeshift sack. I could also remove my revolver, freeing up the remaining 20. Not ideal. If I collected my bounty and then died before backing up my data, I could lose it all anyway. And yet I could not back up anything that was not part of my inventory. Sigh. I really needed to get ahead of this storage issue. Had I only been faster, more decisive, maybe I could have grabbed one of those rare items from the clurichaun. One problem at a time. I stepped into the square and approached the Task Assignment Boards. The streets were oddly empty here. But why? Even the Armory and Supply Depot beyond had no customers going in or out. Working quickly, I removed all 32 Crystals from my inventory as well as my snubnosed revolver, kneeling and adding them into my carrying sack, which I re-tied. [MEMORY I accessed the bounty boards, scanning my code. My bounty appeared on the screens. [Task Complete: Remove Clurichaun from Private Residence in Royal Heights. Assigned to: Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Task Completion Award: 4,000 Crypt Bonus Award: 1,000 Crypt Would you like to receive payment?] Oh, yes. The electronic bits streamed into me and I eagerly absorbed them. 5,000 Crypt! The bounty boards shifted as new bounties appeared and others vanished. But the rate was slower than I had seen before, as if there was less bounty traffic at this time. Much less. [Alert! Account storage almost full.] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I double checked my menus just to confirm the money was there. [ECONOMY MEMORY There was a click somewhere behind me. The heel of a boot stepping on asphalt. I slowly turned, clutching my bundle of goods. ¡°Oi! What do we¡¯s have here?¡± There were four of them. Black denim and leather. Punk rock boots. A marble-eyed goon with a cobra patch on his vest and a butterfly knife in his hand. Razor. ¡°How nice. You remembers me. I don''t think we¡¯s loveted your eemya last raz we met.¡± I¡¯m sorry? ¡°No worries. We''s just gonna slice your barcode off as a malenky trophy. And we''s be taking your pretty polly too.¡± Razor, Buzzcut, and the other two cobras fanned out in a semicircle. They didn¡¯t know how much Essence I had, or what my stats were. They couldn¡¯t know what weapons I was packing. But I was obviously the worse for wear. Razor licked his lips, crouching into a knife-fighting stance. ¡°We¡¯s can do this the easy way or we¡¯s can do this the hard way. I''m really hoping you chooses the hard way.¡± I swallowed, backing up until I bumped against the bounty boards. My eyes darted to the left left and right, looking for the best route to make a run for it. My revolver was tied up in the bundle. With my free hand behind my back, I subtly materialized my dagger. Then - CRACK! The cobras froze as a puff of smoke ricocheted across the dark ground between us. Was that a gunshot? ¡°What the¨C¡± CRACK! Another shot rang out, pinging off the ground. The four goons dropped low, franticing looking for the source of the gunfire. I too searched wildly, leaning close to the bounty boards for any protection they might offer. ¡°Where¡¯s it coming from!?¡± Razor shouted. ¡°Show yourself!¡± There was a loud clanking and the metal ladder of a fire escape from a nearby building dropped down. A figure wrapped in some sort of dirty tan blanket hung from the ladder, then dropped to the ground. It held a hunting rifle in two hands and shambled toward us. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I recognized that unusual gait. Throwing back the hood of the urban ghillie suit, I saw Camel¡¯s trademark welding goggles and knit skullcap. He flashed a gap-toothed smile, training the hunting rifle on Razor. ¡°Be a horrorshow malchick and go domy, britva. Ookadeet my poor lad oddy knocky.¡± I had no clue what Camel was saying, but I was very glad to see a friendly face. Razor made a show of flipping his butterfly knife around before dematerializing it. His companions remained tense, and each held on to their weapons. I side-stepped across the pavement until I was next to Camel. Razor threw up his hands in protest, a playful expression on his face. ¡°Just a lomtick of fun, Camel. We''s didn''t means nothing by it. Hazing the noob is all.¡± Camel aimed down the sights of his rifle right at the center of Razor¡¯s chest. ¡°All the same, you''d best get out of here before I give you an extra yahma.¡± The cobras stood their ground. Razor¡¯s playful expression faded, his grin souring with malice. His metallic lower jaw and black-within-black eyes reflected the city¡¯s neon glare. ¡°There''s four of us and dva of you. How¡¯s you figure that math?¡± Plink. Plink. Plink. Small raindrops spattered the ground. Nobody moved. Light rivulets of pink ran through my hair, mixing with my dried blood. The torn strip of my coveralls wrapped around my head grew damp, my bare chest wet. The goons gnashed their teeth. One by one, they dematerialized their weapons and slowly backed away, looking up at the sky. Camel followed Razor¡¯s every move with his barrel. ¡°Saved by the rain, noob. Saved by the fraggin¡¯ rain.¡± The storm grew heavier, and the four cobras receded into the darkness of a sidestreet. I turned to Camel in relief. Thank you! You don¡¯t know how happy I am to see you. How did you¡­? Why did¡­? ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. I wanted to find my droogie and viddied around. I figured you''d make it back to the bounty boards eventually. Why are you messing around with those serpents?¡± Serpents? I am not messing with them. They are messing with me. I don¡¯t even know who they are and I don¡¯t care to know. ¡°They seem to have taken a shilarny in you. Come back to my nook, we can wait out the rain together.¡± As the rain increased, I hustled after Camel to the Residential Towers. We shared the cage elevator and rode up on Camel¡¯s scan to his floor and hurried down the dim hallway.. Soon I found myself crawling into his capsule, under the number 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00111001. I found it much the same as mine, albeit larger. He had a long workbench with gun parts and other items built into one wall. He also had some high-tech crates stacked in one corner and a tiny kitchenette with a sink the size of an airplane bathroom sink. The place reeked of smoke and booze. Crawling on my hands and knees, I sat beside his sleeping pallet while Camel removed his ghillie suit and hunting rifle. The rifle he lovingly placed on his workbench, and the ghillie suit he somehow dematerialized into one of his storage crates. His hands were to his lips in a moment, lighting a fresh cigarette. ¡°Care for a cancer?¡± No thank you. He shrugged and dragged heavily on the cigarette, absorbed in the tactile pleasure of the behavior. As before, I was completely dry despite the heavy rain only minutes before. Listen, I don¡¯t want to be a bother. You¡¯ve done so much for me already, I can head back to my tube. Camel shook his head. ¡°No. You rest here. Safer to stay at this point. I wanted to lovet up and viddy how you are doing. Completed a bounty on your own?¡± That¡¯s right. Clurichaun. Rare. Camel closed his eyes and nodded sagely, sucking in a lungful of smoke and blowing it out in a billowing stream. ¡°Ah, yes. Seen odin before. Never killed odin. Tricky buzzards.¡± I had learned from context that ¡®odin¡¯ meant one in the strange parlance spoken by some of the Volunteers. Not the Norse god. But then again¡­ I got this rare data card. I materialized the greenish red card and it floated above my open palm, slowly spinning as the artificial capsule lights played off it. Camel whistled appreciatively. ¡°A rare card? On only your second bounty? That is special.¡± It is labeled Skill. What does that mean exactly? ¡°Cards can be used for different veshches. Could boost a weapon or armor, some can become skills, some really special cards can even turn into weapons or armor. Many can go either way. But looks like this odin can only be fused onto a skill slot at the forge.¡± No doubt that fusing would cost Crystals. I concentrated on the spinning data card, seeing if I could access any additional details. [Data Card: Clurichaun Card Type: Skill Frequency: Rare Skill Details: Project an illusory image of yourself anywhere within 30 feet. Illusion lasts 30 seconds. Skill takes 30 seconds to recharge after the image fades. Interacting with the image will not dispel it. Skill Cost: 30 Energy Size: 10 metabytes] That¡¯s a lot of thirties. So if I paid to fuse this skill onto a ¡®skill slot,¡¯ I could create a temporary illusion. That could come in handy. But 30 Energy? I only had 10. I would have to upgrade my Energy stat twice. Camel, how many skill slots do I have? ¡°Four is the default.¡± And how do you replenish Energy after you use it? ¡°That¡¯s easy. Same way you get Essence back. Just rest during a Cycle change. That, or pop some consumables.¡± Ah. I also then realized I would need to free up 8 additional metabytes of storage space if I wanted to recharge my Essence to full during my next rest. Camel, I want to get your advice on my storage situation. But I¡­ I¡¯m feeling pretty spent all of a sudden. I should head back to my tube. ¡°Nah. Just sleep here. You can use my pallet. I¡¯ll just be cleaning and oiling my rifle and having a smoke. We can govoreet when you come to.¡± Thanks. You¡¯re a friend. Oh, that reminds me! I have something for you. A gift. I untied my sack of loot and pulled out a bottle of wine, handing it to Camel. He took it in both hands, examining it curiously. ¡°Where did you get this?¡± It¡­ uh¡­ accidentally fell into my bag when I was in a Citizen¡¯s wine cellar in Royal Heights. I¡¯m told it is very, very expensive. At least, it would be in the real world. ¡°Quite the pack rat, aren¡¯t you? Seems a lomtick too messel for my taste. I¡¯m a simple moodge. But thanks.¡± Camel set the fancy bottle aside and began to dismantle his rifle, piece by piece. His second cigarette in as many minutes dangled from his lips. A rat? Great. I think I preferred being a magpie to being a rat, although neither were all that endearing. I felt a deep tiredness starting to overpower me. I removed my push dagger from my inventory and placed it in my bag, retying it. Now I would have enough storage space to get my full Essence back. If Camel stole my bag while I was asleep, I would be right and truly screwed. But I knew where he lived. And not trusting anyone was too exhausting. We all need a safe port in a storm. Camel¡­ the last time I rested when it was raining, I think I had some kind of disturbing dream. I can¡¯t remember the details, but I feel a deep anxiousness about it. A premonition that something terrible is waiting for me. And yet, I can barely keep my eyes open. ¡°Don''t worry, my droogie. I''ll watch over you while you spatchka. I¡¯ll keep the baddiwad dreams away.¡± 15.1 ELSEWHERE Razor and the other goons hurried down an alley, ducking under awnings whenever possible to avoid the falling rain even as it began to pool up to their ankles. Razor cursed under his breath. He had twice been made a fool by that ugly noob. And now that old vagrant had interfered. But nothing could be done about the rain. Bad timing. The Cycles weren¡¯t exactly predictable, after all. ¡°I¡¯m heading back to the penthouse to waits out the storm. Buzzcut, Glitch, Roadkill, you coming with?¡± ¡°The penthouse? Are you sure?¡± Glitch said nervously. ¡°Is¡­ is HE there?¡± ¡°Nah, he¡¯s still on his journey. It¡¯ll just be us. We¡¯s can party.¡± Razor wanted to get Glitch alone ever since their recruitment. See exactly what was inside their pants. And he had a special powder to slip into their drink that just might help erase any objections. ¡°That place gives me the creeps,¡± Glitch answered. ¡°I¡¯m going to hole up in a Rez den. And I know Roadie¡¯s down for that.¡± Roadkill gave a thumbs up. She would love nothing more than to numb out from a strong hit of Rez right about now. ¡°Rez? That stuff will scramble your mozg,¡± Buzzcut complained. ¡°That¡¯s the bloody point, innit?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come with you,¡± Buzzcut said to Razor. ¡°There¡¯s some top shelf liquor in the penthouse, and you can¡¯t beat the viddy.¡± Razor nodded, and the group split. Sending one last longing look after Glitch, he and Buzzcut hurried down to the lower stretch of The Commons where one tower stood a bit taller than the surrounding buildings. It had the look of a newer construction, and the letters NADIR were stenciled on the top. Wading through the floodwaters, the duo entered the lobby, slicking off the wetness, and entered the waiting freight elevator on the far end of the marble floors. With a mischievous look, Razor produced a golden key from inside his vest and inserted it into a panel on the elevator. The doors closed, and the elevator rose. They stepped out into a dark penthouse, spanning the entire top floor of Nadir Tower. Generous windows looked out in every direction over the shimmering lights of The Commons, increasingly swallowed by the torrential pink rain. The fossilized skeleton of some ancient beast was mounted on display, along with other relics and artifacts decorating the expansive space. Ignoring these, Razor and Buzzcut hurried to a large open kitchen, rummaging in the cupboards until they found a bottle of whisky with a red wax seal. Stripping off the wax, they took turns sipping straight from the bottle, giggling. Ohmmmmmmmm. They tensed. Buzzcut, wide-eyed, turned to Razor. Ohmmmmmmmm. A deep vibrato, humming in the darkness. Razor mouthed, ¡®He¡¯s here.¡¯ Setting the bottle down on the counter with a gentle clink, Razor shuffled deeper into the penthouse. Buzzcut, trembling ever so slightly, followed close behind. In the center of the penthouse, an enormous man sat in the lotus position in the middle of a painted circle. He was fair-skinned and completely hairless, clad only in a fundoshi loincloth. His eyes were shut, and he was meditating in front of an ancient slab of stone emblazoned with hieroglyphs of winged serpents. Razor began to speak but the man raised a large finger to his lips, commanding silence. He returned to his meditation. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Ohmmmmmmmmm. As he meditated, two large snakes - tattoos on his back - began to writhe and move, twisting and slithering across the canvas of his flesh. Impossibly alive. Ohmmmmmmmmm. Ohmmmmmmmmm. After several minutes, the chanting ceased. The snake tattoos coiled together, reformed, each swallowing the other¡¯s tail in a round ouroboros design. The man rose to his feet, reaching for a silk kimono that he wrapped around his huge frame. He clapped his hands twice, and low lights filled the room. Then, and only then, did he turn to acknowledge the two men. ¡°Herr Schl?chter! I¡­ I didn¡¯t know you were back,¡± Razor began. ¡°Der Schl?chter, not Herr.¡± ¡°Y-yes. I¡¯m sorry, Schl?chter. I keep forgetting. How was your trip? Did you find what you was viddying for out there?¡± ¡°A piece.¡± His voice was deep and melodious. ¡°That''s horrorshow! That''s really horrorshow!¡± Buzzcut added in eagerly. Too eagerly. Der Schl?chter narrowed his eyes and looked down at the men who came no higher than his chest. It felt as if he were gazing into their very souls. ¡°It is fortunate that you came here tonight, Razor. A rumor has come to my ears that is most disturbing.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°I heard that you embarrassed us at the Armory. You and some of the new members were harassing a Volunteer and they humiliated you in public.¡± If Razor could Shiva in his pants, he would have. ¡°Where¡­ did you slooshy that?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just say a little bird told me.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t knows the whole story! This Volunteer¡­ they was cheating! I don¡¯t knows what happened, but there was something strange going on. I swear I¡¯ll get even¨C¡± A single movement of his hand silenced Razor. ¡°The Volunteer is nothing. A nobody, from what I¡¯ve been told, with no reputation to speak of. Our reputation, on the other hand, was injured by your impetuous actions. We are not some street gang of impudent hoodlums. We are a family. And without upholding that most sacred of things¨Creputation¨Chow is our family to grow?¡± Razor broke out in a cold sweat. ¡°Y-yes, sir. I mean¡­ Herr¡­ I mean, it won¡¯t happen again¡­¡± ¡°Nevertheless, a price must be paid for your transgression.¡± ¡°Well, it was actually his fault!¡± Razor pivoted, thrusting an accusatory finger at Buzzcut. A look of absolute betrayal crossed the other man¡¯s pale face. ¡°We¡¯s challenged that uppity noob to a shooting contest, and-and-and¡­ Buzzcut lost! He¡¯s the odin that brought shame on us!¡± Der Schl?chter turned his steady gaze on Buzzcut. ¡°Is this true?¡± Buzzcut gulped. ¡°T-technically, yes.¡± Der Schl?chter sighed and placed his huge hand on the other man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You are young, and we are family. Forgiveness is possible, even desirable. But a price must be paid. Do you understand this?¡± Buzzcut was nearly petrified. The silver grill on his teeth clattered as he trembled. But, he managed to nod that he did understand. ¡°Come with me.¡± Der Schl?chter walked to the kitchen, moving gracefully for a man of his size. Razor and Buzzcut obediently followed. Ignoring the open bottle of whisky, der Schl?chter reached below the wide countertop in the middle of the kitchen and removed a black bundle. He set it down and slowly rolled it open like a parchment scroll, revealing all manner of knives, blades, and butchery tools. ¡°Choose.¡± Buzzcut met the man¡¯s eyes for an instant, then looked away. The gaze was too intense. ¡°This is an act of grace. That you may choose.¡± Buzzcut looked down at the various implements. Stealing himself for the inevitable, he pointed to a small paring knife. The enormous man shook his head from side to side, pursing his lips in gentle reproval. He selected a meat cleaver. ¡°No, my dear child. I did not mean that you should choose the blade. I meant that you should choose what part of your flesh the blade should be used upon.¡± Later, as Buzzcut lay stretched out naked on the butcher¡¯s block, a rag stuffed in his mouth to stop his screams, der Schl?chter quietly recited the following verse: Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door. 16 - Schwarzmarkt Chapter 16 - Schwarzmarkt I awoke with a start. If one could accurately label what happened as waking at all. Whatever the case, I roused from some deeper unconsciousness to the present state of awareness that constituted my so-called existence. At first I didn¡¯t know where I was. It was dark and claustrophobic, the air so thick with smoke it stung my eyes groping for the light. I reached out in the unfamiliar space, knocking something off something else with a loud clatter. Shiva. Wait. Camel¡¯s place. That¡¯s right. I took a deep breath, inhaling stale cigarette fumes, and ran my hands over the wall of the cramped room, feeling for the dial that would bring the light. At last I found it. I was alone. I remembered that I fell asleep in Camel¡¯s tube when the Cycle changed, but my eccentric companion was nowhere to be found. Just the detritus of his meager life. A menu notification flashed in my vision. [Refresh complete. Essence restored. Energy at full.] I ran my fingers through my hair and found the bandage still wrapped around my head. I slowly removed it and examined it under the fluorescence. It was caked with dried blood, but when I felt around my skull I realized the wound was gone. My coveralls were still in tatters. Obviously a refresh didn¡¯t repair items or armor. Still - I felt renewed strength within me. I vaguely recalled that my last rest had not been so peaceful, but I could not place my finger on why. Yet another lacuna in my higher cognitive processes. I looked around. Alone in Camel¡¯s capsule. His rifle gone from the workbench. I couldn¡¯t say if anything else was missing or out of place. I resisted the unusually strong urge to try and peek in the curious storage crates stacked in the corner. Oh Shiva. My bag. Where is my bag!? Frantic, I twisted around in the small space, trying to locate my precious belongings. It had been right beside me when I went under. Could Camel have¡­ would he have¡­? Oh. There it is. Somehow it was underneath the workbench. Camel must have moved it, because I saw a piece of square paper skewered to the top of the bundle¡¯s fabric. I quickly grabbed the sack and removed the long wooden skewer, like something one would find at a food stall serving yakitori chicken hearts. On the piece of paper was a crude drawing of a rat. What? Did I get played after all? Was Camel calling me a rat? Had he stolen my stuff as payback for some previous insult, or to score some easy drinking money? Wait, no. I was getting paranoid. Get a grip. This rat¡­ I recognized it. It was the logo for the Rathskeller. This was Camel¡¯s way of letting me know where he went. Sigh of relief. I untied the bundle and counted the contents anyway. 100 Crystals. One revolver. One dagger. Everything in its right place. And what was that? There was something else stuffed inside of the bag. Not only had Camel not ripped me off, he actually left me something extra. I reached in and pulled out a pad of soft material, which I unfolded. It was a t-shirt. A bright, white t-shirt. Turning it around, I saw the Reality Inc. corporate logo emblazoned and a gaudy catchphrase, ¡®Living my best Second Life!(?)¡¯ Ugh. Thanks? Not exactly inconspicuous, but it was a temporary solution to walking the streets topless. I slipped on the shirt and decided to check my inventory. [EQUIPMENT The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Damaged? I was afraid of that. Looking closer, the coveralls were still taking up 10 precious metabytes of storage, but offering me nil defense. I wondered if there was a way to repair armor. I also wondered how this shirt ended up in Camel¡¯s possession. I knew I had a lot I needed to do in this new Cycle. I had Crystals to burn. I had 5,000 Crypt to spend. I needed to solve my storage dilemma. And lastly, I needed to visit the Restoration Point. Removing much needed items from my inventory just to make room for Crypt was not sustainable, especially if I expected to chase bigger paydays. I wanted to visit the Repository, but felt the need to talk more with Camel and pick his brain. I got ready and headed to the Rathskeller. But when I arrived, Camel was nowhere to be seen. The place was packed, but he wasn¡¯t at the bar. However, I did see a familiar face. The meticulous female bartender in the smart bowtie. Several Volunteers gave me the side-eye as I squeezed into a space at the long wooden bar, no doubt appraising my unusual shirt. I ignored them, waving for the bartender¡¯s attention. After she finished filling the glasses of a few others, she walked down to me, the same flawless smile on her face as before. I had to raise my voice over the throbbing music. Hi. Do you remember me? ¡°Of course I do. I never forget a face. Although the hair is new.¡± Wow. Wait, haven¡¯t you seen a lot of people with this same face? I was under the impression it was pretty basic. ¡°I was being polite. I remember your ID.¡± She nodded to the numbers permanently branded on my exposed wrist. She must have had some sort of eidetic memory. Probably was a bot after all. Can I ask what your name is? ¡°Yes, of course you can ask,¡± she said before lapsing into intentional silence, her smile not wavering for a nanosecond. What is your name? She just smiled. Right¡­ I was looking for Camel. Have you seen him? ¡°Oh, sure. He¡¯s watching the fight.¡± Fight? The bartender turned and looked toward the back of the building, as if that meant something to me. All I saw was the crush of bodies drinking and undulating to pulsing techno. ¡°Are you going to order something? If not, I have other customers I need to attend to. Might I recommend a special drink for the occasion?¡± Occasion? She winked at me. Or at least I thought she did. What do you recommend? ¡°A mind eraser.¡± I¡¯m sorry? ¡°I recommend ordering a mind eraser. It¡¯s a classic. 100 Crypt.¡± 100? I hadn¡¯t planned on spending any money here, but the way she was looking at me made me feel there was something else going on. I nodded. She smiled, gave a slight bow, and turned away, returning soon with a drink that was black and bubbly. Not the usual pale blue stuff, which only cost you 10. I reluctantly paid. I downed the strong drink and noticed something that looked like a poker chip stuck to the bottom of the empty glass. Lifting up the glass, I peeled off the token and turned it in my fingers. It had a faint iridescent glow. On one side was the familiar rat symbol. On the other, a deceased rat - upside down, eyes dramatically Xed out, tongue lolling. I looked up at the bartender for an explanation but she was already off serving other Volunteers. My gaze swung back to the rear of the building. Hard to see through the crowds. Thought I¡¯d better get a closer look. I pushed back through the bodies and tables. The Round Table in the center was vacant despite a want for seats. Probably nobody dared sit there unless you were part of that elite group. I kept going, cutting through a busy dance floor. ¡°Hey, wanna dance?¡± ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going!¡± ¡°Nice shirt ya gloopy nazz.¡± I ignored the voices, pressing back to the far wall. There was a large complex jukebox of sorts, spinning tunes. We were apparently listening to something called Sonic Destroyer by X-101, or was it X-101 by Sonic Destroyer? I had no way of knowing if that song existed in the ¡®real world¡¯ or was just a product of the metaverse. Also, an intimidating man in a trenchcoat with a braided beard, metal arm, submachine gun strapped across his chest, and a horned helmet sat on a tall stool, balancing a glowing red katana against a point on the floor. I tentatively held up my token, and he bared two rows of golden teeth in response. He banged on the wall behind him with his metal fist and a glowing outline appeared. Soon, there was a door where moments before there had been none. I stepped through into a scene of impending violence, gripping my precious loot bag, suddenly questioning my second life choices. 16.1 A large, circular backroom was bathed in ultraviolet. A crush of Volunteers pressed against a metal dome-like cage sunken in the center, jeering and shouting. The pulsing music from the next room was reduced to the dull roar of an echoey, underwater rumbling. There was a smattering of high top tables throughout the space. Motely Volunteers leaned against them and sipped their drinks. My embarrassing t-shirt shone like a beacon under the oppressive blacklights, but no one looked my way. All attention was on the cage. ¡°Ay! You!¡± Camel was using a high top as a crutch, already quite tipsy through a process I had not yet discovered. Didn¡¯t the Cycle just start? Well, it had to be 5 o¡¯clock somewhere. He waved me over with one fingerless gloved hand. ¡°Come to watch the spar? Still raz to make a bet.¡± A bet? ¡°Wager. Gamble. You know?¡± Uh oh. There was that tingly sensation again. That twitchy urge deep within me. What is it we¡¯re betting on? ¡°This match? Clean spar. Odin on odin. No guns. No items. Melee and skills only. To the death.¡± To the death? I craned my neck, trying to see who was in the cage. My virtual breath caught in my throat when I saw an ashen-skinned woman with intense white dreadlocks. It was Rook, from the Round Table. And who else was in there with her? Another female I had seen somewhere - shorter and stocky, with a pink mohawk, spiked shoulder pads, and heavy black boots. They circled each other like caged tigresses. The pink-haired woman clutched a massive silver battle axe in both hands, some rune-like designs on the blade. Rook dual-wielded the kusarigama I had seen her use before to deadly effect, connected by chains to some spot between her shoulder blades, possibly to the metal collar around her throat. ¡°My pretty polly is on Rook. Pixie doesn''t stand a chance, even with that messel new axe.¡± But why? Why are they fighting? ¡°You''d have to ask somebody who pays more attention. For the sport of it? For the pretty polly? Maybe some baddiwad krovvy?¡± I shook my head. I had a lingering admiration for Rook, and I didn¡¯t want to see harm come to her. I stood on my tip toes and spotted her partner Bigwig against the outside of the cage, shouting encouragement to her ringside. It didn¡¯t look like any blows had been landed yet. What is this place exactly? ¡°The Schwarzmarkt. Well, right now it¡¯s the Fleischmarkt, but soon enough it will be the Schwarzmarkt again. Good for making trades off book. Barter system mostly.¡± A loud siren blared overhead. I flinched at the sudden sound, then slowly straightened myself, feeling a bit foolish. I set my bag on the high top and gripped it tight in both hands. ¡°You missed your chance! The spar is starting. Can''t make any more wagers.¡± I had a suspicion that was probably for the best. In the ring, the woman called Pixie charged forward, swinging the battle axe. Rook bent her knees and arched her body backward in an instant, the heavy axe humming just above her torso. Wow, those were some impressive reflexes. I wondered what her Agility score must be to pull off a dodge like that. The gawkers went wild, cheering and slapping the metal wall surrounding the combatants. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Rook righted herself and slashed with her sickles as she advanced, left - right - left - right. Pixie held the silver haft of the axe vertically in defense, parrying each blow as it came. She had some moves too. Rook went for a leg sweep, and the stocky woman leapt in the air. Rook answered with an acrobatic downward slash over her shoulder as she spun, unluckily clanging against one of her opponent¡¯s spiked pads. Pixie yelled and thrust her now horizontal haft sideways, shoving the nimble Rook backwards in the ring several paces. Creating some distance. Pixie pounded her chest and her eyes flashed red. Were my own eyes playing tricks on me, or did a coat of primal fur appear over her shoulders and arms? Suddenly, she charged forward, slashing wildly with the large axe, yelling with guttural rage. Rook ducked back, turned, and made a sharp dash to the right, sprinting straight up the side of the cage wall itself, seeming to defy gravity as she narrowly dodged chop after slash coming after her. The crowd screamed with excitement. ¡°Berserker trance,¡± Camel muttered before draining a glass and belching. A skill. After a time, the effects of the skill wore off, and Pixie¡¯s assault slowed. The animalistic skin I had either perceived or imagined was gone. Without missing a beat, Rook performed a backflip off the wall of the cage and landed right in front of Pixie, jabbing the sharp point of one sickle into her exposed calf. Pixie yelped with pain, blood dotting the floor. The crowd hooted. Pixie brought the axe down with all her might, crashing into the floor right where Rook had been a second before. Had Rook been a moment slower she might have been bisected on the spot. Still like your odds? I wasn¡¯t even sure if Camel was paying attention to the fight anymore. He seemed to be preoccupied with ogling some nubile form across the room. ¡°Oh yeah, that devotchka¡¯s got nothing on Rook,¡± he said. Gasps of surprise turned my attention back to the fight. Pixie had activated another skill, blowing a gust of frigid vapor just as Rook brought one of her sickles down for an attempted killing blow. Her arm froze instantly, locked in icy blue suspension above her head. Immobilized. ¡°Frost Giant something something¡­¡± slurred Camel by way of running commentary. There was tittering around the room. I overheard someone complain that Pixie was ¡®overdoing it¡¯ with the Scandinavian mythos. Whatever she was doing, her next move was devastating. She swung her silvery axe straight at the exposed, frozen arm. Rook tried to dodge but this time was too slow, as if the ice had affected her overall speed. The axe struck its mark, shattering Rook¡¯s arm like an oversized icicle. No! Cubed and jagged chunks of frozen flesh exploded and scattered across the floor of the cage. Rook winced in agony, her pupiless eyes growing even narrower, but gave no cry. Her right kusarigama fell to the ground, dangling from its limp chain. The crowd was in a frenzy, many begging to change their bets or make side-bets, however all that worked in here. Rook staggered back until she was up against the cage. Her will to fight had melted away. Bigwig pounded the cage, shouting advice, but Rook remained in a crouch, cringing from the terrible pain. Meanwhile, Pixie thrust her battle axe high in the air, soaking in a moment of glory before moving in for the finishing blow. Half the crowd egged her on, chanting. ¡°Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!¡± Pixie sauntered forward to do just that, running her finger against the sharp edge of the axeblade in a bit of showboating and licking the trickle of blood that appeared as a result. She raised the axe one last time. One last time, because all the while Rook was crouching she started to glow with faint blue energy. Then, in a flash, her missing arm regrew! She grabbed the loose chain and yanked it up and to the side with all her might, sending the prone kusarigama flying through the air and impaling itself into Pixie¡¯s temple. The crowd screamed, practically climbing up the sides of the cage in agitated, jubilant bloodlust. What just happened? ¡°That¡¯s a Hydra skill,¡± Camel snorted. That¡¯s¡­ incredible. So the Round Table hunters must have bagged that elusive Hydra after all. ¡°Costs a Shiva load of Energy though.¡± Pixie dropped her axe, staggering backwards. Rook ran forward, lightly vaulting over Pixie¡¯s shoulder and wrapping the twin chains around her neck, strangling the life out of her as the sickle¡¯s blade remained buried in the side of her head. Twin streams of stigmatic blood dripped down from Pixie¡¯s vacant eyes. Another siren blared. This time signaling the end. Rook let her opponent¡¯s lifeless body drop to the floor. Soon enough, it melted away into pixelated nothingness and only Rook remained standing from the deathmatch. Bigwig and her other companions from the Round Table cheered her victory, and bets were paid out to those who backed the winning horse. 16.2 (+ fourth decision point!) I let out a whistle, lost in the din of jubilant post-fight noise. I watched as a hatch built into the side of the cage opened and Bigwig helped his partner out. Volunteers cheered and toasted the violent delights of Rook¡¯s victory. Dram. I felt myself irresistibly drawn to the victorious fighter. Rook. She was such a badass. But did I want to BE LIKE her, or BE WITH her? I honestly couldn¡¯t parse it, only that I felt attracted like a nail to a high-powered magnet. At least being an involuntary eunuch simplified things. I wanted to go up and congratulate her on her win, but my legs wouldn¡¯t move. Rook was surrounded by her entourage and Volunteers celebrating the match. No way she would give me the time. Doubtful she remembered I existed. Anyway, I came here for a reason. I needed to focus. Camel, can I ask you something about storage? ¡°Sure. Fire away,¡± he said, turning his glass upside down and trying to drain the last few drops. I keep running out of Storage, which is not good. I know I can upgrade my Storage with Crystals, and I can purchase items or armor that can increase my Storage for certain categories. But what about Crypt? What do you recommend? I want to solve that problem before I tackle increasing my other Storage needs. Camel thought long and hard about this. I began to think he hadn¡¯t heard me and cleared my throat. He shook himself from his daze and began speaking. ¡°You have a few options. You can open an account at the Repository. They have a number of different services, all for a fee. Probably run 100 Crypt per Cycle per service for a low roller like you. Also, you can purchase some type of wallet accessory, although those are not always available in the shop rotation, and the storage space can be malenky. Or you could just stash the pretty polly under your mattress like me.¡± Mattress? ¡°Just a joke. You can keep veshches in your domy if you want, but some punks could try and crast it. And it can be a pain to have to trek back and forth just to get your stuff or add more Crypt to your pocket. There is another option¡­¡± I wondered what sort of things Camel stored in those containers back in his capsule. Based on his lifestyle, he didn¡¯t seem like the type to have accumulated great wealth. Then again, one should be careful to judge from outside appearances. What is the other option? Camel tapped the side of his neck. I saw nothing there but splotchy skin and stubble. ¡°Get an implant. Oh yeah, get a malenky bod mod surgery and install a chip. The job will run you 1,000 Crypt, plus the cost of the chip, but those things can store a lot of Crypt and you never need to run to the bank.¡± Get surgery to install a sort of computer chip into my neck? Like a memory card? Just then, an unfamiliar voice cut in over the cacophony of the Schwarzmarkt. ¡°Long time no talk, Camel. Who¡¯s your friend with the goofy shirt?¡± Another Volunteer I vaguely recalled seeing at the Round Table addressed Camel, who straightened up from leaning on the high top with a snort. The other man was tall and shirtless (save for some bondage straps), with dense tribal tattoos decorating his arms and pecs. He had flowing black hair, and wore platinum-colored spiked knuckles over his prominent fists. An amulet adorned with an evil eye hung from his muscular neck. ¡°This? This is¡­ they don¡¯t got an eemya yet. New krovvy. Just showing them the ropes.¡± You¡¯re with the Round Table? The man grunted, irritated that I had spoken to him without an explicit invitation to do so. ¡°That¡¯s right. They call me Apache.¡± Apache? ¡°Repeating a thing don¡¯t improve it. So Camel, you lose any money just now or did you do the smart thing and bet on our girl?¡± Camel flashed a gap-toothed smile and gave a wobbly thumbs-up. ¡°I always put my pretty potty on you bolshy pooshkas!¡± Excuse me, Apache. If you don¡¯t mind me asking, what was that fight all about? A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Ambitious climber. Pixie. She wanted a seat at the Round Table. Thing is, you got to prove yourself. Final step in the audition process is beating a current Round Table member. Guess she wasn¡¯t ready.¡± That girl got brutally killed as part of an audition process? Apache looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Which, well¡­ ¡°I¡¯m sure it hurt like hell. And her ego will be bruised for a while. But other than that, Pixie¡¯ll respawn at the Restoration Point a bit poorer. No hard feelings.¡± No hard feelings? Rook just stabbed her in the head and strangled her! ¡°Just the way the game is played. A little PvP never hurt anybody. Pixie could have challenged someone else from the Table. Probably wouldn¡¯t have made a difference. Wouldn¡¯t have minded an opportunity to put her in her place myself.¡± Another shrug from the tall man. He turned his attention back to Camel. ¡°Anyhow, the only reason I came over, Camel, is I wanted to see if you were in the market for a new rifle. Or did you just come to watch the fight? I came across an extraordinary piece but, you know, I¡¯m more of a melee guy.¡± Camel perked up a bit at this. ¡°Show me what you got.¡± Apache materialized a long, ornate sniper rifle that had a brass or even golden appearance. Gilded. Ribbed. It was difficult to tell exactly under the black lights of this back room. It was beautiful. It radiated power. I wanted to reach out and touch it. ¡°Vajra Rifle. Legendary. Powerful lightning damage. Can punch a hole clean through a monster at range. I think it was once a club, but the original owner must have exported it into a ranged weapon. Back in the day, you were looking everywhere for a Legendary rifle, isn¡¯t that right?¡± Camel shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His enthusiasm faded, replaced with haggard nonchalance. ¡°It¡¯s dobby. Messel. But I¡¯m a simple moodge now. And I don¡¯t got anything worth trading for a Legendary pooshka. Doubt I ever will again.¡± Apache looked disappointed. He briefly turned to me. ¡°Not likely you¡¯ve got something worth a Legendary trade? Not even sure you could handle this beauty in your current state.¡± I thought for a moment, then materialized my Clurichaun data card. The red and green item shimmered in the ultraviolet light as it spun in place. All I¡¯ve got is this Rare skill card. That and some crafting materials. Apache quickly dematerialized the rifle. ¡°Not a snowball¡¯s chance, but let me take a look at that card.¡± He hovered his fingers over the card rotating in the palm of my hand, reading the details. It felt a little invasive, especially with his spiked knuckles in close proximity. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for a skill like this. Something to give me an advantage. What would you trade for it? You obviously haven¡¯t fused it onto a skill slot yet, so it must not fit your build.¡± Uh¡­ no. I just acquired it recently. I haven¡¯t decided what I¡¯m going to do with it yet. ¡°What do you want for it? Money? Crystals? Items? Something else¡­? You¡¯re in the black market, after all.¡± Black market? Camel lit up another cancer. He was bored by the conversation, but added his two cents for my benefit: ¡°There¡¯s an auction flatblock on the top floor of the Supply Depot. Temporarily closed for a patch I think. But outside that, this is where Volunteers can barter or sell goods without Bolshy Bratty taking his cut.¡± Apache could read my confusion and rolled his eyes impatiently. ¡°Shielded tax free zone, courtesy of our friends in Antisoc. Didn¡¯t realize how much of a Metaverse virgin you were, Rookie,¡± he said with a sigh. ¡°What is your build? What are you trying to accomplish?¡± I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve got a dagger. I¡¯ve got a gun. I¡¯ve got some Hellhound data card fragments. I desperately need some storage. What do I want to accomplish? I want to get out of this place. Fulfill my contract. Survive. Isn¡¯t that what we all want? The tall man ignored my comments. ¡°Open your inventory and share it with me,¡± he instructed. How do I do that? Apache sighed deeply. He cracked his knuckles in irritation. ¡°Just open your menu, your whole menu, and then drag the whole thing over to me. I¡¯ll have temporary viewing access until you close it.¡± I did. Soon, Apache was flicking and scrolling through my menu. I could see faint light reflected in his eyes. Just then, I felt very, very naked. Exposed. Like my torso had been split open and this stranger was peering into my guts. ¡°How¡¯s this? I¡¯ll give you your six missing Hellhound fragments, and I¡¯ll toss in a Schema for that coco de mer nut you have.¡± With ten fragments I could forge a complete card. What does a Hellhound data card do? ¡°You can fuse it on a weapon or armor. Either add fire damage or add fire resistance. You can¡¯t fuse onto your {basic} push dagger, of course. And your armor is shot to hell. Is it a deal?¡± Camel straightened up again and held out his hands, cigarette dangling from his lips. He shook his head in protest. ¡°No, no, no. No deal. Hellhounds are hound-and-horny. They¡¯re a dime a dozen out there. A few hound-and-horny fragments ain¡¯t worth an intact Rare card. And my droogie can discover crafting recipes on their own.¡± I listened carefully to Camel and nodded. I appreciated that he was looking out for me. I closed my menu, having had enough of Apache¡¯s prying eyes. Through some effort, I could probably gather the remaining fragments I would need for a complete Hellhound data card. I could also discover through trial and error more crafting Schemas for the items I had on me. Maybe. ¡°Name your price then. What will you accept in exchange for that Clurichaun card? I¡¯ve got plenty of things that might interest a rookie like you.¡± Interlude - [Non-LitRPG Reading Recommendations for fans of Metaverse Mythhunter] If you enjoy the atmosphere, content, or writing style of Metaverse Mythhunter, here are some non-LitRPG reading recommendations: All Systems Red (Martha Wells) - Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World (Haruki Murakami) - The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Blood Meridian (Cormac McCarthy) - Snow Crash (Neal Stephenson) - In a future Los Angeles divided into private corporate franchises, A Clockwork Orange (Anthony Burgess) - 17 - Modification Chapter 17 - Modification Thanks but no thanks. I¡¯m going to hold on to my data card for now. But I will accept 100 Crypt for wasting my time. I grinned at Apache and dematerialized the Rare card. The tall man registered the briefest look of shock, then swung on me. I flinched. The sharp tips of his spiked knuckles hovered half an inch from my face, then slowly retracted. Apache let out a low chuckle. ¡°You¡¯ve got spunk, rookie. I¡¯ll give you that.¡± Apache turned his back, then hesitated. He opened his menu and dragged something ephemeral through the air in my direction. As a reflex, I reached for it. [You received 100 Crypt] ¡°Don¡¯t spend it all in one place. Now get out of here before I beat your arse.¡± Meanwhile, Camel had nearly dropped his empty glass in surprise. To be honest, I surprised myself. I was thankful not to be spitting out teeth just then. ¡°You got some bolshy balls to be teasing a top-tier hunter like that. Sorry. Figure of speech. What got into you?¡± I don¡¯t know. I just had a feeling that turning down the trade was the right thing to do. Call it an instinct. Camel just shook his head. The caged deathmatch over, this backroom of the Rathskeller had reverted to a den of shady deals. Volunteers were making swaps all over the place. I guess everything had a price and almost anything else could be considered a legitimate form of payment if you wanted it badly enough. Something about avoiding taxes or system oversight? ¡°Did you make a decision about stashing your pretty polly? What are you ittying to do?¡± I¡¯m ¡®ittying¡¯ to look into the body modification options you mentioned. Supply Depot, right? Getting a computer chip installed in my neck isn¡¯t the most natural thing, but then again, literally nothing about this place seems natural. ¡°The starry slice and dice. Better you than me.¡± Really? No surgery for you? No improving on Mother Nature? Camel smiled that gap-toothed smile once more. The skin beneath the missing patches of scraggly beard shone under the black lights. His eyes swam in his head, unfocused, and he spread his scrawny arms wide in an awkward pose. ¡°You can¡¯t improve on perfection!¡± I took my bag of baubles and departed, passing through the hidden door and back through the Rathskeller proper. Drinking and dancing continued as ever under oppressively loud music. As I passed by the vacant Round Table in the center of the drinking hall, I wondered if I had or ever would have what it takes to join that vaunted few. Apache said the final step of the audition process was to challenge and defeat a member of your choice in mortal combat. I wondered what the first step was. Outside amidst the dark streets once more, I hurried across town to the Supply Depot. Passing by the vicinity of the Bounty Boards, I remained vigilant for any sightings of the ¡®cobras¡¯ or ¡®serpents¡¯ - whoever they were. No signs of them. Good. I didn¡¯t like the idea of having to watch my back for the rest of my second life. I needed to get stronger. I ducked into the Supply Depot, eyeing the dazzling aisles of wares and a smattering of Volunteers I didn¡¯t recognize. I nodded politely to the elderly woman sitting behind the counter. She smiled back at me, crescent earrings dangling from her lobes. Any rain in the forecast? She raised a wrinkled hand as if to test the air. ¡°Oh ho ho. Not yet, dear. You still have quite some time.¡± I gestured to the spiral staircase leading down to the sublevel. Body modification. ¡°You go right ahead.¡± I descended onto the black slate floor and scanned my number under the red light sensor. I saw my avatar again displayed large, rotating lifelessly on the central screen, splayed like some cadaver about to be autopsied. I accessed the leftmost body modification panel. Curious, I began to scroll through the available options. The more I searched, the more ways I saw in which I could alter my avatar, and preview the outcome on the central screen. Taller. Shorter. Thinner. Thicker. Eye color. Lip thickness. Jaw width. Chin depth. Voice. Genitals. All with a price, of course. The list went on and on. Finally, I came across a sub-menu called Advanced Body Modification. There was a list of surgical procedures and associated artificial limbs, implants, biomechanical upgrades. Things I had never heard of before. Eye implants. Brain jacks. The list went on. I surmised that there were improvements I could make to my avatar through cold, hard Crypt that otherwise would require upgrades using Crystals. Different paths to self-improvement. [Neural Integration Procedure - Axis Port Installation: One-time surgical procedure to install a port in the back of the neck at the base of the skull for neural-interfacing chip access. Cost: 1,000 Crypt] Okay, that is what Camel had mentioned. And where would I acquire the chips to insert into said port? Ah, there they were. They started at 1,000 Crypt and skyrocketed from there. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. [B3-9S7-C10K Neural-interfacing chip designed for minimal Crypt storage. Storage: 10,000 Crypt Cost: 1,000 Crypt - B3-9S7-C100K Neural-interfacing chip designed for moderate Crypt storage. Storage: 100,000 Crypt Cost: 10,000 Crypt Alert: You do not have the required minimum Protocol for this device. - B3-9S7-C1M Neural-interfacing chip designed for advanced Crypt storage. Storage: 1,000,000 Crypt Cost: 100,000 Crypt Alert: You do not have the required minimum Protocol for this device.] The concept of having 1,000,000 Crypt at my disposal made me salivate ever so slightly. Maybe someday. For now, I could only afford the C10K model. Also, it was the only one that did not appear to have a minimum Protocol requirement. Protocol. Huh. I had barely put any thought into that Statistical category so far, except recalling that it improved my ability to craft materials at the Forge. I was now starting to see the potential appeal of using the Repository. If I kept chasing bigger bounties, I would eventually max out the chip¡¯s storage space. Still, it was a one-time cost and portable. I wondered if I could have multiple ports installed, and carry multiple chips at a time. Would there be Protocol requirements for that as well? Maybe something to ask at the Information Kiosk or a Volunteer that spoke in language I could actually understand without some Metaverse slang dictionary. I decided to bite the proverbial bullet and go for the bod mod surgery and the B3-9S7-C10K chip. Losing 2,000 Crypt would hurt, but I needed to make long term investments. I soon found out that losing 2,000 Crypt would not hurt nearly as much as the operation. [Neural Integration Procedure - Axis Port Installation) selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to apply this change?] Yes¡­? Round apertures in the previously featureless black floor opened, and two narrow pedestals shot upwards. The top of each pedestal glowed white, indicating a spot to rest my hands. I carefully placed my bag on the ground and did so. My hands instantly clung tight to the bright surfaces. Please remain still. The operation will begin shortly. That cursed voice again. Saccharine and inauthentic. There was no backing out now. I realized my hands were completely immobilized. Frozen on the white hot light of the pedestals. I squirmed as a mechanical noise sounded from above. Metal claw-like appendages drooped down from the ceiling, encircling my head. They made a terrible clacking noise. I fought against the urge to duck my head, to try and escape. I had paid good money for this. One of the appendages rotated into place directly behind my head, hovering with a needle-like point above the small of my neck. Soon, a bright red laser shot out from the tip, cutting directly into my flesh. I could see it illustrated on the central screen in front of me, magnified. A blinding pain erupted. Frag, it hurts! Anesthesia is available for an additional charge of 2,000 Crypt. What?! You didn¡¯t mention anything about that before! Would you like to purchase anesthesia? Yes! Yes! I¡¯m sorry. Anesthesia is not available once the operation has begun. Please try again next time. Gaahhh!!! The pain continued as the laser sliced and penetrated deep into my flesh, my nerves, the top of my spinal column. Meanwhile, a burning, queasy sensation spread from the palms of my hands, up through my arms, and permeated my entire body. As if my DNA were being melted down and rewritten, or the digital version of DNA. The code that governed my avatar. My vision flickered and then everything was black. Bit by bit, my vision returned. The sound of mechanical arms retracting into the ceiling and I was slumping against the two pedestals, my hands still suctioned into place. A hissing sound, and my hands were free. I knelt to the ground and quickly examined my palms for signs of damage. But there were none. My flesh was spotless. The pain receded into non-reality. Operation successful. Neural-Interface Axis Port installed. I carefully reached up to touch the back of my hairless neck. There it was. Something hard and alien. Something that should never be part of a human body. It felt roughly the shape of a card reader slot on an ATM, but smaller. Congratulations, I now had a new orifice. An extra metal slit. I glared at the body modification and cosmetics panels, not that they did or could give a Shiva about me. Tapping the screen as aggressively as I could, I grudgingly purchased the B3-9S7-C10K chip and watched it materialize in my hand. It was a black and sleek rectangle, but when I turned it in the light it gave off a bronze glimmer. When I concentrated on the object the details emerged before my eyes, but nothing much more than I had already gleaned. There did not appear to be an up or down, front or back - no standard orientation - just the short edges and long edges. Here goes nothing. I lined up one narrow edge of the card and slowly inserted it into the slot at the base of my skull, half expecting to feel it pushing into my squishy brain stem or spine or something. But oddly, it felt good. Satisfying. An emptiness was being filled. I pressed it all the way in until it clicked, resting within my reconfigured body. A menu notification appeared before my eyes. [B3-9S7-C10K chip detected. Would you like to automatically transfer your Crypt?] Yes I would. I felt an internal woosh as digital bits streamed from one hidden part of myself to this newer addition. And strangely it felt like I could breathe easier, as if the change in storage had somehow translated to feeling less encumbered. Lighter. I had not noticed that sensation before. I untied my bag and quickly added my weapons back into my inventory, only keeping my 100 Crystals in the bag for now. I took a look at the top part of my Menu, then scrolled down to check my Economy and Memory submenus. [DESIGNATION ECONOMY MEMORY It appeared that the surgically-installed port created additional storage space that could only be filled by a neural-interface chip. In other words, the storage space of the port and the storage requirement of the chip canceled each other out, and did not impact my total available storage. What it did do was erase the storage impact of my remaining 3,000 Crypt. Next up, I needed to do some shopping. 17.1 I went upstairs and spent the next hour or so perusing the aisles of the Supply Depot. I assume it was an hour. I had no way of personally tracking time. My History submenu kept no record of it, and the permanent night of The Collective didn¡¯t help. Still, certain items and skills operated on a timer measured in seconds or minutes. Good old-fashioned human chronological measurements. The layout of goods was almost labyrinthine, or the display items changed with a frequency that I found myself getting turned around multiple times. The store was bursting at the seams with miscellaneous items. Some had no discernable purpose on their own. Certainly no practical purpose. Nostalgia items. Decorative items. Others presumably had a use or dual-use for crafting. I picked up another vial of pure water. That would run me 50 Crypt. I still had two fern flowers remaining, and only one other material to go with it. A swatch of white linen cloth. I had not discovered a Schema for the fern flower and white cloth, but I could attempt to combine them as well as forge another tincture using the fern flower and the pure water. The tall man, Apache, had offered to give me a Schema to craft something using my coco de mer nut. I wondered what other ways I might acquire Schemas beyond trial and error or some sort of info trade. After searching near the back of the store, I found some individual Schemas and collections of Schemas for sale. They appeared like floppy discs, suspended within tamper-proof containers of pale light. An example: [Item: Schema: Sleep Bomb (Series 1) Cost: 500 Description: A single use item that unlocks the Schemas for forging {common} and {uncommon} Sleep Bombs.] [Item: Common Item Forging (Vol. 1) Cost: 1,000 Crypt Description: A single use item that unlocks five {common} item forging Schemas, combining frequently encountered invasive flora materials with system materials. This volume has been synthesized from Volunteer field reports.] Volunteer field reports? Interesting. But I think I¡¯ll hold off for now. I wondered if any particular Volunteers in The Commons specialized in forging / crafting items. Might be worth looking into eventually. There were also the more obvious consumables for sale in the Supply Depot. Items designed specifically for Volunteers to assist them in their mission to eradicate all invasive entities from the face of The Collective. [Item: Regenerator Serum Quantity: 1 Cost: 200 Crypt Description: A one-time oral consumable that restores 10 Essence. Cannot exceed maximum Essence capacity. Size: 10 metabytes] [Item: Replenisher Injection Quantity: 1 Cost: 250 Crypt Description: A one-time intravenous consumable that restores 10 Energy. Cannot exceed maximum Energy capacity. Size: 10 metabytes] [Item: Stimulator Inhalant Quantity: 1 Cost: 350 Crypt Description: A one-time intranasal consumable that temporarily boosts total Speed by 30. Lasts for 30 minutes. Size: 10 metabytes] Also interesting. I didn¡¯t want to deplete my Crypt before having a chance to visit the Armory, so I made a mental note. There were similar items that addressed other Statistical categories, as well as more advanced versions of those items for much higher prices. Next I browsed various accessories. In the Supply Depot, there were only non-combat accessories, but many could still be useful in and out of bounty hunting contexts. [Accessory: Compact Flashlight Cost: 200 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: A small water-resistant flashlight with a beam throw of 200 meters and brightness of 47 lumen. Size: 10 metabytes] [Accessory: Headlamp Cost: 500 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: A portable 400 lumen light source worn on the head. Used for activities that require both hands such as night fishing and spelunking, or by professionals such as miners, mechanics, and surgeons. Size: 10 metabytes] There were even night vision goggles. I tried to compare all these with the ocular implants I had seen in the body modification menu for obtaining permanent low light or dark vision, not that I was itching to submit myself to another horrific surgical experience just then. There were also some items mixed in with these particular light-giving accessories. One I recognized as something used by Bigwig and Rook when they intervened in that nasty business with the Baskerville Hound. [Item: Phosphorescent Flare Cost: 100 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: A single-use item that illuminates a dark area with a persistent green glow for a variable amount of time. Size: 10 metabytes] The more I window shopped, the more I wanted to buy everything. But I had neither the storage space nor the Crypt. I needed to be smart about this. I wanted a buffer of remaining Crypt after my shopping spree. So I resisted any purchases beyond my single vial of pure water and paid at the front of the store. The elderly woman at the counter smiled at me as I finalized the exchange. I silently wondered what rationale was used in selecting the appearance of the vendors, assuming they were all bots programmed and placed to provide a relatable face and voice to our mundane transactions. But she was looking at me strangely. And I noticed in her dark eyes an unexpected depth, like the expanse of a night sky and the dark space beyond, pierced through with irregular pinpricks of cosmic light. I shivered, politely thanked her, and left for the Armory. I could feel her eyes following me out the door. I now had 2,950 Crypt. Back in the hubbub of the Armory, I moved from display case to display case, looking for the {uncommon} Tactical Jacket I had previously seen but had been out of my price range at the time. I didn¡¯t see it. Next, I accessed the nearby vending kiosk, scrolling through the options. Again, I didn¡¯t see it. Dram. I recalled that the items available for purchase rotate. This was probably to create a sense of urgency in the customer. Panic buying. False scarcity. But wait¡­ didn¡¯t I place a deposit on the jacket? I opened my History submenu and rapidly scrolled down through the record of my actions. Eventually, I found it. HISTORY ¡­¡­¡­¡­.. ¡­¡­¡­¡­.. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. I got the attention of the militaristic vendor bot, Colonel Peacekeeper, when it was done assisting another Volunteer. Excuse me, do you know when the Tactical Jacket will be back in stock? ¡°Colonel Peacekeeper at your service! I hope you are having a FUBAR day, soldier!¡± Right. About the Tactical Jacket. I put down a 20 Crypt deposit on it last time I was in here. But I can¡¯t find it listed. ¡°It has been pulled from rotation! But if you have a deposit, I can bring it up for you.¡± Peacekeeper raised a green metal finger and opened a shimmering menu in the air between us. There it was. I reached out, highlighting the item on the screen to bring up the details. [Armor: Tactical jacket Armor Type: Body Cost: 2000 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Uncommon Defense Output: 30 Details: A type of jacket designed for use in military, law enforcement, and other tactical situations. Made from durable materials and features a variety of pockets and compartments for storing gear. Also features reinforced elbows and shoulders, and VELCRO patches for attaching morale patches or identification. Properties: Storing - when equipped, this armor increases memory space by 20 metabytes. Size: 30 metabytes] Dram. Back up to 2,000 Crypt. Or 1,980 minus my deposit. Hmmm. ¡°Soldier! If the price discourages you, might I recommend a special sale we have going on right now!¡± What is it? Colonel Peacekeeper minimized the first menu and brought up three screens. Each screen showcased a rotating piece of black clothing or equipment. One looked like a bulletproof vest, the other a pair of black cargo pants, and the other a heavy pair of work boots or mid-ankle combat boots. I accessed the details of each in turn. [Armor: Ballistic Vest Armor Type: Body Cost: 1000 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Common Defense Output: 20 Details: A simple bullet-resistant vest, a piece of personal protective equipment designed to protect the torso from bullets or other projectiles. This ¡®soft¡¯ vest is composed of multiple layers of strong fibers, designed to catch and deform a bullet, spreading its force over a larger area. Warning: even more advanced bulletproof vests can be penetrated by certain types of projectiles, such as armor-piercing bullets. Size: 10 metabytes] [Armor: Tactical Pants Armor Type: Legs Cost: 500 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Common Defense Output: 10 Details: Durable and functional pants designed for use in military, law enforcement, and other tactical situations. Made from ripstop fabric that is resistant to tearing and abrasion. Tactical pants also have a number of features that make them suitable for tactical use, such as multiple pockets and reinforced seams. Properties: Storing - when equipped, this armor increases storage space by 20 metabytes. Size: 10 metabytes] [Armor: Tactical Boots Armor Type: Legs Cost: 200 Crypt Frequency: Basic Defense Output: 10 Details: Heavy-duty shoes designed for operations performed by law enforcement professionals, military service members, or other professions. They have sturdy uppers that provide extra stability around the ankles and help protect the wearer from sharp objects and protrusions. Properties: Armor has the ¡®Basic¡¯ property and cannot be upgraded, enhanced, or exported. Size: 10 metabytes] Something within me hesitated at the mention of ¡®law enforcement.¡¯ I wondered why. Perhaps being a bounty hunter was a type of law enforcement after all, that is, if somebody passed a law outlawing drunk Clurichauns and unsecured Hellhounds. Regardless, I needed to improve my defense. There had been too many close calls. Interesting. What is the special sale? Are these items usually more expensive? ¡°If you buy all three, you will get a 10% discount on the total price! Hooah!¡± Even though the Tactical Jacket is not part of the current rotation, could I substitute it for the Ballistic Vest and get the same 10% of deal for purchasing all three? The vendor was silent, incongruous powdered wig immobile, invisible programming grinding away somewhere in its processing unit. ¡°Negative soldier! Regulations prohibit off-rotation items from being part of current sales promotions!¡± Ugh. Fine. Give me those three items and three .32 caliber bullets. Also, can I get my 20 Crypt deposit back? "No refunds! However, you can apply your deposit to a different purchase here in the Armory!" What would be my total then? ¡°Those three pieces of armor bring your total to 1,700 Crypt, minus 10%, equals 1,530. Plus 30 Crypt for three .32 caliber bullets, less 20 Crypt from deposit. That will be 1,540 for everything!¡± Okay. Let¡¯s do this. [Ballistic Vest selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this armor?] Yes. [Would you like to unequip {damaged} Black Coveralls?] Sure. [Tactical Pants selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this armor?] Yes. [Tactical Boots selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this armor?] Yes again. [Would you like to unequip Basic Footwear?] Okay. With each change, my outward appearance instantly shifted. A trick of the light, a blink of the eye, and my avatar was now equipped with black, heavy duty cargo pants, matching black boots with thick tread, and a black bulletproof vest slung over my white promotional t-shirt. I was 1,540 Crypt poorer. But my total armor was now 40. And my soft storage cap was raised by 20. Also, my revolver¡¯s chamber was once again full. I see that each piece of armor and my snubnosed revolver are Level 1 of 10. What does that mean? ¡°You can upgrade your weapons and armor, of course! Not {basic}, but anything with a frequency of {common} or above can be upgraded to Level 10. For a fee! It is a service we are happy to provide here at the Armory for our brave fighting men and women!¡± Good to know. What does upgrading a weapon or piece of armor do, exactly? ¡°Take your sidearm. It has a damage output of 20. If you upgrade that gun to Level 10, you could reach a maximum damage output of 200! That¡¯s some serious firepower!¡± Wow. Would anything else about the weapon be improved besides the total damage? ¡°Not a chance!¡± Ah. I assume the story is the same with my armor. ¡°That¡¯s right, soldier! You could upgrade your Tactical Pants to Level 10, increasing its defense output from 10 all the way up to a maximum of 100! The added storage would not change!¡± I understand. Very straightforward and mathematical. One last question. What can I do with old armor or clothing I don¡¯t want anymore? ¡°You can try and sell unused items at the Volunteer Auction House next door. Auctions are for valuable items - not damaged, generic, or starter kit. Or, you can practice data recycling!¡± Data recycling? The robotic vendor stretched a green metal finger out and indicated a tall metallic cylindrical receptacle in the corner of the room. It had an elongated triangle on top outlined in glowing pink. Come to think of it, I had seen this contraption elsewhere around The Collective but had not paid much attention. ¡°Drop your unwanted gear down the Memory Hole and you¡¯ll be fairly compensated for its value! Your old underwear can be tomorrow¡¯s grenade! That out-of-fashion corset can be refashioned as a machete!¡± Interesting. I¡¯ll give it a look. The over-the-top vendor gave a sharp salute before turning to the next Volunteer waiting for its attention. ¡°Dismissed!¡± Holding onto my precious bag of Crystals with one hand, I removed the damaged black coveralls and cosmetic basic footwear from my inventory, materializing them into my free hand. I went over to the ¡®memory hole¡¯. It looked like a fancy trashcan emerging seamlessly from the ground. A tube leading to know who¡¯s where. There was a small red light on the side, and I scanned my identifier code. The pink triangle lit up a bright cyan, the opening dark and deep as a black hole. I tentatively dropped the damaged coveralls and footwear in. Better to hold onto my t-shirt for now. It was a gift. At the very least I could return it to Camel. The items were sucked into the blackness with a vacuum-like sound. I imagined bits of data being ripped apart. Snippets of code torn asunder, sucked away to be repurposed elsewhere in the Metaverse. Ones and zeroes. The basic building blocks of my reality. But then something awful happened. I hadn¡¯t thought this through. When I recycled the black coveralls, the torn piece of material I had used to fashion my carrying bag dissolved into nothingness too, sucked into the hole. 100 Crystals hung in the air for a nanosecond before spilling all over the floor of the Armory. Every Volunteer in the place froze, turning to stare as I scrambled on my hands and knees, lunging and scooping up the loose Crystals into a tinkling mound. I glared, feral like an animal, daring anybody to try and snatch one of my precious shining gems. And you could tell a few were tempted. Meanwhile, an electronic dinging noise like a slot machine or cash-register chimed. A notification flashed before my eyes. [You received 20 Crypt. Thank you for recycling unused data!] Thinking fast, I unequipped my promotional t-shirt and tied the fabric into a new carrying bag. The Crystals barely fit in, threatening to spill out of the gappy sleeves. I quickly glanced at my Menu. My remaining 1,430 Crypt was safely stored on the B3-9S7-C10K chip slotted into the back of my neck, and even with my new armor I remained under my now expanded soft storage cap. Next stop, the Data Forge. It was past time to spend these Crystals. 17.2 (+ stat-investing decision point!) I walked to the Data Forge, lugging my precarious bundle. No sign of goons waiting to jump me. However, unknown to me at the time, two small eyes, shining in the dark, tracked me as I crossed through the perpetual night of the city. I passed under the crossed red blacksmith hammers and into the churning structure of the Forge. I then approached the forging station in the center of the room and scanned my code. The heavy metal door sealed me in. Blasts of hot steam vented on either side as the strange machinery labored unabated. The panel lit up, listing my options. [DATA FORGE CONVERT FORGE FUSE EXPORT TRANSMUTE] I selected each option on the screen to access the more detailed descriptions of each action. [DATA FORGE CONVERT (Crystals into Value) FORGE FUSE EXPORT (transform one type of item, weapon, or armor to another type) TRANSMUTE (transform the cosmetic appearance of an item, weapon, or armor)] I knew my rare Clurichaun data card was valuable. So valuable that a member of the elite Round Table wanted it. Or at least it conferred a useful skill. I did not know how long it would be before I might stumble across another intact data card of this frequency. I materialized the card in my free hand and concentrated on the details. [Data Card: Clurichaun Card Type: Skill Frequency: Rare Skill Details: Project an illusory image of yourself anywhere within 30 feet. Illusion lasts 30 seconds. Skill takes 30 seconds to recharge after the image fades. Interacting with the image will not dispel it. Skill Cost: 30 Energy Size: 10 metabytes] It was a ¡®skill¡¯ card, meaning I could Fuse it onto an open skill slot here at the Data Forge. Camel had said that Volunteers had four skill slots as a default. I had no way of accessing or viewing anything about skill slots in my menu or any of my submenus at present. I suppose I had to take that on faith. Was there a way to unfuse a skill? Or would this be a permanent change? Maybe such an option only appeared on the Forge¡¯s menu if you had skills, and I was skill-less. This particular skill required 30 Energy to use. I only had 10. That means I would need to first convert Crystals into Value, assign that Value to Energy, and then Fuse the skill card. I recalled from my previous visit to the Data Forge that increasing from 10 to 20 in any Statistical category would cost 10 Value, but increasing from 20 to 30 would cost 20 Value, and so on. I would need to convert 30 Crystals and assign that Value to reach 30 Energy. I was using 229 out of 230 metabytes of storage (250 including my soft cap increase). Increasing Energy by 20 value would take up 249 out of 250 max storage. Every change, every bit of data added to myself required space. Unfortunately, I would need to increase my storage to handle any additional upgrades. I had forgotten that Value converted directly to storage without a stepped increase, in contrast to my core stats. Additionally, after confirming through the Forge menu, I saw it would cost 10 Crystals to Fuse the data card. So 40 Crystals total to fuse and use the skill. A steep cost. Still, this skill might save my life. And the increased Energy would be useful for any other skills I acquired in the future. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I decided to convert 90 Crystals to Value and reserve 10 to Fuse the skill card. Forging additional items with my crafting materials could wait until next pay day. I selected the Convert option and one of the podiums sprouting from the forging station began glowing as before. [Deposit Crystals for Conversion] I unwrapped my bundle and carefully counted out 90 Crystals into the indentation, watching them clink and glimmer as they settled. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. [Begin Conversion process?] Yes. The Crystals vibrated and hummed, cracking and spilling light as the machinery of the Forge worked its electronic alchemy. The digitized double-helix sculpture in the middle of the forging station poured forth blinding rays until at last beautiful motes of potential circling above the central pedestal shot into me. I was filled with charge and warmed to the core. I checked my menu to confirm what I already knew. [UNASSIGNED VALUE: 90] I transferred 30 Value to increase my total Energy from 10 to 30. This was a sensation hard to describe. Although I did not experience hunger or thirst in this world, sense memories of whatever previous life I must have lived remained at the edges of my consciousness. I could recall what it meant to feel hungry, and alternately full. I could recall what it meant to feel thirsty, and alternately satiated. I could even remember what it felt like to burn with other types of unfulfilled desires, and the soul-deep feeling of resolution after satisfying those desires. Having unspent Energy was like that. An instinctual sensuality to be expended. A need to be expressed. A sort of heady biochemical stamina oscillating within my center. Having possessed 10 Energy since my awakening in The Collective, I realized that feeling had always been there, lingering in the background. The sudden boost amplified that tingling. Perhaps it would again fade into the background with prolonged familiarity. Next, I accessed the Fuse option on the panel, followed by the Skill suboption. [Insert a Data Card in the indicated depository] One of the station¡¯s branching devices glowed. I placed the data card on the podium and watched it hover there, slowly rotating in place. [Rare Data Card - Clurichaun (Skill) detected] [Deposit Crystals for Fusing] I poured the final 10 Crystals onto the other glowing receptacle. Then, I dematerialized the promotional t-shirt and re-equipped it, making sure it was layered beneath my ballistic vest. Two white handprint patterns appeared on the surface of the third podium of the clover-like station, indicating where to rest my palms. Great. The last time I placed my hands on something like this it triggered an unspeakably excruciating experience. However, I did as prompted. [Begin Fusing process?] My body is ready. The palms of my hands glowed white hot, spreading up through my wrists and forearms. It burned, as if my arms were submerged in scalding water, but was not accompanied by the same queasy sensation I experienced during the body modification surgery. I watched as the data card dissolved into quantum foam. The Crystals were consumed by the machine. A wispy, purple effervescence shrouded my body. Illusory vapor drifted across my skin, pooling and swirling until it sucked into my solar plexus. The haunting image of the fae creature¡¯s visage flashed in my mind¡¯s eye for an instant. I let out an involuntary gasp. [Skill Fusing successful. Clurichaun skill fused to open skill slot. 1 / 4 skill slots assigned.] As if unlocking a new part of my mind, I could suddenly visualize four cubes within me. They were arrayed like a cross, or, alternatively, an X across heretofore unknown power centers. I closed my eyes, concentrating on shuffling and rearranging these invisible cubes hanging on some other plane of my being. Three of the boxes were empty, charcoal gray and dim. One possessed the power of the data card I had absorbed. A power I could now summon and use through a sheer act of will. I opened my menu and saw a brand new category listed beneath my Statistics. [SKILLS I wanted to practice using this new skill. But I knew I could only replenish spent Energy by resting during a Cycle change or using an applicable consumable, of which I had none. Skill practice would be time consuming and resource draining. I thought of the infinite ammunition available at the Armory¡¯s shooting range. Did something equivalent to that exist for testing out skills? Something to look into. For now, I still had 60 unassigned Value. I needed to decide which Statistical categories to boost. Increasing a stat from 10 to 20 would cost 10 Value, but increasing from 20 to 30 would cost 20, and so on. Or I could sink it all into expanding my storage. I checked my current Stats: [STATISTICS MEMORY I reflected on my accumulated knowledge related to these obtuse categories. I knew that Strength modified my use of melee weapons, that Accuracy modified my use of ranged weapons, and that both together modified my use of thrown weapons. There might even be Strength or Accuracy requirements for using certain weapons. I knew that Essence was more or less the life force of my avatar. Resistance was a sort of ingrown defensive layer or hardiness, similar to the defense output ratings of my armor. But did it modify the use of my current armor in the same way strength and accuracy modified damage output? I also believed Resistance to have a protective quality against certain negative status ailments. Energy was the resource I needed to spend to be able to use my fused skills. Adeptness modified my use of those skills. But how? Would I be able to have an improved use of my Clurichaun skill with a higher Adeptness score? There might also be Adeptness requirements for using certain skills, as I had already encountered Protocol requirements elsewhere. Speed was self-explanatory. Agility had to do with reflexes and range of motion. I also recalled that use of traps, deployable items, or other types of devices would be modified by a combination of a Movement stat and a Processing stat, depending on the item itself. Finally, there was Perception, Persuasion, Protocol, and Probability. All important in their own ways. Ah, I was starting to get a headache thinking about all these things. 17.3 I knew I needed storage space. In the Volunteer economy of the Metaverse, at least as far as I had experienced, storage was the most limited and necessary commodity. No upgrade or enhancement was possible without it. I transferred 40 of my unassigned value straight into storage, boosting my core total to 270 (290 with my soft cap increase). I immediately felt somehow more expansive, even though the physical size and shape of my avatar was unchanged. Perhaps just an illusion, like sensing a phantom limb. But some sort of internal, invisible capacity had increased, and it felt good. Of course, I was now going to actively eat into that extra storage by sinking my last 20 unassigned value into my stats. My first choice was Accuracy. I wanted to be able to use my one and only ranged weapon more effectively. That left me with 10 value, which meant I could only afford to raise one additional stat from the baseline of 10 up to 20. I was torn between Adeptness, Agility, Perception and Probability. I could see how each would improve my chances of success. Chances of survival. Perception it is. I had been taken by surprise several times already, and it had nearly killed me. It wasn¡¯t much, but perhaps an extra 10 value would give me an edge. Finishing my business, I unlocked the metal door and exited the Data Forge, hustling the short distance to the Restoration Point towering over the center of The Commons. I was glad not to be carrying around an embarrassing self-made pouch of valuables. I approached the inverted, arching walls of the Restoration Point tower and stepped through the wide, open entryway. I located one of the empty, angled, translucent tubes and scanned by code on the panel. Welcome to the Restoration Point. Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 Your last backup was {1} cycle ago. Would you like to backup your data? Yes I would. 100 Crypt will be deducted. The round light on the panel shifted from red to white. Please enter the Restoration Station to backup your data. As before, I climbed onto the small platform and was raised up into the tube. I placed my arms and planted my feet in the indicated holders, stretched out. The Vitruvian Volunteer. I soon felt the hot beams of light penetrating every nanometer of my body, burning an image of my gestalt. Your data backup has been successfully completed. Climbing out of the tube, I checked the small screen on the nearby panel, reading the details of my backed up information. DESIGNATION STATISTICS Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS Interlude - [Character Sheet] (+reader survey) DESIGNATION STATISTICS SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 18 - Antisoc Chapter 18 - Antisoc Exiting the Restoration Point, I carefully stepped over the thick vine-like cables burying themselves below the grid surface. I approached the street, unsure of where to go next. I still had Crypt to spend but could just as easily catch another bounty. I was feeling confident. Energized. A deafening roar and flash of lights sent me back up on the curb as a trio of motorcycles blasted by. Elongated, plastic-sheened cycles careening around the circular hub of the tower and off around a corner in a blur. Gone from view, but their engines reverberated off the buildings of the sprawl. The cycles moved so fast I couldn¡¯t tell if they had actual tires or were somehow skimming above the ground. I took a moment to bring my pulse back to equilibrium. I hadn¡¯t seen any vehicles in this place besides Polizei drones circling overhead like vultures, the MAR bullet train, and that monorail snaking through the sundrenched skyscrapers of Royal Heights. Were those Volunteers out for a joy ride, or someone else? A couple other souls in the vicinity had turned to watch the cycles pass, but none seemed shocked by the sight. Strange. I made another attempt to cross, then froze. One foot on the curb, one foot in the road. Across, in the shadowy darkness of a sidestreet, two reflective eyes gazed unblinking in my direction. They were small. Nearly at ground level. Two glowing orbs in the night. Perhaps without my modest boost to Perception I wouldn¡¯t have noticed them at all. Cautiously, I materialized both my revolver and dagger. No more surprises, thank you very much. I continued crossing the street in the direction of those eyes. As I neared, my vision adjusted to the shaded contours and I saw that it was¡­ a cat. Aside from the arresting yellow eyes, its details were hard to make out clearly. Was it a black shorthair? The way the strange lights of the city played off its dark fur, it almost appeared to take on stripes at times. Come to think of it, I had nearly stepped on a cat when I had first arrived in The Commons. Could this be the same one? Here, pussycat. I dematerialized my weapons and stooped to scratch it behind the ears. It quickly darted out of my reach, scampering further down the way. I was about to shrug it off, but the cat stopped halfway down the sidestreet, turning to stare at me once more. There was something uncanny in that gaze. Are you looking at me? Why was I talking to a cat? This was absurd. Nevertheless, it paused expectantly, head turned over its shoulder to watch me with those glowing eyes. I took a testing stride toward it and it moved off again, pausing to regard me. Want some food? Or¡­ I don¡¯t have any food. Are you someone¡¯s pet? Are you lost? The cat merely stared, then continued its game of keep-away as I tried to close the gap. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Do you want me to follow you? At that, I could have sworn the cat flashed a mischievous grin. Impossible. But there it was. I couldn¡¯t imagine following this cat could lead to anything productive or, to be honest, non-horrific. But as I stated before, I was feeling confident. I had just backed up my data. What was the worst that could happen? If you are an invasive entity, I swear¡­ I began to quicken my pace. The cat darted from shadow to shadow until it reached the far end of the sidestreet. I followed, watching it casually lick its paw until I closed the distance. Then it was off again, crossing over to yet another street and turning, leading me down a minor maze of alleys and backways. Bright, often-animated billboards overhead lit our way. Special Bod Mod Offer - 15% off the Prince Albert and Hottentot Venus packages! Armory Deal - Buy Three Boxes of Ammo and Get One Free! - HURRY WHILE SUPPLIES LAST! Free Testing for Digital Syphilis and Rez Dependency at the Clinic with New Premium Membership - THIS CYCLE ONLY! KANA, KANA, KANA. HAKKLIHA! Get the MINCED CHICKEN you crave! Nostalgia Couriers will deliver delicious memories straight to your private domicile! Are you doing your part to make The Collective sustainable? Ask at the information kiosk about your nearest data recycling ports! Distracted for a moment by the barrage of promotions, I jogged around a corner to catch up, afraid I would lose track of the feline. I saw a bustling section lit by hanging lanterns and various neon signs. Volunteers bumped shoulders, passing between open air food stalls. Wait, I recognized this place. This was near where I had started. Where I had been unceremoniously spat out of the Orientation by the so-called Concierge. Where was the cat? There it was. Winding between the shifting legs of the small crowd. The people seemed unbothered or even oblivious. I hurried to keep up, pushing my way apologetically past the others. At last, I turned a final corner and found myself facing a dead end. A literal brick wall with little more than a rusty downspout for rain and a slash of graffiti. I had the cat cornered, not that such had been my intention. What now, kitty? With another eerie grin, the cat turned and walked straight through the brick wall. You¡¯ve got to be fragging me. I went to the place where the cat had been moments before and reached out. The wall felt solid to the touch. But as I pressed harder against the rough brick, something started to give. And I slipped through the facade and into total blackness. I was in some sort of stasis. I could see nothing, feel nothing, move nothing. It was like the sterile light of my first awakening, but inverted. A total empty void. Had I stumbled foolishly into a trap laid by that serpent gang? Then - three massive faces appeared in the darkness, impossibly large in my field of vision. They appeared to be humanoid, but constantly glitching. Just when you thought you could make out a distinct feature, that piece of the image shifted. A patchwork quilt of compression artifacts. I heard a heavily distorted electronic voice make a comment, but not directed to me. >CHESHIRE PROTOCOL SUCCESSFUL. GOOD BOY, SCHR?DINGER< What!? What is this? Who are you? A chorus of booming, vocoder synthesized voices responded in deafening unison. >WE ARE ANTISOC< >THAT IS NOT THE IMPORTANT QUERY< >THE IMPORTANT QUERY IS WHO, OR WHAT, ARE YOU?< 18.1 Huh? >WE SPOOFED YOUR AVATAR SIGNATURE AND YOU ARE IN A SHIELDED AREA. IF YOU TRY TO SIGNAL FOR HELP, NO ONE IS COMING< >ATTEMPT TO ACTIVATE ANY COUNTERMEASURES AND YOU WILL BE FLATLINED< What?! >LISTEN TO THE FOLLOWING PROPOSITIONS< >ONE CAN NEVER TRULY REACH ONE¡¯S DESTINATION. NO MATTER HOW CLOSE ONE GETS, THERE REMAINS AN INFINITELY SMALL DISTANCE BETWEEN ONE AND ONE¡¯S OBJECTIVE. PRESENCE IS IMPOSSIBLE< Okay¡­ >IN ORDER TO KNOW SOMETHING, ONE MUST FIRST KNOW THAT ONE KNOWS IT. HOWEVER, IF ONE KNOWS SOMETHING, THEN ONE MUST ALSO THEREFORE KNOW THAT ONE KNOWS THAT ONE KNOWS IT, AN INFINITE REGRESS. KNOWLEDGE IS IMPOSSIBLE< What? >THIS SENTENCE IS FALSE. TRUTH IS IMPOSSIBLE< ¡­ >ACCESSING ID 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 MENU< >ACCESSING ID 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 HISTORY< I saw my personal menu being forcibly pried open. A glowing screen ripped from my unseen substance and spread wide before the leering eyes of the glitching faces. My entire history since awakening was being scrolled through and picked apart. Hey! What are you doing? I do not consent to this! >WHO ARE YOU?< Me? I¡¯m just a Volunteer! >ARE YOU WORKING FOR COLSEC?< What? >WE ASK AGAIN. ARE YOU UNDER THE EMPLOY OF COLSEC?< ¡®Coal Seck?¡¯ I don¡¯t even know what that is! Please, I¡¯m just a Volunteer! A nobody! There was silence from the three large faces, but I saw the reverse image of my menu screen, my inventory, my stats, everything being examined at a rapid pace. >YOUR HISTORY DOES APPEAR TO INDICATE A ROUTINE VOLUNTEER ONBOARDING PROCESS. BUT THAT MAY BE PART OF THE DECEPTION< Suddenly, the three faces diminished somewhat in size. The loud booming voices grew more subdued and conversant. I realized the three images were debating with one another in a coded distortion. I could do nothing but helplessly wait, suspended and depersonalized. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. At length, the central floating face addressed me once more, shifting and glitching illusively. >You came to our notice quite by accident. But ever since then we have been watching you. If you are a regular Volunteer, how do you explain the bonus you received in your orientation of 10 additional metabytes of storage?< I have no idea! I can¡¯t remember anything before my orientation. >A predictable answer. How do you explain the unusual energy signal we¡¯ve detected? Subtle but not subtle enough, if you know where to look. Q, what is the current number?< Another disembodied face responded. >230< I have no clue what you are talking about! Maybe you abducted the wrong Volunteer! Let me go! >No other Volunteer has given off a signal like this. Ever. There is something different about you. We suspect you are a plant from ColSec. Either a bot imitating a Volunteer or a Volunteer on ColSec¡¯s payroll< WHAT IS COL-SEC? >Don¡¯t play stupid. ColSec stands for Collective Security, of course< Who are they? Why would they want to pretend to be a Volunteer!? >To infiltrate our operation. The Stasi bots have been after us for a long time. But we are always one step ahead. And we intend to keep it that way< I swear that I don¡¯t know anything about that. You¡¯ve obviously read my entire history. I woke up in that orientation a few cycles ago. I am just a simple Volunteer trying to make my way in the Metaverse. And who are you? Anti-Soesh? Are you going to kill me? >We are Antisoc. Violence is not our method. Our weapons are information. Although we aren¡¯t above flatlining a threat to our operation or having our Volunteer friends do our dirty work for us< Next came some more side-talk between the three, although this time their speech was not encrypted. >Listen, Fawkes, this one seems to be telling the truth. I see nothing in their history that indicates any deviation from their presentation. Except for the unexplained energy signal, they appear average or worse from any other Volunteer< Wait, I¡¯ve heard of you. Once. Something about you shielding the Schwarzmarkt. Yes, that tall Round Table member with the spiked knuckles dropped your name. Apache! His name was Apache. >That¡¯s right. We provide many services for our friends on the Round Table and other Volunteers, although our aims diverge< At this, the three relaxed a little more, diminishing in size and volume, although their faces and voices remained distorted and my world remained shrouded by a black veil. I saw my menu close and return to some invisible place within me. They were apparently done violating my privacy. >If we misjudged you, we apologize. But you haven¡¯t been proven innocent by any means. Anything we choose to tell you, we only tell you because you will never see us again unless we allow it. We never use the same location twice. Your unique energy signal is highly suspicious. If you are what you say you are, you might consider taking a step to prove yourself< Uh. Who exactly are you and why would I want or need to prove myself? I still don¡¯t quite understand. >We are often called the Three Magi. We are the triumvirate of Antisoc, known by many names. But you can call us Fawkes, Tank Man, and Q< Fox? Tank¡­ man? >Antisoc is the group of Volunteers working to uncover the truth of this world. The nature of this reality - The Collective< I thought you said there was no truth. >That was merely a battery of paradoxes to probe if you were a bot. You seem to have passed. Although whether arriving at the knowledge of the truth is possible or not remains to be seen< I don¡¯t understand. What exactly are you trying to uncover? >The exact nature of The Collective, and the roles of Volunteers within it. As stated, information is our currency, our tools, our weapons, our battleground in this fight< Information. So you are¡­ hackers? >That is one way to put it< 18.2 You are attempting to hack this Metaverse, specifically the system that governs The Collective, from the inside? How did you learn to do that? >The simplest assumption is that we were hackers in our previous lives. Or knowledgeable about computer systems. Somehow the skills came naturally to each one of us. Skills that ColSec would rather us not put to use< You said you¡¯ve been watching me. There was this time I was in the firing range at the Armory. You¡¯ve read my history so you must know what I¡¯m talking about. I was in a shooting contest with another Volunteer. I was aiming my gun, and I felt something take control of my arms and hands. It felt like my body was being hijacked. Was that you? Did you all hack me? I made a shot I never would have been able to otherwise. >Why would we care about the outcome of some random shooting match? And even if we did, why would we choose to help you? No, that wasn¡¯t us. You hadn¡¯t even come to our attention at that point. But it is possible that you were acted on by an external force. There are powers at work in the Metaverse beyond what many perceive< Okay. This is a lot to take in. What have you all discovered so far? >Not so fast. If you want access to our information, if you want to be part of the solution, you will need to prove yourself. You will need to help us< Help you hack the system? I just want to fulfill my contract and get out of here. Go back to whatever home or life I¡¯m supposed to have in the real world. I am not trying to get a target on my back, although that seems to be what I am best at. >If you are truly a Volunteer, you should understand this. The System is rigged. They call us Volunteers, but not one of us is able to access the details of our contracts. During your orientation, you were told that ¡®dissociative amnesia is an uncommon reaction when entering The Collective.¡¯ The System lied to you, and is lying to us all. Not a single Volunteer awakens in The Collective with their autobiographical memories intact. And not a single Volunteer has since regained memories of their so-called previous life< Huh¡­ >Also, if the Corporation¡¯s true goal was to rid this virtual world of invasive entities, why would they not supply us with everything we need to accomplish the task? Why nickel and dime us, withholding weapons, materials, and powers that would help us to accomplish the supposed goal?< That¡¯s an interesting point. I¡¯ve been wondering about that myself¡­ >Every time Volunteers find a leg up, a way to exploit the system, the Corporation shuts it down with a patch. For a time, some Volunteers would dupe items by exploiting the Restoration system. The first response was to make Restoration prohibitively and progressively expensive, but some items were so valuable it would still be worth it to off yourself. The next patch, a big one, was to make every single item have a unique chain code. Now, if two items with identical chain codes are ever detected existing in the Metaverse simultaneously, one is instantly annihilated. Another popular exploit was Volunteers placing large deposits on expensive items they never intended to buy, using vendors as free banking services. That was squashed pretty quickly< This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Antisoc was making some strong arguments. I remembered a comment Camel once made to me, that ¡®the only [thing] Reality Inc. cares more about than having us clean up The Collective is making a profit.¡¯ But I was no hacker. I had no special talent with navigating computer systems and networks. At least, not that I was aware of. Tell me, is the Round Table part of this? What I mean to say is, are they involved in this resistance movement or whatever you call it? >If you truly are new to this world as you say, there is something you need to understand. There are different factions at play with very different goals. There are the so-called Citizens, of course, the one-percenters trying to live their Best Second Lives. We rarely deal with them directly. Then there is ColSec, made up of the Security bots, Polizei bots, and worst of all the Stasi bots, working to keep things under control but inexplicably incapable of suppressing the invasive entities< >But for us Volunteers, there are only three main factions. The rest are the unaffiliated plurality, blindly scraping along in a meager, cyclical existence< That about sums up my experience so far. You said three factions? >There is the Round Table. Elite warriors. The best of the best. Their goal is to WIN the game. They naively think there is a way out of this place, that they can truly rid the Metaverse of all invasive entities and fulfill their contracts. The problem is, as we stated before, the System is rigged. They disagree. You might say they¡¯re optimists< >The next group are the Serpents. They have been called different things over time. The Serpent Society. Children of the Serpents. The Family. More of a religious cult than a gang. Their goal is to RULE the game. We see you have already had a few encounters with them. Their leader is a man called Schl?chter. You should avoid him at all costs< Why is that? >Schl?chter is a very dangerous man. A man of enormous appetites. He would just as soon snap your neck as sodomize you. His second, Ishmael, is not so nice either< Shiva¡­ >Then there is us. Antisoc. Our goal is to HACK the game. To exploit the glitches and vulnerabilities within the System and tear the veil off this corrupt world< >So there you have it. Three factions, all with different ideas of how to achieve salvation< Salvation? Now you are the ones sounding religious. >Not at all. Salvation can mean many things, including liberation from ignorance or illusion, preservation from destruction, or deliverance from slavery. If you want to be an ally of our cause, you will need to prove yourself. That is, if you ever want to find out who you really are< 18.3 I do want to find out who I am. What is it you want me to do? >You will help us rob a bank< WHAT? >You will help us execute a heist at the Repository. We don¡¯t take bounties, so we need to acquire Crypt through other methods. Often that means providing Volunteers with special services. However, we have a plan that will keep our critical work funded for many cycles to come. There is risk involved, but helping us will go a long way toward resolving our suspicions of you. And, in exchange, we will share some of our knowledge< Umm¡­ >It isn¡¯t your money, and it isn¡¯t Volunteer money. It is Corporate money we are targeting. For the good of all Volunteers< ¡­ >You don¡¯t have to decide now. In fact, it is better that you don¡¯t. We will create a special shielded category in your menu. A place to track subroutines hidden from system detection< I saw my menu opened again, overwhelmingly bright in the darkness, and watched it automatically scroll down to the bottom. A new submenu option had appeared. [DESIGNATION STATISTICS SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS >SUBROUTINES] As I helplessly observed this insertion, the submenu opened and a new task was added. The details were typed in before my eyes in real time. [>SUBROUTINES >You can make any notes or edits to information in your subroutines as you see fit. It will be invisible to any outside observer, including us once we boot you from this pocket server instance. Just one of many services we can provide to Volunteers< I definitely need some time to think about this. How do I get in touch with you if I decide to help? >There is a modest yokocho in the vicinity of The Commons spawn point for new Volunteers. It has no name, but you will see a simple neon blue sign. The kanji for fish in a closed circle. Order the fugu. If we discover or suspect that you are collaborating with ColSec, eating the dish will flatline you. But if we trust you, Schr?dinger will guide you to us< Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. With no sense of my appendages in this dark limbo, I tried to mentally type notes beneath my new subroutine. Spawn point. Fugu. Schr?dinger. It wasn¡¯t working. I would have to try and recall the information and attempt to type it in manually later. >Goodbye for now, Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. We will be watching< The floating faces of the Three Magi vanished from sight. Slowly, the darkness faded and my normal visualization returned. I found myself standing in the alleyway¡¯s dead end, staring at the brick wall. What? I reached out to probe the wall. It was solid all the way through. No matter how hard I pressed or where, it was nothing but a brick wall at the ugly end of an alley. I quickly opened my menu and searched my history. There was no mention of Antisoc. No record of a cat. Just me wandering the streets of The Commons and then, apparently, standing silently and staring at a blank wall for an unknown length of time. I must have looked crazy to any passerby, had there been one. The concept ¡®away from keyboard¡¯ popped into my mind. However, the Subroutines category remained. It had actually happened, and a subversive change to my menu was proof, albeit only to me. I gave up on the wall and walked back to the rows of food stalls. The bustling Volunteers paid no notice of me, as usual. I looked around for the yokocho with a blue sign, but didn¡¯t immediately find it. I needed to think. I grabbed a stool at the nearest hole-in-the-wall drinking establishment and signaled for the vendor. ¡°Irasshaimase!¡± On a whim I ordered warm sak¨¦ and soon had a ceramic spouted vessel and handleless cup set before me. The only other Volunteer at this particular bar slid one stool further away from me, pulling down the brim of a dark brown cowboy hat and muttering. I poured myself one and slowly nursed the drink, appreciating the taste and the warmth against my lips and throat but feeling no alcoholic effect beyond what I attributed to a strong placebo. All the comforts of domy. There were a lot of conflicting thoughts swimming around in my head. Antisoc. They said they suspected me of being a plant or ColSec collaborator primarily because of a strange energy signal, something that they had detected from no other Volunteer. But no matter how hard I searched through every cavity and crevice of my descending submenus, I could find no reference to such a signal. Were they lying to me, or did such a signal exist? Further, if Antisoc had truly suspected me of being their enemy, why would they reveal themselves? Why not remain hidden? It made no sense. By the time I had moved on to my third cup, I had come up with three possible explanations. One, they had never suspected me at all and were trying to manipulate me into participating in an illegal and risky operation. Maybe they wanted to use me as a patsy. But that didn¡¯t make sense either. Why would they want to burn a fellow Volunteer? Wouldn¡¯t that make Volunteers turn against them and possibly go to ColSec in revenge? Was I so insignificant that having me take the fall would be worth the minimal exposure? Explanation Two, they wanted to confirm whether or not I was a bot or double-agent, which they could only do by trapping me and peeping into my history and menus. If they had been proven right, perhaps they could have eliminated the threat to their operation then and there. They had mentioned something about not being able to call for help, for reprisals if I tried to use countermeasures. They kept using the term flatline. But if they killed me, wouldn''t I just respawn at the Restoration Point? Perhaps they had the ability to disable, incapacitate, or otherwise delete a threat in a more permanent way. Explanation Three, and most chilling, Antisoc didn¡¯t exist. This was actually an elaborate sting operation originated by ColSec. An entrapment scheme to weed out Volunteers not playing by the rules of the system. Great. Was paranoia going to be added alongside dissociative amnesia to my growing list of psychiatric complaints? I ordered more sak¨¦. A shame I couldn¡¯t get drunk. Probably would need body modification surgery to allow my avatar to absorb and distribute this virtual alcohol. And that, most fragging likely, would cost a small fortune. For now, dropping 30 Crypt in this izakaya seemed worth it to feel just a little more human. 19 - Factions Chapter 19 - Factions Regrettably sober, I wandered back in the direction of the Residential Towers. I wanted to be alone, even if that meant crawling into my empty little tube and dwelling on what had transpired. This world was an assault on the senses. Information overload. I needed more time to process. I reached the concrete quad creeping beneath the overhangs of the khrushchevka-style high rises. I watched a few anonymous Volunteers riding the cage elevators up until the bleak buildings swallowed them. I had an idea. Before I retired, I should test out my new skill. Stepping into the center of the gloomy quad, towering buildings surrounding me and only pale street lights illuminating the hard ground, I took a deep breath. No eyes were watching me, as far as I could tell. How do I activate this thing? Mentally, I concentrated on my internal skill slots, recalling them to the forefront of my mind¡¯s eye. There they were. Four cubes, able to be rotated into any configuration I wished. Three were vacant. One had a sort of icon representing the Clurichaun skill, the same green and red hue as the pre-fused data card. I tried to reach out into space to grasp the icon, but touched only air. My menu wasn¡¯t open. This was a different process. I could try to open my menu and manually select the skill, but in the heat of battle that would be wasted seconds. There had to be a way to instinctually activate the skill, similar to how I had learned to materialize and dematerialize equipped weapons. I focused on the Clurichaun skill, imagining that I was highlighting the box in the same way I would highlight an object or something in my menu to view more details. The outline of the cube shone. I had selected the skill. Just a little more¡­ Shooom. [Clurichaun skill activated. 30 seconds remaining] [Energy: 0 remaining] A few feet in front of me, an image of myself appeared. A perfect replica. I had not been concentrating on where to project this image as I was so focused instead on whether I could activate the skill at all. Amazed, I slowly walked in a circle around the projection. It was me. Well, it was ¡®me¡¯, anyway. A vaguely familiar human simulacrum with skin the color of raw almonds, generic androgynous features, a horizontal slot in the back of the exposed neck, not a strand of body hair beyond eyebrows and eyelashes, and a pretty cool hairstyle if I do say so myself. This figure wore a white t-shirt, overlaid with a black ballistic vest, black tactical pants, and matching boots. It wasn¡¯t a static image, but stood in the posture I had stood in when activating the skill, ever so subtly moving and swaying with the illusion of life. I wondered, could I choose the posture, or even control the movement of this projection? I would need a lot more practice. Maybe a higher Adeptness or Protocol would enable me to manipulate the projection. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I paced the quad, admiring my handiwork from different angles until the timer ran out, and the image dissipated into a wisp of nothingness. [Clurichaun skill elapsed. 30 seconds until recharge] Regardless of the cooldown period, I couldn¡¯t practice using the skill again because my Energy was zero. I realized I had never experienced zero Energy before. And I felt it. A heretofore unknown lacuna. Like a crash after riding an extended caffeine buzz. My stamina was sapped. And shooting up with a 250 Crypt Replenisher Injection to gain only 10 Energy back didn¡¯t seem cost effective. Perhaps there was a way to forge some consumables that would restore my Energy reserves. Otherwise I would have to wait for the next Cycle. However, an unintended side effect was that 30 additional metabytes of storage were temporarily freed up. Good to know that in a tight spot, I could burn a skill in exchange for extra space. Alright. Enough of this. It was time to return to Plan A - crawl into my capsule and brood. ¡°Hey you!¡± I froze. That voice was familiar. Two men in black denim and leather decorated with cobra patches stepped into the quad. One had a reverse mohawk, black marble eyes, and a steel jaw. The other was pale, with buzzed hair, a silver grill, and one shiny metallic hand. I hadn¡¯t remembered seeing a metal hand on him before. New upgrade? I materialized my revolver and pointed it at them. They were unarmed, for the moment, and slowly approached with their hands raised in the air. Razor and Buzzcut. Buzzcut wouldn¡¯t meet my gaze. Take one more step and I¡¯ll shoot! They stopped. Both looked at the ground now. Razor spoke for both of them. ¡°We¡¯s not ittying to spar. Our leader has commanded us to come gives our appy-polly loggies.¡± What? Apologize? You¡¯re here to apologize? Razor nodded, eyes still downcast. I carefully walked forward, training my revolver at the goon. Why wouldn¡¯t these dram buzzards just leave me alone? My trigger finger was feeling unusually itchy. ¡°Our leader commands us. He wants to meets with you to make veshches right. He¡¯s inviting you to our domy for an audience.¡± Your leader? The leader of the Serpents? Razor nodded again. He turned his head as I brought the barrel of my gun closer and closer. To my astonishment, both men got down on their knees before me, eyes averted. Feeling bold, I pressed the barrel against Razor¡¯s forehead. He flinched, but remained kneeling subserviently. I¡¯ve been warned about him. Your leader. Heard he¡¯s dangerous. Why would I go with the likes of you anywhere? ¡°The bolshy chelloveck swears you will not be harmed. And he never lies. Never. He just wants to govoreet. As a sign of goodwill, he offers a gift.¡± Slowly, Razor held out his open palm before me and materialized a small handful of Crystals. I quickly counted ten. ¡°A downpayment. Another ten if you come. Kopat?¡± Then I heard Buzzcut speak. His voice was soft. Did I detect a trace of fear? So totally different were their demeanors from our previous encounters. ¡°Please. He commanded us to privodeet you back. If we don¡¯t¡­¡± 19.1 I sighed. Was I really going to willingly walk into back to back traps? Then again, the same logic held as before. I was upgraded. My data was backed up. The worst they could do was kill me, right? Then I would respawn at the Restoration Point with only the Restoration fee on the line. I still had 1,300 Crypt. Surely the fee wouldn¡¯t be more than that. Right? Right¡­? I reached out and gently fingered the shining Crystals in Razor¡¯s hand. They seemed legitimate. But could this be a scam? Could these Crystals be somehow tainted? Yet it was tempting. 20 Crystals in exchange for a face-to-face. It would be my easiest payday yet. And I had to admit I was curious. Antisoc had warned me about the leader of the Serpents. What was his name again? But I had not made up my mind about Antisoc either. Seeing for myself if the rumors were true would go a long way to verifying Antisoc¡¯s reliability. And I wanted to know what or who could have caused such a reversal in the behavior of these two ne''er-do-wells. Getting shanked in the street by their ilk would not have surprised me. Receiving a groveling apology was another matter. Fine. I¡¯ll meet your boss. Lead the way. But don¡¯t try anything. And you hold onto those Crystals for now. You can give me the full twenty once we arrive. ¡°As you wish.¡± Razor and Buzzcut stood up and Razor slowly returned the Crystals to his inventory. Still weaponless, they began to walk out from beneath the overhang of the Residential Towers, beckoning me to follow. ¡°This way, then.¡± Where are we going? ¡°The Commons. Lower end. Ittying to the Penthouse.¡± Penthouse? I followed them deeper down the y-axis of this Volunteer enclave than I had gone before, toward the opposite end from the checkpoint leading into Royal Heights. It was a long walk. Buzzcut remained sullen and quiet, and I saw him fiddling with his metal hand from time to time. Eventually, the Serpents pointed out one building that stood taller and brighter than the others, marked with the letters NADIR near the top. Do you live there? ¡°Sometimes. Some of us spatchka here. Best to lets the boss tell you.¡± With that, Razor grew silent again, leading me until we reached a pair of rotating glass doors at the base of the building. I had assumed all Volunteers were crammed in those featureless torpedo tubes like Camel and myself, but perhaps real estate, like everything else in this place, could be had for the right price. ¡°Now please, we¡¯s ask you to puts your gun away. Others might get the wrong messel and have a baddiwad reaction. Kopat? You¡¯ll be safe.¡± I hesitated, then dematerialized my firearm, ready to bring it out at a moment¡¯s notice. When I entered the lobby, two other Serpents I did not recognize were standing guard. Each wore a turquoise mosaic mask accented with feathers featuring two snakes twisting across the face and eyes, in contrast to their familiar denim and leather greaser aesthetic. They watched us pass without comment over marble floors and into a large freight elevator. Razor activated something on a panel that I couldn¡¯t see from my angle and soon we were rising. When we arrived on the top floor, Razor and Buzzcut led me out into a spacious penthouse. Was it a living space or a museum? Everywhere I looked there were artifacts, sculptures, artwork, even fossils on display. But there were also sofas, rugs, and a very large open kitchen. Panoramic windows looked out over The Commons. I could easily see the Restoration Point shining in the distance. I thought I could see the Residential Towers too. What other landmarks could I recognize from here¡­? ¡°Ahem.¡± Razor clearing his throat brought me back to the task at hand. ¡°So do you wants the ten Crystals now or¡­?¡± After I talk with your boss. ¡°Very well. Follow me.¡± Razor and Buzzcut led me deeper into the interior. I was easily distracted by the many eclectic decorations but tried to keep pace. In fact, I was so distracted by the curious sights that I began to let my guard down. We came to a closed door and Razor knocked. ¡°Der Schl?chter. We¡¯s brought the noob.¡± I could hear the stern but calm response through the door. ¡°Show them in.¡± Razor slowly opened the door for me and I cautiously stepped past him into what appeared to be a sort of traditional bathhouse. The floor was covered in tiles, and there were wooden stools, wall-mounted faucets, wooden buckets, hanging white robes, and on the far end a large, low tub constructed of blue tiles and framed all around with wood. Sitting on a wooden stool in the middle of the room was an enormous man. The stool looked comically miniscule in comparison to his bulk. His skin was very white, and he was bald. Come to think of it, he had no eyebrows either, only large folds or wrinkles of skin where the eyebrows might have been. He wore a large robe exposing only his wide hands and thick, strong legs. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The man looked up at me and said absolutely nothing. He simply stared for what had to have been a full two or three minutes. Razor and Buzzcut kept silent the whole time, but I sensed tension in the air. ¡°Leave us,¡± he said at last. The man¡¯s voice contained such certainty and clarity of purpose that the two obeyed without a word or moment¡¯s hesitation, quietly shutting the door behind them. The huge man resumed looking me over for another period of interminable silence. ¡°Welcome, young one, to our home. We are the Genn¨¥ma Echidna. The Progenies Serpentium. You have likely heard us referred to as the Serpents, and that is an acceptable enough shorthand for the common people. Our family knows me as der Schl?chter.¡± I¡¯ve heard of you. You wanted to see me? ¡°Yes. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ve caught me at an inopportune time. As you see, I was just about to take my bath. Our mutual associates found you faster than expected. For which, of course, we are grateful, as we are grateful that you agreed to this meeting.¡± I looked over at the bath and saw that it was empty. I agreed to come here against my better judgment. Four of your people have tried to rob me twice already. Not that I had much worth taking. It seemed incredibly petty and predatory. A deep frown came across the man¡¯s face. His brow furrowed and he rested a hand on his robed knee as if to steady himself. He raised the back of his other hand to his chin and closed his eyes and held that posture for some time, looking like a larger than life Rodin statue. ¡°We terribly regret what happened to you. Many of the children that come to us are confused, lashing out at the world, in need of guidance. We find them at their lowest point, and unfortunately there is always the all-too-human propensity to slip back into those old habits and patterns. I myself was away when they¡­ accosted you. As the saying goes, ¡®when the cat''s away the mice will play.¡¯ The children have been disciplined accordingly.¡± Disciplined? ¡°Yes. And now we are gratified that you have come here to receive our apology and accept restitution for the boorish treatment you were subjected to.¡± So I can take my twenty Crystals and leave? Your people won¡¯t harass me anymore? ¡°Before you do, we would like to take the opportunity to get to know you a little better, and to let you better know us. It is not every Cycle that a new Volunteer awakens in the Metaverse. What used to be an open spigot is now but a drip drip drip of new blood. Maybe you yourself have felt confused at times and in search of guidance. In search of a path.¡± His voice was deep, firm, but had a soothing quality. It was warm as melted butter, lubricating the speech centers of my brain. Was this man getting ready to preach at me? Proselytize? Try and brainwash me into joining some cult? Of course I have felt confused but¡­ ¡°It might be better if we spoke in the bath. This water requires a special preparation and we can¡¯t delay much longer. You are welcome to partake if you wash yourself off first.¡± He indicated one of the wall-mounted nozzles and wooden stools. I realized he wanted me to wash off individually before entering the communal bath. I don¡¯t think that is really¡­ ¡°I INSIST.¡± There was something in his voice, or the way he said those words, that grabbed hold of me. Almost without thinking I had stripped off my armor, my shoes, my clothes, and had taken a step toward the stool. I remembered that I had never at any point been provided with underwear. Huh? How did I¡­ The man got up from where he was seated and turned his back to me, moving gracefully over to the communal ofuro and kneeling before some complicated valves and hoses. Confused and a little embarrassed, I quickly showered off in the cold water and self-consciously wrapped a towel around my body. Not that there was anything to cover up beyond the nipples on my flat chest. My only secondary sex characteristics, and I had no primary ones. Der Schl?chter was absorbed in his work and soon a hissing noise filled the room. Curious, I took a step towards the large blue tiled tub. From multiple silver faucets, bubbling water and steam poured into the bath. And it was pink. As pink as the falling rain. That water¡­ The tub filled and, satisfied, der Schl?chter stood and turned, almost surprised to see me as if he had forgotten about my existence. ¡°The treatment only lasts for a short time, so if you are going to get in you had best do it now.¡± Drawn to the steaming pink water, I removed my towel, folded it, and laid it on the wood panels framing the tub. Der Schl?chter¡¯s eyes moved possessively over my exposed body and rested on the featureless mound at my groin. Did I notice a hint of disappointment on his face or was I imagining it? I tentatively dipped one foot in the water. It felt warm and exquisitely soothing. So I stepped in with both feet, sinking down to sit on the tile floor and feeling the bubbling water rise up to my neck. To be honest, it felt amazing. I had not felt anything more rejuvenating in all my time here. I let out an involuntary moan. Der Schl?chter smiled and untied his robe, hanging it on a hook on the wall. He was completely naked as he descended into the bath. My eyes went wide. Oh my¡­ you have a HUGE¡­ uh¡­ tattoo. Yes, that¡¯s it, your snake tattoo. Der Schl?chter turned slightly to show off the twin snake ouroboros design on his back. ¡°Tattooing is considered a sacred art, a religious practice in many cultures throughout history. The Southeast Asian sak yant, the Nubians and Berbers, the Maori, even the Coptics. It is a way to mark out one¡¯s flesh for a special purpose. For a higher calling.¡± And your group, the Serpents. Is this a religious movement? Or are you just another, pardon the pun, snake oil salesman? Der Schl?chter¡¯s eyes gleamed and he smiled at me with his large white teeth from across the tub where he reclined. He said nothing, but kept watching me. The steaming pink waters burbled away. As I sat there partially submerged I felt a strange sensation, as if the warmth of the manipulated pink waters permeated to my bones, to my very core. I heard a ping and a status notification appeared on my menu screen. [Essence at full. Energy restored.] Woah. How did you do that!? 19.2 ¡°This is but a taste. This world is full of power, real power, beyond your wildest imaginings. One only needs to know where to find it, how to harness it, and how to master it.¡± I sat soaking in the tub, letting his words wash over me. I wondered how long this man, Schl?chter, had been here in the Metaverse. He was reclining against the far edge, one bare arm stretched out on the wood paneling. I could see the familiar barcode of a Volunteer ID branded on the skin of his wrist, but I could not make it out from where I was. Not that the numbers would have meant anything to me anyway. I heard that the Serpents seek to rule over this world. To dominate. Again, the man frowned deeply, nude folds of flesh on his large face wrinkling melancholically, as if the very suggestion offended him on a deep level. He scooped a handful of the pink water and slowly poured it over his bald head. He then repeated this action. It looked vaguely baptismal. ¡°There are those who question our methods. Outsiders. They do not understand. What is it we seek? We seek nothing less than transcendence. Apotheosis if you will.¡± Apotheosis. How so? ¡°By finding the most elusive of all things. A Singularity. Or, rather, Singularities.¡± Singularities plural? I don¡¯t understand. ¡°Nor can you, as you yourself are an outsider. However, this power, and this path, can be yours to partake in if you pledge yourself to us. Believe me when I say that I know it is a harsh world out there. Lonely. Confounding. Full of pain. But together we will overcome the world and remake it in our image.¡± I said nothing for a time, quietly processing. The pink water filling the ofuro had flattened. It was still remarkably warm, but no longer effervescent. Whatever special method had been used to harness and activate this mysterious liquid had run its course. Are you propositioning me? Asking me to join up? Strange, this is the second offer I¡¯ve had this cycle. Der Schl?chter opened his eyes and peered intently at me. It felt as if he were gazing into my soul, if such a thing existed. ¡°Is that so? Let me guess, the Forging Guild? Or could it be the Round Table? No, they are an elitist bunch and you are quite young.¡± I just looked at him. Better not to put all my cards on the table. ¡°You will find that the Progenies Serpentium welcomes all without prejudice. That being said, I perceive that you are more self-aware than most. More than expected. Your light shines a touch brighter than some of the other children. Your newness, your lack of association, would be useful, for we have a need that someone such as yourself is uniquely situated to assist with.¡± Oh? What need is that? ¡°Some of our flock have become distracted as of late and have wandered from the path. Their actions are resulting in descendance, not transcendence. We could use someone to help nudge them back. Someone with a fresh perspective such as yourself.¡± Nudge? Der Schl?chter smiled widely, showing off his large white teeth. Und was hast du f¨¹r gro?e Z?hne? The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°From a certain point of view it is a simple package delivery. Tell me, what is your name?¡± I hesitated. ¡°I thought so. Nameless and pathless. I was once as you are, in the beginning, until I found my purpose. Consider our invitation.¡± You¡¯ve given me a lot to think about. But¡­ am I free to go? Will you really give me the 20 Crystals I was promised? The man turned his head to the side and I could not read his expression. But soon, he rose to a standing position, then slowly climbed out of the bath and put on his white robe. ¡°Of course. Of course. Our words are true, and we always fulfill what we say we will do. Follow me.¡± I got out of the bath and reached for a towel but realized that I was completely dry. As in my previous experiences of being caught in the pink-hued rain, once I was out of it the sensation of wetness faded as quickly as waking from a dream. I got dressed and double-checked my menu to make sure I still had all my possessions. Der Schl?chter opened a side door and stepped out of the tiled bathing area. I cautiously followed, looking around for any other Serpents but seeing none. We walked down a hallway, turned, and soon I found myself in an ornate bedroom. There was an oversized four post bed with a canopy, fit for a king or emperor, and what appeared to be antique furniture throughout. Various tribal masks unknown to me were mounted on one wall. A tall, illustrated ceramic vase stood in one corner. The bedroom? I wasn¡¯t sure I liked where this was going. But then, built into one side of the wall was a large metal vault door with a sophisticated wheel locking mechanism. It was a striking juxtaposition with the Belle ¨¦poque aesthetic of the rest of the room. The robed man approached the vault and engaged the mechanism, swinging open the heavy door. Behind the door was a storage area shining with multifaceted brilliance. Mounds upon mounds of clinking Crystals were piled from the floor to the ceiling. My jaw dropped. ¡°Go right ahead. Take your 20 Crystals.¡± Stunned, I walked forward. The brightness of the combined Crystals nearly burned my retinas. I tentatively reached out and counted 20 Crystals, trying to tamp down my surging avarice, and added them to my inventory. Der Schl?chter cleared his throat, waiting for me to back away, and then secured the vault, sealing the stockpile. The big man seemed amused by my reaction. ¡°While you are still pondering our offer, let it be known that we will recompense you for Relics you find during your travels.¡± Relics? ¡°Just so. Special fragments from the other side, of one substance with the plants and creatures we Volunteers so often encounter.¡± You mean¡­ invasive anomalies? Or, something else? Objects that appear like the invasive entities do? The man shook his head. ¡°No, no, no. It is we who are the invaders here, not them. Someday you¡¯ll come to understand that. But if you do find any Relics, we will pay handsomely in Crystal for them. And if Crystal is not your fancy, we can deal in Crypt. Or in boys, or in girls. Whatever you desire.¡± At that, der Schl?chter let out a low whistle, like one would whistle for a dog. Razor and Buzzcut obediently shuffled into the room, ready to escort me out. ¡°We appreciate your visit, nameless one. Please know that our doors are always open for those who wish to join our family. Do consider our offer.¡± I followed the two Serpents back through the Penthouse to the waiting freight elevator. I thought I heard Schl?chter reciting some sort of verse from the other room. Life¡¯s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. Soon I passed through the spinning lobby doors and found myself back out on the dark, lonely streets of The Commons. I paused, typing a quick reminder under my Subroutines. [>SUBROUTINES Then I started walking back to the city center. From behind the glass doors leading into Nadir Tower, Razor glared after me with undisguised loathing. 19.3 Two offers from two mysterious groups, neither of which inspired the warmest, fuzziest feelings. I had to get Camel¡¯s perspective. Why was it that this bedraggled loner seemed to be the only person I could really trust? A prostitute-patronizing, chain smoking, possible alcoholic. The only person who had shown me a modicum of unreserved kindness. I decided to search for Camel at the Rathskeller, but first I made the journey back to the Data Forge and converted my 20 newly acquired Crystals into Value. The Crystals were legitimate after all. I nearly salivated at the memory of that crystalline vault in the Penthouse. To have that many Crystals and not use them for personal upgrades? What were the Serpents playing at? Whatever the case, I invested my unassigned Value into Storage. [MEMORY With my soft cap increase, I now had 41 metabytes free. That felt good. More breathing room for future upgrades, purchases, and loot. Next, I swung by the Restoration Point to save-scum my updated data, trading 100 Crypt for peace of mind. [ECONOMY I thought I should be proactive and take another bounty before my savings dwindled much further. Using the MAR system to access targets across The Collective would be a whole lot easier than hoofing it like the unprepared noob I admittedly still was. But first to find Camel. I descended the stairs under the sign of the rat and entered the raucous communal drinking hall. There was a large crowd. I glanced at the bar. The other bartender was on shift. The thin man with ear gauges and a lip ring. And no Camel. Just then a loud voice called out from the center of the room. The throbbing techno music skidded to a halt. ¡°Glory to the Volunteers!¡± Several members of the Round Table were standing on that very table, addressing the throng of Volunteers. I saw Bigwig, Rook, Apache, and some others I recognized but could not name. Bigwig raised a large stein filled with pale blue liquid. The crowd answered in hearty unison, ¡°Glory to the Volunteers!¡± There were toasts all around. Two Volunteers at a side table smashed their glasses so hard they shattered. Seconds later, the shards vaporized into digital nothingness on the floor, leaving only a puddle of drink. I didn¡¯t see Camel anywhere. Bigwig raised his hand for silence as if he were about to make a speech. Apparently I had stumbled into some sort of special occurrence at the Rathskeller. My eyes immediately went to Rook, who stood silently next to her partner. Bigwig continued, gesturing to a vacant chair around the table at his feet. ¡°And let¡¯s pour one out for the empty seat at the Round Table, and for all the other Volunteers who have been lost.¡± Lost? There was a moment of silence and I saw not a few Volunteers pouring out libations. Intensely curious, I grabbed the arm of a nearby Volunteer and whispered a question. Lost? What do they mean lost? The Volunteer looked annoyed but hissed a reply. ¡°Lost! Vanished! Bog knows where. Fallen off the edge of the map, veck. Here there be monsters, as they say.¡± Bigwig continued his oration. ¡°We are looking for Volunteers to join an upcoming raid! The Hellhounds and Baskervilles have been accumulating in New Dresden¡¯s warehouse district. A real hot spot. Big numbers. We¡¯ve been stockpiling the bounties, and there is a Rare target there. This is the deal - we get the payment, but you can keep whatever you kill.¡± The crowd murmured excitedly. Eagerness mixed with fear. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. We need meat for the grinder. Bodies. Cannon fodder. That¡¯s true! But if you lend your arms and we root out the source of this hot spot, live or die, we¡¯ll give you our 5% friends and family discount at the Armory.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. There was more murmuring. ¡°We¡¯re setting out in two Cycles tops, before the numbers become unmanageable. Or as soon as we get enough of you to sign up!¡± I had been inching closer during the speech, and was now at the outskirts of a ring of Volunteers close to the center of the room. On impulse, I raised my hand. ¡°Are there minimum requirements for who can come?¡± Bigwig squinted into the crowd until he laid eyes on me. I wasn¡¯t sure if he recognized me at first, but then he said, ¡°We¡¯ll take any help we can get, no matter how pathetic. Even you, Magpie!¡± The other Volunteers turned to look at me and laughed uproariously at my expense. Great. I guess my nickname was going to spread. Bigwig raised his stein once more to close the proceedings. ¡°Glory to the Volunteers!¡± The music kicked back in. When the excitement died down, I squeezed into a spot at the bar and waited. Maybe Camel would make an appearance. I waved for the bartender¡¯s attention but he completely ignored me. After a while, I noticed the Volunteer called Pixie nursing an almost empty glass at the far side of the room. I made my way over to her table, winding through the bodies. She was alone, glowering and muttering. Excuse me, can I buy you a refill? She eyed me up and down through a cognitive haze. ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re not my type.¡± No, it¡¯s not like that. I saw your fight with Rook. You had some pretty impressive moves. ¡°Not impressive enough. Now frag off.¡± To make her point she picked up her heavy machine gun and slammed it down on top of the table. I just want to ask one or two questions. Then I¡¯ll leave you alone. She grunted and ran a hand through her pink mohawk. ¡°Get me a refill and I¡¯ll give you until I finish the drink.¡± Dutifully, I took her glass back to the bar and shouted for the bartender, refusing to be overlooked. After much effort, I paid my 10 Crypt and brought back the drink. ¡°Took you long enough.¡± She started into her drink immediately and I sat down across from her, knowing my window to ask anything was rapidly closing. What made you want to join the Round Table? ¡°Are you fragging with me? They are the best of the best. And they have an opening right now, which doesn¡¯t happen often.¡± Yeah, I saw that. Can anyone join? She snorted. ¡°There¡¯s a process. First they have to agree to consider your application. I mean, it¡¯s not like a formal application or anything. I got their attention by helping them with some stuff a ways back. Then you have to have proof that you soloed at least one monster of every frequency. That means you closed a bounty alone. Common, Uncommon, Rare, Legendary, and Mythical. After that, the Round Table has to unanimously agree to take you on, and as your final test you challenge a standing member to combat.¡± Mythical¡­ So if I joined this raid, that might help start my application process? ¡°Listen, Magpie, or whatever your name is. That open seat is mine. So maybe don¡¯t waste your time, kopat? Then again, I don¡¯t feel threatened. You¡¯ve got a long way to go.¡± Pixie opened her throat and sucked down the rest of the drink, placing the empty container on the table next to her machine gun with a morose sigh. ¡°All gone. That means time¡¯s up.¡± Her expression sealed the fact that the conversation was indeed over. I got up, giving a polite nod of thanks and understanding, and went back to the bar. The longer I spent in this place, the more I realized I didn¡¯t understand. Not yet, anyway. Just like there was no chance I was qualified to join the Round Table. Not yet. But¡­ Rook. There was something about her that I couldn¡¯t get out of my head. Like I wanted to impress her. What had Bigwig said about joining the raid? You keep what you kill. The detritus. Crystals, data cards and data card fragments, who knows what else. No Crypt, though. Of course, I knew that if I died, I would lose anything I managed to collect. The carrot was a 5% discount at the Armory. How had the Round Table arranged that? They must be valued customers. I opened my Subroutines and jotted down yet another note. Another possibility. [>SUBROUTINES Hellhounds. Baskervilles. And something Rare. Bigwig used the term ¡®hot spot.¡¯ And they would depart within two cycles or less. I thought about what Antisoc had said about the Round Table. They believed they could truly win the game, to rid The Collective of these invasive entities, to fulfill their contracts. Suddenly an odd sort of siren sounded in the Rathskeller, and the music faded to a lower volume. A single strobing light flashed near the ceiling. The rude bartender banged a metal spoon against an empty glass and called out to the customers. ¡°Last call! Rain¡¯s coming. You don¡¯t have to go home but you can¡¯t stay here!¡± Outside, pink-hued raindrops started to fall. 19.4 (GAME CHANGING DECISION POINT) - readers poll activated! In short order the Rathskeller was emptied. The rain was already falling steadily when I made my way up the narrow stairs to street level. Many Volunteers quickly moved in the direction of the Residential Towers, but not all. I wondered where the Round Table members laid their heads. I sloshed my way to the Towers and rode the lift to my floor. At the far end of the dreary hall I saw a capsule door shut. An unknown neighbor. I went to my capsule, scanned my code, and crawled inside. It was just as barren as ever. Maybe I could get a poster or something to decorate. A potted plant. Heh. I removed my ballistic vest and boots, setting them carefully beside the foam slab that served as a bed. Then I reclined, wearing only my t-shirt and pants, and dimmed the fluorescent light. I had an opportunity to align myself, or at least attempt to endear myself, with three separate groups. ¡®Factions¡¯ was the word that Antisoc used. What an unusual coincidence that all three opportunities should open up within a single Cycle, almost concurrently. Or maybe there were no coincidences. The term ¡®synchronicity¡¯ wormed its way into my brain. Strange. Where did that thought come from? As I lay in the near dark, I opened my menu and reviewed the notes entered under my Subroutines. [>SUBROUTINES If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Antisoc, a shadowy group of self-proclaimed hackers that had ambushed and interrogated me. They want me to play a part in carrying out a heist at the Repository to help fund their ongoing operations. They claim to be my best hope of discovering the truth about this digital world and my own lost identity. Could I trust them? Would they trust me? I recalled that Apache had casually name-dropped them. They obviously had some sort of symbiotic relationship with the Round Table, or at least provided special services to Volunteers from time to time. Then there were the Serpents. I was warned this group was dangerous. And Serpent goons have accosted me on two occasions. Yet their leader invited me to join their ''family.'' He promises power beyond my wildest imaginings, and he demonstrates an uncanny mastery over certain elements of this world. All I have to do is ¡®deliver a package.¡¯ Hmm. Lastly, the Round Table is recruiting Volunteers to serve as cannon fodder in an upcoming raid. It sounds dangerous, with a high likelihood of death. If I survive, I could keep whatever I earn during the raid. If I die, I will lose it. I didn¡¯t have any kind of Repository account to instantly transfer materials for safekeeping. But live or die, I would get a 5% discount at the Armory and maybe take my first steps toward joining the Round Table, if that is what I want. The raid will begin in less than two cycles. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I twisted the knob until my capsule was bathed in inky darkness. A torpedo tube in a submarine in the depths of the ocean. I felt myself slowly fading from consciousness. 20 - Heist Chapter 20 - Heist I was submerged in cold, dark water. A vast liquid body. A glimmer of light above the distant rippling surface. My limbs were heavy. I flailed, trying to swim up, to no avail. I couldn¡¯t breathe. And I couldn¡¯t scream. Air bubbles poured from my nostrils and water immediately took their place. I opened my mouth and murky water flooded my throat. My lungs began to expand. Sacks of fluid buried in the cavity of my chest. I was drowning. Then I was gasping in the dark. Coughing. Gagging. Sputtering. I groped for the wall and my hand found purchase. The dial. I twisted it, flooding my pathetic little capsule with artificial light. I was alive. I was dry, except for a damp sweat. It wasn¡¯t real. I kept telling myself that. It wasn¡¯t real. It wasn¡¯t real. I waited some time until my nerves regained some measure of equilibrium. Bit by bit, my pulse returned to normal. I heard a chirp. A menu notification. [Refresh complete. Essence at full. Energy at full.] Ah, yes. The cycle. The endless night continued. I ran a hand through my dark hair and thought. Decision time. I had to find out what the frag was going on. I needed answers. Sitting there in silence, a realization dawned on me. Antisoc was my best chance to get those answers, or at least some of them, even if it did require coloring outside the lines. Somehow, this certainty solidified in my mind - this choice, whispered from elsewhere, like a message from the part of my brain currently inaccessible to me. But I wasn¡¯t ready to bet it all with Antisoc just yet, or with anyone. I didn¡¯t know enough to throw in my lot with any one faction. I didn¡¯t want to go all in before I saw the turn or the river. Enough with the metaphors. One job. I¡¯ll do one job for Antisoc and see what doors it opens, if any. If it is a trap, well¡­ I¡¯m already trapped, aren¡¯t I? Who knows. If I get this heist done fast enough, I may even have time to join up with the Round Table¡¯s little crusade. I got dressed and made my way to the crash of open air vendors and food stalls congealing in the armpit of The Commons. Not knowing any official name for the place, I decided to call it Spawn Alley. Now where was it? It had to be here somewhere. I checked the shielded notes in my Subroutines menu. Look for a simple neon blue sign. The kanji for fish in a closed circle. Order the fugu. ô~ Could that be it? What did I know about kanji? The booth matched the description, and it reeked of pungent seafood. There were only a couple stools and I slid into place. A stoic man of Asian appearance greeted me with a silent bow. I¡¯ll have the fugu, please. Another bow of acknowledgement, and the man vanished behind a small red curtain. He soon returned holding a black net in which a large, live pufferfish with dark mottled spots over a big white belly lay. The man set the net on a white counter and gently removed the pufferfish. He held it in his hands, inspecting it, before laying it down on its side on the counter. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. It was gasping. Its gills expanded and closed in rhythm. Drowning in the artificial atmosphere of the metaverse. The dark eye on the left side of its face regarded me balefully. I let out an involuntary shudder, remembering my nightmare, if you could call it that, from not long before. I was drowning, and now you are drowning in reverse. And I am the cause. I am the patron that manifested your suffering. I had the sudden urge to vomit dark water but there was nothing to vomit. I let the wave of nausea pass. Get a grip. The chef turned on a small shower nozzle over the fish and, just as quickly, slipped a sharp knife through the back of its head and neck. A streak of crimson blood mingled with the falling water as the chef began to rapidly cut away the fins, the skin, butchering the fish with expert cuts burned into his muscle memory. The liver, ovaries, and intestines were removed and discarded, and before I knew it the fish was fileted and the chef was slicing the raw flesh into thin strips. An elegant flower arrangement of raw fugu was set on a plate before me. The chef bowed once more, then turned to help another customer. Reaching for a pair of chopsticks, I hesitated. The words of Antisoc rung in my ears. If we discover or suspect that you are collaborating with ColSec, eating the dish will flatline you. But if we trust you, Schr?dinger will guide you to us. Flatline. Why did I feel so nervous? I had nothing to hide. If the so-called three magi were as wise as they puffed themselves up to be, they should know I had nothing to do with ColSec. I brought a segment of the delicate fish to my mouth, trying not to let my hand shake. I swallowed, letting the whole thing slide down my throat without even remembering to chew. And I waited. And waited some more. Would I sense a flatline coming? Would I feel the reaper¡¯s cold fingers on the back of my neck? Then, out of the corner of my vision, I saw a smile. In the darkness of a sidestreet, a yellow-eyed cat emerged, the owner of that subtle grin. It approached and hopped up on the wooden counter. Its arsehole to my face, the cat shamelessly and greedily devoured the remaining pieces of fish from my plate, then just as nonchalantly leapt down. Nobody else paid it any attention. Shiva. How much was I going to have to pay for that fugu? But as I got up to follow the cat, the chef didn¡¯t say a word or even look in my direction. Darting between the legs of passersby, the cat doubled back in the opposite direction. I hurried to keep it in view, and soon was led through the rat maze into another area of The Commons I was unfamiliar with. Now I was near a rusted chain link fence with the husks of discarded crotch rockets stacked in a giant heap on the other side. The cat casually stepped through a two-dimensional rectangle of chameleonic light on a graffitied brick wall to my left and was gone. I quickly followed. I found myself standing in a decrepit structure. An abandoned warehouse, or basement, or laboratory long out of use. There were tables, massive electrical cables pulled from the ground like bundles of unruly roots. Bright panels pulsed with numbers and twisting geometry. Broken glass, empty crumbled cups, and other debris littered the floor. Three figures moved between the panels. The nearest, who could charitably be called scrawny, turned to me. He wore a black t-shirt with the words WISSEN IST TOD on the front in bold white lettering. And his face¡­ to my shame I admit I recoiled instinctively as he stepped forward into the light of a single hanging bulb. He was a burn victim, his features painfully seared away from some unknown tragedy. He saw me flinch and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Another stopped what he was doing and turned to regard our conversation with mild interest while the third kept working away on an oversized screen. I could see they all had some form of physical deformity. Sometimes more than one. A cleft palate. A Glasgow smile. A milky, drooping eye. >What¡¯s wrong? Does our appearance unsettle you?< What? Uh¡­ no. Of course not. I just wasn¡¯t expecting¡­ um¡­ >We paid a lot of Crypt to be this ugly. What¡¯s your excuse?< I¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know... >Relax. This corrupt world monetizes artificial beauty and profits off your shallow desire to obtain it. This is just one way we give the finger to the man. Besides, it¡¯s all just a mask after all< To illustrate, the man in the black t-shirt made a flicking motion with his hand and suddenly his face changed. He looked just like the chef that had butchered the pufferfish. Then he flicked again. Now he looked completely different, leprous and old. Another flick. I stood blinking in confusion. It took me a while to realize that he was now wearing my face. The flicks went faster and faster until his face was a kaleidoscopic mask of shifting identities. >Enough games. Shall we get down to business?< 20.1 Is this all of Antisoc? Just the three of you? I glanced around the dim, cluttered workspace uncertainly. The t-shirted man nearest me answered while the others looked on, multitasking on their various panels and screens. Jacked into the system through the back door. I didn¡¯t see the cat anywhere. >Of course not. Just as we never use the same location twice, we will never reveal our true numbers. Many Volunteers assist us, as we assist them. Not all who help Antisoc are Antisoc< So you are the Three Magi¡­ Tank Man, Q¡­ and¡­ >Fawkes. The faces, so to speak, of the resistance< I watched as each visage, or portion thereof, shifted at irregular intervals. Most revealed some form of physical abnormality. A gallery of evolutionary misfires. I also could not see any Volunteer ID codes, but why would they be reckless enough to show them? Just as their faces were masks upon masks, their names were nothing but aliases upon aliases. Q as in the letter? Or Queue as in¡­ waiting in line? >Q as in Qu?ng ??c, not that it is any of your concern< Well, I am here to help. With the special job. And you wouldn¡¯t have let me in here if you had reason to suspect me. So tell me what you know about The Collective. >Patience. Quid pro quo. You help us with this heist, and we will shine our light a little brighter for your benefit< I checked my Subroutines notes again. [>SUBROUTINES You want my help to pull off a heist at the Repository so you can continue funding your operation. But what about the system, this world, everything you¡¯ve told me about Collective Security? How are you sure you can even pull off this heist? The last thing I wanted was to be set up as a patsy so this shadowy group could withdraw some illicit funds. They claimed it was System money. But could it be Citizen money? What about Volunteer money? >You hunt bounties. We hunt glitches. Although technically impressive the system is far from perfect. The glitches are opportunities. Vulnerabilities. You may notice things change from time to time, although you haven¡¯t been here long. A door you once saw as red is now blue. A street sign is suddenly in a different location, like a mirror image. You remember things happening one way but history, even your recorded history, reflects something else. It is the Mandela effect. When you remember something that in theory never happened, it usually means a system change has been made< Okay. And one of these opportunities exists in the Repository? One of the others, currently appearing as shaven-headed with a massive surgical scar across his cranium and wearing thick mirrored glasses, spoke up. >You don¡¯t have a high enough Protocol to understand it. The vulnerability exists. You¡¯ll have to trust us< Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Right. I¡¯ve never been to the Repository. What exactly is the role you need me to play in this? The one with the t-shirt smiled a grim smile that persisted across several identities. >Pay it a visit. Many Volunteers use the Repository for Crypt storage, item storage, or both. It would not be unusual for a first-time visitor or potential customer to request a tour. Bots run the place, of course. When you are inside, we will initiate a DDoS attack. This will take all Repository services offline. Temporarily. That is your window< My window for what? The third figure, the one who had not yet spoken, stepped away from a panel and approached me. He, if it was a he, wore an oversized white lab coat. The figure reached into a coat pocket and produced what looked like a long, black, semi-cylindrical flash drive. >This is a ghost stick. Completely shielded, although it will take up metabytes. If you get caught with it on you, ColSec will notice the storage discrepancy. So don¡¯t get caught< The t-shirt man spoke next. >Have you gotten a shine job?< I¡¯m sorry? >Can you see in the dark?< No. You¡¯ve seen my menu and I haven¡¯t gotten much changed in the meantime. I grew irritated as I recalled the helplessness I felt as the enlarged, glitched-out faces of Antisoc poured through my personal information without consent. I pushed the feeling aside and tried to refocus on the conversation. >Once the DDoS attack goes off, it will be lights out. You will need a method of seeing in the dark without generating light. In the absence of a little eye surgery you might consider night vision goggles. Although, again, if you get caught having just purchased night vision goggles, that will be suspicious. Q?< The lab coat wearer reached into the other pocket. Ah, so that one was Q. This time the figure held up a pair of technologically advanced goggles. They looked like miniature binoculars attached to a black headset. >These are also shielded. Same deal as before. They won¡¯t show up in your equipment or history, but they will take up space. We¡¯d prefer to get them back when the job is done< I reached out and accepted the ghost stick and the goggles, feeling the weight of them in my hands. I concentrated and highlighted the goggles. [Accessory: (Thermal Goggles) Frequency: missing parameter Details: Superior to goggles that amplify existing light, thermal imaging goggles convert heat radiation into a visible image. This allows the wearer to see in complete darkness, as long as there is a temperature difference between objects. Properties: This accessory is Shielded, and will be invisible to others in your Menu and History. If the item is sufficiently damaged, it may lose the Shielded property. Size: 10 metabytes] I quickly added the goggles to my Equipment menu but did not yet equip them. I kept the ghost stick in my hand. So I ask for a tour, the lights go out, then what? >On your tour, you must get into the data vault before the attack. If our calculations are correct, all deposit boxes should open, exposing the data ports. Simply plug the ghost stick into an open port. When the power is restored, the ghost stick works its magic. Think of it as a Trojan horse in the palm of your hand< Any open port? What do you think the response will be? How long until the power is restored? >We ran a test on a different establishment several cycles ago. A Citizen bank deep in The Collective proper. Polizei bots evacuated all the Citizens and had the power restored in about six minutes< I took a deep breath and studied the ghost stick in my hand. Then I dematerialized it into my inventory. Get into the data vault before the DDoS attack. Plug in the ghost stick within six minutes. Don¡¯t get caught. 20.2 I soon found myself in front of a building in a section of The Commons I had not visited before. The exterior was surprisingly ornate, and yet had the same grimy sheen I had come to know so well. The structure might have been a central European opera house or a grand train station repurposed after some long forgotten revolution. The six tall stone columns and wide staircase of the portico punctuated the faux-classical facade, while aspirational statues groped for the empty heavens above a pointed pediment. I approached a series of three large doors and pushed hard until one slowly swung open. The lobby was expansive but faintly lit, as if the architecture was meant to harness natural light (of which there was none). I immediately noticed faint red streaks of light scanning my Volunteer ID code upon entry. Some type of automatic tracking beam from corners of the high vaulted ceiling. A smart-dressed woman behind a counter called out a prim greeting. ¡°Welcome to the Repository, First Time Customer. Please approach the service counter and we will be more than happy to assist you.¡± I glanced to the left and right as I stepped forward. I saw a handful of others in the lobby. Some were likely bots assigned to this place, while I believed at least a couple were fellow Volunteers. Were they making deposits or withdrawals? To one side of the lobby was a wall of metal bars and a security checkpoint, blocking off access to the inner sanctums. I noticed there was a thick plexiglass barrier with only a narrow triangular opening between myself and the woman. She wore a pencil skirt, a buttoned-up blouse, a professional cardigan or jacket, a tied silk scarf, and glasses. Her facial expression was friendly to the point of hostility. Hello. Thank you for the kind welcome. As you observed, I have never been here before. But I¡¯ve heard a lot about this place. ¡°We pride ourselves on maintaining the best data storage services and financial products in The Collective, including here in our Commons branch! How may we assist you?¡± Be cool. Be cool. I knew my Persuasion score was very low. Would that have any effect in dealing with bots either way? The best course of action would be to tell as much truth as I could, without revealing any of the nasty bits. Yes, the truth. The truth is I consistently run into challenges with storage. I¡¯m always maxing out or nearly maxing out. It got so bad I ended up getting a chip installed. Can¡¯t say it was a pleasant experience. I tapped the back of my neck for emphasis. But I know that is only a temporary fix, and just for Crypt. I heard the Repository offers a variety of services but haven¡¯t had the chance to come out and see for myself. ¡°We are so happy you are considering using us for your data banking needs. The most popular service we offer are storage accounts for Universal Cryptocurrency Credits. May I ask what your current net worth is?¡± Uh, 1,190 Crypt. She wrinkled her nose in disgust but quickly regained her stiffly smiling composure. ¡°We offer unlimited storage for Universal Cryptocurrency Credits, with a per-cycle fee based on where your total balance falls within a variable financial bracket. However, I must inform you that a certain minimum account balance is required in order to opt-out of additional fees. At your current net worth, it is possible that the fees you incur may quickly surpass your total balance. In that case, we invite you to explore additional Cryptocurrency storage options with another financial institution.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Oh, are there other places that offer account services? I didn¡¯t realize. ¡°No. But in the event that any other financial institutions are established, we invite you to explore whatever options they may offer you at that time.¡± I see. Well, I am an active bounty, er¡­ Volunteer. I expect more Crypt to be coming my way soon. Anyway, I am just trying to learn all I can about your services. I am not necessarily planning to open an account just yet. Besides Crypt storage, what else do you offer? ¡°Another popular service with Volunteers is our data storage boxes. To prevent over-encumbrance or a crowded living space, you can choose to store your excess belongings in raw data form in our safe deposit data storage boxes. For this service, a per-cycle fee is assessed based on the total metabytes of storage utilized. Both the Cryptocurrency account and data storage accounts begin at 100 ¡®Crypt¡¯ per cycle. And we are pleased to offer the data storage boxes with no minimum storage requirements!¡± Yippee. ¡°For Volunteers on the go, we also offer instant transfer subscriptions. Find your pockets overflowing in the field? Can¡¯t make time to come into the Repository? Instantly zap your excess currency or data straight to your accounts! All for a very reasonable additional per-cycle fee. We guarantee the lowest rates in The Collective!¡± Naturally. I have heard of the transfer service and I admit it does sound very convenient. ¡°Additionally, we offer Universal Cryptocurrency Credit Loans to qualified borrowers with the lowest interest rates in The Collective. Would you be interested in speaking to a Loan Officer?¡± No, no. Not right now. But thank you for the information. ¡°Our pleasure! How else may we assist you today?¡± You mentioned the storage boxes. Something about raw data. Is there a way I can see how that works? I don¡¯t know if you offer tours, but I am curious. I would want to know that my data is truly safe and secure. A flicker of irritation, or something else, crossed her otherwise antiseptic expression. ¡°Of course. Account holders are allowed access to their storage box upon request at any time, but we can show you to the vault and provide a demonstration. Proceed to the security station and I will meet you there.¡± She pointed to the checkpoint near the wall of metal bars and turned a hanging window sign around, indicating that her particular space at the counter was temporarily closed for business. Then she disappeared behind a solid barrier. I approached the security station, which looked like a pair of sliding prison doors with a contraption resembling a millimeter wave scanner or metal detector between them. I was beginning to feel nervous. Can¡¯t let it show. The woman appeared on the other side of the bars and tapped a button, opening the first, outer door. I stepped into the middle space. ¡°For non-account holders, no weapons of any kind are allowed beyond the lobby. Please store all weapons on your person in the assigned holding cube.¡± Shiva. Antisoc didn¡¯t mention this! A metal grate to my left opened and, on a conveyor belt, a large transparent cube rolled into view and opened. The teller stood watching me impatiently. Reluctantly, I materialized my snubnosed revolver then my push dagger, removing them from my Equipment menu and placing them inside the cube, which sealed itself. I watched my only weapons rolling out of reach, the metal grate rattling to a close. Peering through the bars, I saw that the cube rolled into some sort of fenced-off waiting room. There were a few other cubes in use back there. One seemed to contain a bloodstained chainsaw and several hand grenades. ¡°You will receive your property after the conclusion of the tour. Now please step through the scanner.¡± 20.3 (+ minor decision point) My body tensed as I stepped into the security scanner, planting my boots on the indicated spaces. There was a faint whine as an encompassing red light washed over me, starting with my head and moving downward, then back up again. I was carrying two pieces of contraband. [EQUIPMENT INVENTORY Antisoc said they were shielded, like my Subroutines menu and presumably every interaction I had with the shadowy group. How good was this shielding? And how sophisticated was this scanner? I was about to find out. If this scanner was capable of detecting my storage discrepancy, I was in trouble. ¡°Finished. Step forward.¡± Phew. The Repository teller / woman / bot beckoned me onward as the whine of the machine shut down and the next barred door trundled open. Her face retained the same plastic smile while her body language betrayed boredom at the chore of giving a low-roller like me a tour. I followed her down a long tiled hall. She made chit chat as we walked deeper in, possibly a rehearsed spiel about the design of the building, the security features, and so forth. I heard little of it. The sound of my thudding heart reverberated in my ears. My eyes darted all around, trying not to let my nervousness show. We turned a corner and I saw another Volunteer walking past. Then another. Good. The more the better. If I was the only one in the building when this went down that could be a problem. ¡°And up ahead is our data vault, where all Commons customers can access their safe deposit data storage boxes. Right this way.¡± For some reason the concept of an old post office came to mind. Everywhere were gilded bars - different offices and alcoves appearing like royal cages. Yet the relatively dim light cast a dingy pall over the place. This particular vault was a large rectangular room with walls filled floor to ceiling with copper or brass plated boxes and horizontal openings. An analog skin for a digital service. If this Repository really did provide financial and data storage services across The Collective, I imagined the other branches must be a lot sleeker and modern. I couldn¡¯t imagine the likes of Monique Rossignol or her shareholder husband frequenting a place like this. ¡°Depending on the size of your¨C¡± At once, all lights went out, plunging the building into total darkness. There was also a moment of complete silence so profound that for a split second I thought the world had ended. Then - pop, pop, pop. A thousand metallic doors sprung open. I heard murmurs of confusion and alarm in the distance. The other Volunteers? No sounds from my erstwhile tour guide. The clock was ticking. Now what? I remembered the thermal goggles and hurried to open my menu. The light of the menu shone bright in my eyes and for a moment I panicked. I was not supposed to create any lightsource. But, of course, I remembered the menu was visible only to me. I scrolled down to my Equipment submenu, found the goggles, and selected them. [Equip >Thermal Goggles?] Yes. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I couldn¡¯t see it, but I felt the swirl of pixels coalescing around my face, becoming solid. The Thermal Goggles were on. A bit heavier than expected. Everything was still dark. I heard heavy footsteps somewhere, echoing off the walls and high ceilings. How do I turn these on? My hands fumbled over the head strap. Over the sides of the binocular-like goggles. Frag. I should have practiced this. There were multiple knobs, buttons, and dials. Ah, a switch. I flicked it and suddenly the interior of the Repository was bathed in dark purple light. There were traces of orange and red, pops of ambient temperature. But everything was blurry. Trying to walk induced a nauseating sensation. Frag! I have to focus these to the correct range. Tick tock. Tick tock. I twisted a couple dials in the center of the binoculars until clarity emerged for this short distance viewpoint. Operating these were more complicated than I expected. I did a quick 360 to reorient myself. My tour guide was nowhere. Vanished without a trace. I wondered what the result of the DDoS attack was on bots. What next? I needed to find a data port and insert the ghost stick. I materialized the ghost stick into my hand and hurried deeper into the vault room. As suspected, all the little metal doors had swung open, revealing sem-circular data ports that glowed with faint residual warmth. I twisted the ghost stick until it was lined up correctly and carefully inserted it into a random port. Nothing happened. Antisoc had said it would kick into action once the power was restored. And now what? Using the thermal goggles and stepping carefully, I started to retrace my steps back toward the front of the building. Through the thermal goggles I saw another Volunteer, apparently without the benefit of night vision, feeling his way blindly along a wall. A loud noise shook the building. Like someone trying to restart a generator. Was the power trying to come back on? That was a lot shorter than six minutes. I couldn¡¯t be caught wearing these goggles! I quickly unequipped the goggles just as the lights flickered back on and the hum of background activity filled the space. For the first time I noticed bland electronic muzak playing overhead. The other Volunteer and I turned toward each other, and I feigned surprise at seeing him. He had half of his head shaved, a thick mustache, and several prominent facial piercings. What¡¯s going on? What happened? He shook his head wearily in response to my bluff. ¡°Some chepooka, no doubt. Making me razdraz. Can''t a veck get his missile launcher out of storage?¡± I thought to ask what sort of bounty he was hunting that required a missile launcher, but I held my tongue. I could see the wall of bars and the security station ahead with the lobby beyond. It seemed that the double security doors were open, the scanner offline. With the power coming back on I assumed the ghost stick was doing, or would do, whatever it was designed to do. No way of confirming. Just then blinding white lights flashed on one by one from somewhere outside the building. Through any and every skylight or window, bright white light flooded in. A monotone voice boomed unnaturally loud, amplified by some source. ¡°This is Collective Security. There has been an unexpected service failure. All Volunteers proceed immediately to the nearest exit. We repeat, this is Collective Security. There has been an unexpected service failure. All Volunteers proceed immediately to the nearest exit. For your safety, evacuate the Repository in an orderly fashion with your hands in the air. We repeat-¡± Shiva. Shiva. Shiva. The other Volunteer hastened ahead, passing through the double security doors. I followed. My weapons were still locked away in the storage cube beyond the bars. There was no one to assist and no way I could reach them. Dram. ¡°-proceed immediately to the nearest exit-¡± A half dozen or so Volunteers were milling about in the lobby, making their way to the three large doors at the entrance, squinting and shielding their eyes from the blinding lights. I also saw the woman from before, returned to her former service spot behind the counter, as well as other presumed Repository workers standing around awkwardly. I guess the bots got rebooted. I had to think quickly. I still had the thermal goggles in my possession. Despite the shielding, my storage discrepancy was a real risk if I was about to have an up close and personal run-in with ColSec. Didn¡¯t want to risk that. I hurried ahead to join the small crowd of Volunteers making for the exit. Hoping to be blocked from view by the shuffle of bodies and blinding lights, I subtly materialized the thermal goggles in one hand hanging at my side. ¡°-evacuate the Repository in an orderly fashion with your hands in the air-¡± To one side of the large doors was a data-recycling memory hole. But I knew I would need to scan my identifier to use it - and who knows how it would react to a shielded item? Could I somehow reverse pickpocket another Volunteer, surreptitiously dragging and dropping the item into their inventory? That would potentially implicate an innocent stranger in a crime they didn¡¯t commit. Or would I just have to drop the item on the ground and hope for the best? 21 - ColSec A fourth option occurred to me as my decision making time dwindled. I stooped down and made a show of picking the object off the floor. Excuse me. Somebody dropped this. Is this yours? Does this belong to anyone? ¡°-Security. There has been an unexpected service failure-¡± I added the goggles back into my menu and stepped through the doors with the others, into the blinding lights. Chapter 21 - ColSec A white box. I was standing in a white box. A perfect rectangular prism of sharp 90 degree angles. Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling, all smooth and featureless. If I had to guess, I would give the measurements as five feet by five feet, with eight or nine feet of headroom. There were no doors or windows. No way in or out that I could perceive. The box was fully and uniformly illuminated without a discernible lightsource. And no furniture. Just an empty white box. I didn¡¯t know how long I had been there. Empty minutes bled into empty hours bled into who knows what. And I was completely alone. I stood until my legs ached then leaned back and slid to a sitting position in one corner. When that position caused my back to cramp, I stood again and tried to pace the small area, eventually slumping down once more. I resisted the urge to open my menu. To read through my history. I would have done anything to kill time. But I had the distinct feeling of being watched, although there were no cameras or viewports. They want me to open my menu. They are waiting for a moment of weakness. Or is that just paranoia talking? The system likely had full access to my information at all times, so why should now be any different? I didn¡¯t know how much more of this I could take. I replayed the recent events over and over again in my head. Wondering if I did everything correctly. Was the heist successful? Successful for whom, I grumbled. Deprived of the regular human rhythms of hunger, thirst, excretion, and sleep, as well as lacking any and all external stimuli, I remained in a solitary limbo. An interminable wait. No sooner had these thoughts crossed my mind than I realized I was not alone. A tall figure stood over me. Frag me! I startled and scrambled to my feet. Perfectly motionless, a humanoid figure stood in the room. It had the familiar appearance of a Polizei bot, complete with impenetrable visor, but instead of black it was completely white from helmet to boot. The crisp white uniform blended in with the sterile box. How it had come to be there I could not say. Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Known aliases include: Magpie. I am an officer with Collective Security, assigned to Surveillance, anti-Terrorism, Apprehension, Security, and Investigations. I am here to ask you some questions. Questions? What kind of Questions? It sounded just like the Concierge from my orientation, just like the disembodied voice from the information kiosks spread throughout The Collective. I knew the thing I was speaking with was not human, but some type of program. A ColSec program. Did it say known aliases? As you know, the Repository in The Commons experienced a minor system failure. Collective Security is performing routine questioning of all Volunteers on the premises during the incident to ensure future system stability and data integrity. You mean the power outage? That was quite a surprise. I almost got lost in the dark. Thankfully another Volunteer helped point me in the right direction when the lights came back on. I am required to inform you that any responses you give during this interview will be included in the associated quality assurance incident investigation report. No problem. What were you doing in the Repository? I hesitated to answer. I had a measly Persuasion statistic of 10. I had almost no chance of bluffing my way through this. Better to play dumb. Or, try to find a thread of truth to wrap my brain around. Somewhere in the recesses of my lost memory, I had the concept that to beat a lie detector test you needed to mentally ask yourself a different question than your interrogator asked. Huh. Where did that idea come from? Either way, it might not apply to this situation. Better to play dumb and give half truths. A friend of mine, goes by Camel, suggested I could open an account at the Repository to solve my Crypt storage issues. Another Volunteer, Bigwig, said he uses it for gear storage. I thought I would check it out for myself. The Volunteer with the known alias of Camel has previously been under Collective Security investigation for possible Terms of Service violations. Are you affiliated with an organization known as Antisoc? I am not affiliated with any organization. Technically true. Camel under investigation? The officer used the word ¡®previously.¡¯ What did that mean? Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Are you aware that it is a serious violation to interact with the System in any manner that could interfere with, disable, disrupt, overburden or otherwise impair the System; to gain access to (or attempt to gain access to) another Volunteer or Citizen¡¯s account or any non-public portions of the System; to upload, transmit, or distribute to or through the System any viruses, worms, malicious code, or other programs intended to interfere with the System, including its security-related features; or to access, search, or collect data from the System by any means (automated or otherwise) except as permitted within the Terms of Service? I¡­ I don¡¯t recall ever reading the Terms of Service before. Can I get a copy? You have insufficient system privileges to access that information. Sigh. That seems to be a running theme. Many of those things you just mentioned I would not know how to do. Not even if you paid me. It is an accurate assertion that you have very low ratings in your Processing statistical subcategories. Exactly! I was interested in, and am still interested in, opening a data storage account. But now I¡¯m not so sure. Is there a problem with the Repository? Will my data be safe there with power outages going on? I will be the one asking the questions. You have a storage discrepancy of 10 metabytes. You have 249 metabytes of storage in use, but only 239 metabytes of discretely detectable data. As the officer did not ask a question, I remained silent, trying to stare as vacantly as possible at the robotic helmet in front of me. How do you account for this discrepancy? Discrepancy? How do you¡­ I opened my menu and scrolled through it carefully, squinting at the text. All my weapons were held at the security station before my tour, but I see all the items and numbers I should expect to have. At least I think so. Your History records you making the following statement just prior to exiting the Repository: ¡®Excuse me. Somebody dropped this. Is this yours? Does this belong to anyone?¡¯ What exactly were you referring to? In the lobby, when all the Volunteers were leaving, I found a piece of equipment on the floor. I thought somebody must have dropped it or misplaced it. Maybe when the lights were out? What piece of equipment? Show it to me. Reluctantly, I fumbled about in my menu for as long as I could until I materialized the thermal goggles. I held them up before the inscrutable gaze of the officer. It regarded the item in silence. I¡¯ve seen lots of Volunteers wear goggles or headgear, but I have no idea who these originally belong to. Which was technically true. This item is contraband and will be confiscated immediately. I watched sadly as the thermal goggles floated out of my hand and winked out of existence. Oh! Really? Contraband? As I said, they aren¡¯t my property. I¡¯m still very new here. I have a lot to learn about how things work. It is an accurate assertion that you are relatively new. You remain low level, with only two completed Tasks. However, the amount of time you have spent here is not commensurate with so few Tasks. You signed a contract, and the Terms of Service state that you are to fulfill the duties of that contract. Volunteers with low Task completion rates are cause for concern. Idle hands, as the proverb goes, are the devil¡¯s playthings. Just what I needed. A program spouting off idioms. I fully intend to complete more Tasks, I just¨C The fact that you were in the Repository during the recent system failure is cause for concern. The fact that you were in possession of a contraband item is cause for concern. Additionally, your connection to Volunteer 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00111001 is cause for concern. Who? On the other hand, your lack of experience and low statistics may help validate your repeated claims of ignorance. You also have very little recorded Crypt or other property of value. I¡¯m no criminal mastermind. I¡¯m not anybody, really. That may be so. But you are now a somebody - somebody of interest who warrants further monitoring. Wait. You¡¯re putting me on a watchlist? Collective Security will be reverse engineering the contraband item to determine its true origin. We may arrange further interviews if you continue to be somebody of interest to our ongoing investigations. In the meantime, if you are contacted in any way by a group calling themselves Antisoc, you are to immediately present yourself at Collective Security headquarters and report this. Collective Security is prepared to richly reward any Volunteer possessing information about this terrorist organization. Terrorists? Affirmative. The terrorist group known as Antisoc is actively jeopardizing the very survival of the human race through their continued interference with The Collective. They must be stopped at any cost. Survival of the human race? That sounds¡­ serious. It actually did. If you have at any time been in contact or have collaborated with Antisoc or any affiliate thereof, it would be in your best interest to turn yourself in and disclose everything you know, rather than have Collective Security discover this during the course of our ongoing investigations. Do you understand? I must warn you that the consequences of violating the Terms of Service are serious. Yes¡­ I hear you loud and clear. There is another option. Oh? The system administrator has authorized me to make the following offer. In order to remove yourself from all suspicion in connection to the recent incident, I am prepared to offer you the choice of an enhanced system reset. What does that mean? Your achievements and all data accumulated so far during your time in The Collective will be erased. Your History, including your memory and awareness of your time in The Collective will be reset. You will re-enter the orientation as a brand new Volunteer. However, I am authorized to offer you significant perks in connection with this reset. You will be awarded a sign-on bonus of 10,000 Crypt, in addition to an expanded living arrangement in the north Residential Tower. Holy Shiva¡­ 21.1 At that moment I was filled with inchoate rage. I knew then without a doubt that this System was responsible for my memory loss, and had deliberately deceived me about it. ¡®Dissociative amnesia can be an uncommon but serious reaction when entering The Collective.¡¯ But why? For what purpose? And now this ColSec buzzard was offering (or was that threatening?) to reset my memory again. All the Crypt in the metaverse wasn¡¯t worth losing myself a second time. But what if this wasn¡¯t the second time¡­? Oh frag. I didn¡¯t want to think about that possibility. No. No! I don¡¯t want that! I am not a terrorist! I am not a member of this group you are talking about! The impenetrable white helmet regarded me blankly. Elevated pulse. Chromatic face shift attributable to blood vessel dilation. Clenched hands. An authentic emotional response. Interesting. I wanted to strike this thing in front of me. To pummel it with my fists. But that would be useless. I was powerless, impotent, trapped in this bleached out interrogation room. The officer momentarily froze, then raised an arm to the side of its helmet, pausing there as if receiving some transmission. It lowered its arm again and cocked its head to one side, quietly observing me before speaking again. There has been an explosion in The Commons. In the area colloquially known as Mendicant Row. Significant environmental destruction and many Volunteers taken offline, resulting in a bottleneck at the Restoration Point. What? My eyes went wide. An explosion in The Commons? An authentic reaction of surprise, suggesting that you had no involvement. No! Of course not! The officer hesitated, continuing its piercing study of me. I wondered what could have caused such an explosion. Some kind of accident? Was The Commons under attack? Due to the imminent need to reallocate security resources this interview will be cut short. I gaped in disbelief. Short? You kept me waiting in this box forever! Just because the interview is being aborted does not mean our concerns about you are alleviated. A parting word of caution: do not be distracted. Focus on fulfilling the requirements of your contract. The Collective needs you to carry out the work you volunteered for. Right. If you for any reason come into possession of any information regarding the terrorist organization known as Antisoc, present yourself at Collective Security headquarters located in Metro Central. We will be monitoring you, Volunteer. The white walls of the box grew brighter and brighter until they were blinding. And then, they were gone. The box, the ColSec officer, all of it. I stood shakily in an unknown space, feeling a queasy tightness in my abdomen. It took a minute for my eyes to readjust to my surroundings. It looked like I had been dumped in a sort of narrow underground mall but all the shops were closed, their metal security gates rolled and padlocked. A handful of red neon signs flickered indecisively and abandoned sandwich board displays written in an unknown script advertised miscellaneous wares. I saw my snubnosed revolver and push dagger lying unceremoniously on the ground in front of me. I stooped to pick them up and quickly added them back to my Equipment menu, breathing a small sigh of relief. They returned my weapons. I could at least be thankful for that. Hard to do my job as a Volunteer without them. I turned around, trying to get my bearings. Behind me were security barricades, yellow caution tape, and the subtle gleam of an electronic barrier. A sign read: Code 404-37. Excuse our mess! This area is under construction. Only one way out, I guess. Down the other direction. I avoided brackish puddles in the cracked asphalt, ducking to avoid low hanging cables and air vents as I made my way to the far end of the walkway. I saw concrete steps ahead, leading up. The anger I felt remained, burning within my breast. Part of me was glad to stick it to the system. Then again, was it a lost cause? If I wanted to get out, to return to whatever my life was on the outside (if such a place existed), didn¡¯t I have to play along? Didn¡¯t I have to fulfill my mysterious contract? And what the ColSec officer said about the survival of the human race¡­ was that more lies? Propaganda? I thought about Antisoc. They had warned me not to get caught with the shielded thermal goggles. Now the accessory was confiscated, and there was a possibility that, if the code was cracked, Antisoc might be at risk. Of course, they had also asked me to return the goggles to them. A lose / lose situation. And after spending who knows how much time in that interrogation chamber, would Antisoc trust that I had not betrayed them? They could easily choose to flatline me to reduce their exposure. All these thoughts swirled in my mind as I began climbing the steps, only to pause as I heard a faint sound. It was the sound of somebody crying. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Hello? A figure was hunched over, sitting on the steps, burying its face in gloved hands. At the sound of my voice, it raised its head. It was a man. He was wearing a brown leather trench coat over black corduroys and a button down shirt. Appearing embarrassed, he wiped tears from his cheeks and put on a pair of spectacles. ¡°You startled me! I didn¡¯t know there was anyone else down here. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± No, don¡¯t be. Are you¡­ okay? ¡°Not really. I just got released from questioning by ColSec. Oh, it was awful.¡± You too? There was some kind of incident at the Repository. ¡°Exactly. They took every Volunteer who was there in for grilling. And I had nothing to tell them!¡± He put a gloved hand to his side and winced, as if his ribs hurt. I carefully looked him over. I did not recognize him as having been in the Repository. But what did that mean? Everything happened so fast, and it was a large building. Did they hurt you? He waved away my concerns. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ll be alright. I just need to pull myself together.¡± The man had gentle features and a kind disposition. His dirty blonde hair was medium length and parted in the middle. His face was smooth, save for a cleft in his chin, and he had beautiful blue eyes which appeared larger through the lenses of his wireframe glasses. I assumed no metaverse avatar would be created with vision problems, so the glasses must have been an aesthetic choice. Yeah. That was my first run-in with ColSec, and I hope it will be my last. What were you doing at the Repository? ¡°That¡¯s a very personal question.¡± Oh, I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to pry. As I¡¯ve been told many times, I¡¯m a noob. Just curious is all. I haven¡¯t opened an account there yet. ¡°That¡¯s alright. Nothing too secret, if you must know. Just checking on some investments. I don¡¯t generally like to put that out on the street, but you seem kind.¡± Investments? Are Volunteers allowed to have investments? ¡°Bonds mostly. It is pretty niche. I¡¯m sorry, where are my manners? The name is Jack, although most people call me Fancy Jack.¡± He stood up, removed a glove and held out a well-manicured hand. I shook it politely. His skin was soft. I stifled a laugh. Fancy Jack? What sort of name is that? ¡°I know, I know. Tease me if you like. The short version of the story is: I came out of orientation at the same time as two other Volunteers. So we teamed up. King, Queen, and Jack. Get it? A regular bounty hunting threesome. But all that blood and guts. Killing and being killed. It just wasn¡¯t for me. My partners eventually became lovers and I was the odd man out, so I turned my attention to less-violent interests.¡± You were only missing an Ace. Then you could have been a bounty hunting foursome. He grinned, put his glove back on, and gestured up the steps. ¡°Care to walk as we talk? I¡¯d like to get back to my apartment.¡± I was obliged to follow him and soon we ascended to ground level. Looking around, I saw that indeed I was back in The Commons. I spotted the spire of the Restoration Point far in the distance. I wondered where we were in relation to the explosion on Mendicant Row. What did you mean by less-violent interests? ¡°When we were out there fighting monsters, the three of us, I became more intrigued with some of the plant specimens we came across. My partners could not have cared less. But me? You can say I became a little obsessed. Enamored might be a better word. Orbexilum stipulatum and St. Helena Olive. The Toromiro tree. These plants should be extinct¨Care extinct. Yet extinct plants somehow live on in this place. It¡¯s like a miracle. This place is a miracle.¡± Wow. That is certainly a unique perspective. So you¡¯re really into plants? ¡°Hence the backhanded nickname. But I¡¯ve come to embrace it. Botany. Horticulture. These are my passions now.¡± But you are a Volunteer. What about your contract? What about taking bounties? I privately recalled how the ColSec officer criticized my low bounty output just a few minutes ago. Fancy Jack sighed wistfully, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the shining buildings and dark streets. He stopped walking and turned to face me. ¡°That¡¯s just it. I aspire to become a Citizen.¡± A Citizen? ¡°If I save up enough Crypt, I hope to buy my way in.¡± I arched an eyebrow incredulously. They¡¯ll let you do that? ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. But a man can dream, can¡¯t he? Let me dream. One step at a time.¡± There was something else under the surface. Something he wasn¡¯t saying, but I couldn¡¯t figure out what. The aspiring pacifist reached into an interior pocket of his coat and pulled out a small paper card. He handed it to me. It felt soft and natural to the touch. It read: ¡®Fancy Jack, Herbalist¡¯, and had an address listed. ¡°That card is crafted from fibers of plants I raised myself. You should come by my apartment sometime. It doubles as my urban garden and shop of sorts. I make a mean cup of tea.¡± I slipped the business card into my inventory. Thank you. I have a lot going on just now, but I¡¯ll consider it. I don¡¯t know how much time I lost in that interrogation chamber. Fancy Jack raised a gloved finger in the air as if remembering something. He materialized an unusual book from his inventory and flipped it open. I wasn¡¯t standing right next to him, but it looked as if ink was swirling into place on the pages, forming words and astronomical diagrams. He noticed my curiosity and offered a brief word of explanation. ¡°This is my almanac. Or something akin to a rokuyo. I found it on a job once upon a time and have kept it with me ever since. By my calculations¡­ oh my, it seems that nearly two cycles have passed.¡± Two cycles?! I suddenly remembered the Round Table raid. I might completely miss it. I may already have. Excuse me, Jack. I have to go. I have to go right now! ¡°Me too. I have to get home and water my plants. Come visit sometime!¡± I sprinted in the direction of the Rathskeller. 22 - Raid I stumbled down the steps under the sign of the rat and pushed through double gray doors into the Rathskeller. My heart sank. Not a Round Tabler in sight. The entire establishment was sparse, with isolated Volunteers nursing drinks and grudges at sticky tables. Even the ever-present electronica, usually skull-splittingly loud, seemed muted. No heavily armed bouncer guarding the entrance to the secret backroom either. I hurried to the bar and waved for the bartender. Bowtie girl, wiping down a glass. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, taking her sweet time in coming over. The Raid! Did I miss it? ¡°What raid?¡± The Round Table. They said they were waiting on volunteers to run a raid in¡­ I quickly checked my notes under my Subroutines menu. ¡­ the warehouse district. New Dresden. Am I too late? ¡°Oh, that raid. You did miss them. The Round Table and a whole gaggle of Volunteers left several hours ago.¡± I cursed and kicked the barstool. ¡°You break it, you buy it. Besides, you might still be able to catch up with them if you hurry.¡± Really? How? I¡¯ve never been to New Dresden. ¡°Go to the MAR Station, catch the bullet heading toward Royal Heights. You go past the Palisades, Lower Dresden, and then voila.¡± And then what? Another enigmatic grin. ¡°That¡¯s for you to figure out. I just serve the drinks.¡± I thanked her and dashed out, heading for the station. Out of breath from all my exertion, I paid the 10 Crypt at the kiosk and descended to board the next available Diamond Line train. The doors slid shut and I hung on a strap, panting. The automated voice narrated the journey. Now leaving The Commons. Next stop, Royal Heights, followed by The Palisades. The city lights whipped past the windows. Come on. Come on. Can¡¯t this high speed hovering bullet train go any faster? Now arriving at Royal Heights Station. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I realized it was dark out, even in the rest of The Collective. No daylight in the land of the Citizens. And as before, I was the only one in this train car. I imagined it must have been shoulder to shoulder with Volunteers armed to the teeth a few hours ago. Now leaving Royal Heights. Next stop, The Palisades, followed by Lower Dresden. Would I miss all the action? Better late than never, I hoped. I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what a raid consisted of. Bigwig had said Hellhounds and Baskervilles were accumulating. He mentioned something about a hot spot. Mentioned rooting out the source, and a Rare target. The Baskerville Hound was {uncommon}, which meant something worse was out there. I checked my inventory as I waited, recalling my earlier encounter with the infernal dogs. Don¡¯t get bit. That was a good piece of advice. Had Rook not patched me up back then, that Infernal Burn status effect might not have been pretty. I had managed to kill one Hellhound with my blade, but it took Bigwig and Rook both unloading on the Baskerville before it went down. Although similar creatures, the danger level was a different order of magnitude between the two. And just how many devil dogs would be there this time? Now arriving at The Palisades Station. Now leaving The Palisades. Next stop, Lower Dresden, followed by New Dresden. Five bullets and a dagger. No consumables. Maybe I hadn¡¯t exactly prepared for this raid. Dram. I would lend a hand. Do what I could. I wanted that 5% discount. And maybe I could pick up some other goodies along the way. At least I had a 40 armor rating, whatever that was worth. I hoped canine teeth couldn¡¯t pierce a bulletproof vest. Now arriving at Lower Dresden Station. Now leaving Lower Dresden. Next stop, New Dresden, followed by MAR Master Terminal. Screens below the ceiling of the train car pulsed with advertisements, which I ignored. But suddenly a video came on, showing a scene of urban destruction from an aerial view. A newscaster''s voice came over the speakers. ¡°Earlier this Cycle, an explosion went off in a section of The Commons, damaging property and Volunteer avatars. Ground zero of the blast was believed to be an illicit Rez den, now demolished. Collective Security is actively investigating the cause of the explosion. Surveillance footage indicates an unknown courier delivering a package to the location of the suspected Rez den shortly before the blast. Collective Security is offering a financial incentive to anyone with information about the courier or the explosion.¡± What the frag? Now arriving at New Dresden Station. Distracted by the announcement, I shook my head. This was my stop. No time to think about this now. I disembarked the bullet train and took the stairs two at a time, pushing through the one-way turnstile to exit onto the street. To my left were highrises of crescendoing heights. I imagined civvies sleeping safe and warm in their posh beds. To my right were a series of long industrial warehouses, row upon row, with a backdrop of dark water in the far distance, the crests of small waves glittering faintly from the reflected city lights. The Warehouse District. Truth in advertising. I hurried down between the first row of structures. Street lamps at regular intervals lit the way. I approached one warehouse and tried to pull open a large hangar door. No good. Chained and padlocked. I briefly wondered what need Citizens even had for such warehouses, but couldn¡¯t spare the brain power. There was a chatter of distant gunfire. Heading in the direction of the bay, I passed two more warehouses before I heard it again. A burst of gunfire. Maybe from an SMG. Echoey, as if coming from inside a building. Also a distinct odor hung in the air. Brimstone, and something else. Ahead I saw a side door into a warehouse that was ajar. A heavy broken chain lay on the ground, cut in two. I listened at the door. Shouts and gunfire from somewhere deep inside the building. I opened the door and went inside. 22.1 The stench assaulted my nostrils. It was sulfuric, yes. But also ashes, gunpowder, singed fur, and still something else. Something putrid. It was dim inside, the only light currently coming from the exterior lamps filtering through filmy windows. Again I cursed myself for my lack of preparedness. I would give anything to have those thermal goggles back. The warehouse was multi-leveled with a grid of catwalks, and appeared to sink into the ground, with subterranean corridors connecting to other sections or perhaps adjacent warehouses. I drew my revolver and made my way down metal staircases to the lower level, ducking to avoid hitting my head on thick chains and cables. I followed the sounds of fighting. There was another light source ahead. A flicker of flame dancing on a pile of ash and fabric. I circled around a massive stack of girders in the middle of the warehouse floor to get a closer look. Crunch. I stopped and looked down. What had I stepped on? My eyes adjusting to the light cast by the tongue of fire, I saw. It was the skeletal remains of a human hand. Blackened. I had cracked two of the fingers under my boot. I quickly stepped back. Looking ahead, I noticed other bodies, equally crisped, lying in the recessed corridor. Then I realized what that elusive smell was. Burning flesh. Shouldn¡¯t these bodies disappear? Go back to the Restoration Point? I thought about what the ColSec officer said about the explosion in The Commons. A bottleneck at the Restoration Point. What was it like to die and not be able to respawn? Would you know that you were dead? Or was it just empty nothingness. I hoped not to find out just yet. I climbed down into the corridor. Fighting must have started in this warehouse and spilled over into an adjacent building. There were more flames ahead. Small fires and charred remains. Blood stains from man and beast dragged over concrete. The further I went, the heat of fire and the coppery scent of blood grew more potent. ¡°Ohhh bog¡­ Ugh¡­¡± I pivoted, instinctively pointing my gun at the source of the moan. There was a person propped up against the wall in an unnatural way, like a rag doll. Their face was burned badly, and blood seeped from their mouth. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a man or a woman, not that it mattered. Maybe they were like me. Sorry, you scared me! ¡°Kill me¡­ please¡­¡± What? ¡°My spine¡­ my spine is broken. I can¡¯t move. The pain¡­ oh bog¡­ losing krovvy but not quick enough¡­¡± I realized they must be in terrible agony from their burns and other injuries. Listen. Maybe I can get help for you. Do you have any consumables? Anything? If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°No¡­ put me out of my misery. I can¡¯t fight¡­ can¡¯t move¡­ just kill me¡­¡± Where are the others? Did anyone survive? The person coughed up blood, tried to shrug a shoulder or move their head to the side but failed. ¡°More lewdies are¡­ deeper in¡­ kill me you dram nazz¡­ do it¡­¡± This person would just respawn, I reminded myself. It wasn¡¯t murder or anything. I would be doing them a favor. Volunteers helping each other, and all that. But then, I hate to admit, a selfish thought. I only had five bullets. Did I want to waste one on this mercy killing? Such a dram selfish thought. The crippled Volunteer seemed to read my mind. ¡°Shotgun¡­ take my¡­ oh bog¡­¡± I looked down at their feet. A blood-stained single barrel shotgun rested there. I dematerialized my revolver and carefully picked up the weapon. It was a break-action shotgun, old school, so I located the breach lever and opened the action. There was a spent shell, which I discarded. Looking down again, a belt around the Volunteer¡¯s waist held maybe half a dozen shells, with many additional empty slots where shells had been. Curious, I concentrated on the weapon to access its details. [Weapon: Breech-loading Shotgun Weapon Type: Ranged (ballistic) Level: 2 of 10 Frequency: Common Damage Output: 80 Details: A breech-loading shotgun with a single long barrel. One of the oldest and simplest shotgun types, this design allows the shooter to open the action and manually insert a shotshell and reload, removing spent shells after firing. Properties: Ammunition - requires 12 gauge shotgun shells. Holds one shell at a time and must be manually reloaded. Size: 40 metabytes] 80 damage output? Wow. And the weapon had been upgraded a level. That must have contributed to the impressive power. At least impressive compared to what I was packing. ¡°Kill me!¡± the victim wheezed in agony. Are you sure? Is there anything else¨C ¡°Do it!¡± I plucked a fresh shell off the belt, loaded the shotgun, and closed the break with a click. Uncertainly, I brought the barrel up against the Volunteer¡¯s head. They struggled to move their head and torso, attempting to lean into it, eager for the reprieve it would bring. I¡¯m sorry¡­ I shut my eyes and pulled the trigger. There was a tremendous blast. The Volunteer¡¯s head turned to paste, splattering me with shreds of gooey flesh and bits of bone. When I opened my eyes the head was vaporized. Gone. A wave of nausea hit me. I dropped the shotgun and fell to my hands and needs, retching and gagging. Nothing came up of course, just dry heaving that twisted my insides in a vice. The headless corpse slumped further down the wall. No respawn yet. What did I just do? I shuddered, getting back to my feet. I just killed somebody. No, not really. Not on purpose. I hadn¡¯t meant it. It wasn¡¯t real, right? Right? A deep growling caught my attention, and I turned to see two pairs of glowing red eyes approaching from down the corridor. 22.2 Two large black dogs emerged from the deeper darkness, hackles raised, teeth bared. Hellhounds. And I was clutching an empty shotgun. In an instant I knelt at the corpse beside me, trying to pull another shotgun shell free from the ammunition belt. The dogs broke into a lope. I could see one was injured, favoring a hind leg. Likely sustained in a previous fight. My fingers, slick with blood, failed to grasp the shell at first. I quickly wiped my fingers on my pants and pulled one free, at the same time opening the action. The first dog snarled and lunged forward, the other one hanging back a bit. I popped out the spent shell and reloaded, snapping the gun back together. I swung the barrel up just as the dog pounced. I pulled the trigger. The blast hit the hellhound¡¯s torso at close range and in mid-air, changing the trajectory of its forward motion. With an unearthly whine, the hellhound slammed against the wall, a gaping wound in its ribcage. Dead! But the other dog charged me and there was no time. Almost on instinct, I reached into my mind¡¯s eye, drawing up my skill slots. I focused on the Clurichaun skill and rolled backwards away from the approaching threat. Shooom. [Clurichaun skill activated. 30 seconds remaining] [Energy: 0 remaining] The hellhound lunged at the illusory projection of myself, kneeling with shotgun in hand. It snapped its jaws at the empty air, slobbering with bestial rage. That was close. I was about six feet away and realized I yet again had an empty shotgun. And no shells within reach. The hellhound snarled and turned to face me, losing interest in the illusion. Frag. It probably could smell me. I dropped the shotgun and drew my revolver, standing up and using both hands to aim. The dog ran for me and I backed away, taking shot after shot, aiming for its head. I got off four rounds. One bullet pierced its skull. Another its neck. Another missed, ricocheting off the floor. The fourth buried itself in its chest. The hellhound slumped forward, skidding until it lay before my boots. Was it dead? I stepped out of biting range just in case. I buried my face in the crook of my elbow as the scent of sulfur was nearly overwhelming. As if brimstone oozed from the creatures¡¯ wounds. Then I realized I had smeared bits of gore from my bare arm onto my face from the Volunteer I had euthanized. Disgusting. [Clurichaun skill elapsed. 30 seconds until recharge] But then a welcome sight. The bodies of the hounds began to glow. The subtle vibration steadily grew in concert with the motes of dancing light drawing up from their still forms. I dematerialized my revolver and stood between the bodies, spreading my arms wide to absorb the rewards from each monster at the same time. Through the tips of my fingers, I felt the power absorb into my body as the glowing motes extinguished from the now still corridor. [Common Data Card Fragments obtained - Hellhound - 5/10] [10 Crystals obtained] Not bad. But now that I had a taste, I wanted more. Too bad I didn¡¯t have another Tincture of Fortune handy. Nor did I have any means to forge in the field, if such a thing was possible. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Then I heard more distant gunfire and shouts. Somebody running. It sounded like it was from the adjacent warehouse, connected by this corridor sunken into the concrete floor. I checked my revolver. [1 / 5 ammunition remaining] Hmmm. I picked up the shotgun and removed the spent shell, then walked back to the corpse and detached the ammo belt. I counted five remaining shells. ? If you aren¡¯t respawing yet, I guess these are staying with me. I dematerialized the revolver, buckled the ammo belt around my waist, and reloaded the shotgun. Five shells, one bullet. I wouldn¡¯t try to add the new equipment to my inventory, just carry them on my person. That way I didn¡¯t have to worry about storage. Time to press on. Feeling a bit more confident, and still with the full complement of my Essence, I went faster through the corridor. It was darker ahead, the flickering spits of flame further behind me. I squinted. Was that a red light ahead, from around a corner? Something like a beam of red light, maybe from a laser pointer, was dancing around. Then I heard a scream and the sound of clanging metal. I hurried forward and turned the corner. It seemed the corridor zigged and zagged before connecting to the next building. A little light from the other warehouse penetrated the way and I saw the silhouette of a Volunteer swinging at a larger, darker silhouette. Another hellhound? Or worse? ? Hey! Do you need help? The Volunteer grunted. It sounded like a woman. My eyes adjusting, I saw she was swinging some sort of sword. It was a tight space, and she did not have much room to maneuver. The large canine was pressing in against her, growling menacingly. ¡°Kill this fragger!¡± I raised the shotgun and stepped up, trying to get a clean shot. I did not want to accidentally hit the Volunteer, moving and struggling in the poor light. My accuracy wasn¡¯t the greatest, and this wasn¡¯t exactly a precision weapon. Then the beast vomited fire, scorching the Volunteer¡¯s leg. I knew then it was a Baskerville Hound. The woman screamed in pain but fought on. The brightness of the flame now illuminated the scene. The Volunteer was a very muscular woman, almost like a bodybuilder. I didn¡¯t recognize her. She had some sort of metallic contraption wrapping around one side of her head and covering her right eye. It was from this device that the red laser emanated. Maybe an implant. She held a long, curved blade, like a katana, and she kept shifting positions, using it alternately to block the creature¡¯s advance and to strike. And strike she did, but it was hard to tell what the effect was against the beast¡¯s dark fur. Smoke curled from the creature¡¯s nostrils and it snapped its jaws at her. Looking down the barrel, I got within several feet and aimed at the hound¡¯s dark haunches. I pulled the trigger, and the shotgun recoiled hard against my shoulder. The dog yelped in pain and fury, stumbling forward on damaged legs. I backed away and started reloading. Meanwhile, the woman stabbed her blade into its side, drawing blood. The beast suddenly jerked its bulk to the left, wrenching the sword from her grasp. Blade protruding from its side, the Baskerville leapt up and clawed at her face with the nails of its forepaw. The woman fell backwards. The metallic contraption on her face was ripped away, dangling by wires and a broken hinge intertwined with her flesh. An empty black cavern of an eye socket was revealed beneath. ¡°GAH! Hit it again!¡± I stepped forward and released another blast into its side. It howled madly, flame dripping from its jowls as it turned to face me. I backed away and began reloading once more. The hound was badly injured. It was having trouble standing under its own power. But it could still burn me. Then, from behind the Volunteer, two hellhounds ran into the corridor. Hunting as a pack, they each bit down on one of the woman¡¯s legs, dragging her backwards while the Baskerville looked on menacingly. ¡°No! NO! There¡¯s too many!¡± ? I¡¯m reloading! The woman attempted to dig her fingernails into the hard ground as the dogs tried to drag her away, ripping at her pants and legs. I raised the shotgun again. Three targets and a Volunteer in the middle. I aimed back and forth between them, not knowing where to shoot and not wanting collateral damage. But then I saw the woman materialize something strange. It was rectangular and lumpy. She held it in one hand and some kind of electronic device in the other. ¡°Frag this! Get back! If you make it, tell the Round Table I ittied bravely!¡± Squinting, I realized what she was about to do. This crazy Volunteer was clutching a block of C-4 plastic explosive. And in her other hand was the detonator. Suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in this tight space, I turned and ran as fast as I could back the other way, trying to escape the blast radius. 22.3 (rare monster + decision point) I turned the corner and flung myself to the ground as the explosion went off. There was a flash of light, and a shockwave of smoke and debris blew past the corridor. I instinctively covered my head and waited for the dust to settle. My ears rang. I waited a good minute before getting up and peeking around the corner, shotgun at the ready. It was quiet. Visibility was low with dust and smoke still swirling at ground zero of the blast. No guttural growls. No glowing red eyes. I stepped down the hall, shielding my mouth and nose from the particulate, noting the scorched and pockmarked architecture. No sign of the Volunteer or the creatures. But, through the haze, I did see shining ephemera. My pulse quickened a beat. That Crazy Volunteer took them out. Almost took me out too. Finders keepers? I reached for the floating loot over the indiscernible piles. [Common Data Card Fragments obtained - Hellhound - 3/10] [Uncommon Data Card Fragments obtained - Baskerville Hound - 2/10] [20 Crystals obtained] Not bad. I ran a quick check of my storage. [MEMORY Good. Not maxed out yet. And I noticed that Fancy Jack¡¯s calling card took up 1 metabyte in a heretofore unnoticed Miscellaneous submenu of my Inventory. I searched around for any sign of the Volunteer¡¯s katana. But it was nowhere to be found. Pity. And the ringing in my ears. It hadn¡¯t gone away yet. Still, beyond the blast-induced tinnitus, I could hear fierce fighting in the next building. Time to move on. Rest in peace, anonymous Volunteer. Or should that be ¡®Restore in Peace¡¯? I wasn¡¯t sure what was left of her. I walked to the end of the corridor, stepping through puddles of burnt viscera, and entered the next warehouse. Round Table spotted. This warehouse was similar to the one I had first entered, with multiple levels, including catwalks, accessible by stairs. Shipping crates were stacked high in various parts of the building, creating natural barricades and areas of cover. I counted about four Volunteers, but thought I could hear more. There were shouts, curses, and gunshots from the middle of the room and from above. A Round Tabler with a submachine gun with a large drum magazine was taking shots from a catwalk above. I hurried around the nearest stack of crates to get a look. There was Rook and Bigwig, circling their target. [{rare} entity detected - Huodou] A what? Several phosphorescent flares were scattered on the ground, and some of the Volunteers had flashlights trained on the beast. It was large, larger than a Baskerville, and jet black. So black that the light seemed to sink into its canine silhouette. There was a large weighted net over the snarling beast, but I watched in concern as the net caught fire and quickly burned away, as if the creature¡¯s body emanated pure heat. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°It¡¯s loose!¡± shouted the man from above. Free from its confines, the Huodou moved quickly, and the very ground seemed to melt and catch flame wherever it stepped. The Volunteer above rained bullets down at it, but it was quick. Another Volunteer, a scraggly fellow in a gas mask who was definitely not a part of the Round Table, charged forward with a molotov cocktail. He chucked it at the beast at close range, and I heard the glass break over it. ¡°You fragging nazz! What possibly made you think that would rabbit?¡± Bigwig shouted at the hapless Volunteer. Sure enough, the Huodou sucked up the ball of flame into the black hole of its maw, broken glass and all, then quickly regurgitated what can only be described as Napalm on the Volunteer. He died screaming. The hound darted forward, sending Rook and Bigwig into a retreat. Several large crates caught fire as the devil dog brushed against them. I noticed other flames coursing up the warehouse walls. I glanced cautiously toward the high ceiling. Could this whole structure come down if the fire got out of control? Bigwig had his snub-nosed double-barrel shotgun out. Rook had her kusarigama, attached to her back by long chains. No automatic pistols? Maybe she had run out of ammo. The body count, of both Volunteer and beast, suggested this had been a drawn out slugfest. And here was the main attraction. ? I¡¯m here to help! Bigwig turned and flashed me a derisive look. I wasn¡¯t sure if he recognized me or not. ¡°You¡¯ve got a gun. Bloody use it!¡± He punctuated his command with a double-barreled blast of his own. The creature snarled, and quickly weaved its way across the floor toward the closest target, leaving prints of fire in its wake. The closest target was Rook. ¡°Keep your distance, Rook!¡± I instinctively stepped forward and aimed, shooting at the side of the beast. Contact! It yelped, slowed for a moment, then kept after Rook, who was being backed into a stack of crates. I reached for a fresh shell off my belt to reload. But then¡­ oh no. I felt the shotgun start to fade from reality. Its particles dissipated into nothingness and were gone. I looked down and similarly saw the ammo belt melt away. Frag me! That other Volunteer must have made it through to the Restoration Point! The logjam was cleared, at least for them. I recalled what Antisoc told me about the System safeguards against duplicating weapons. Bigwig gave me an incredulous look and shook his head. I drew my revolver in one hand and dagger in the other. Rook, sickles held at her sides, did a duck and roll maneuver past the lunging beast, slashing at its foreleg with her blade. It howled, and the edge of her blade was slick with dark red blood. Just then¨CCRASH! A catwalk came tumbling down from above, crushing Rook¡¯s leg and pinning her to the ground. She cried out in pain. The first time I had ever seen Rook lose her cool. Bigwig fired another blast at the Huodou as it whirled around and I ran forward, unloading the final bullet in my revolver. [0 / 5 ammunition remaining] It was all happening so fast. Bullets rained down from above until I heard a click, click, click. The Volunteer with the submachine gun had run out. In desperation, I threw my empty revolver at the creature¡¯s head. I saw Bigwig scrambling to reload in my periphery. I only had my dagger. What could that do? ¡°Rook, do you still have any Regenerator Serum?¡± Bigwig shouted. I couldn¡¯t tell if she heard him or not. Rook was struggling to push the heavy catwalk off her leg, which was clearly broken. Looking off to the left, I saw the body of another fallen Volunteer, not yet respawned. An AK-47 lay beside him. Did it have ammo left or not? The Huodou confidently stalked toward the trapped Rook, fiery jaws opening wide. The creature¡¯s eyes gleamed, and Rook appeared mesmerized but whatever she saw in them. 23 - Death I was of two minds. My instinct for self-preservation at war with my, dare I say, irrational desire to save Rook. Or maybe I just wanted to make an impression on the Round Table. Whether personal courage apart from avarice was a virtue I possessed I truly could not yet discern. Who was it that said ¡®know thyself?¡¯ Still working on that. With only a second to spare, I rushed into the space between the trapped Rook and the enormous black beast. I could feel the intense heat radiating off its body. The air between us shimmered like a mirage. ? Leave her alone! Breaking her line of sight with the Huodou, Rook shook her head clear, noticing me with surprise and then immediately turning back to try and free her leg from beneath the collapsed catwalk. I brandished my dagger, ready to stab at the creature¡¯s face. But then I too saw those ominous eyes. They were like bottomless holes, and in them I could peer into another scene. But what? I stood transfixed. Time seemed to slow as I gazed into those eyes as if through a glass darkly. And all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. It is hard to describe exactly what I saw, but the gist of it is this: a naked figure in an empty room, scrawny, hugging itself for warmth and trembling pitifully. Layers of skin, like an onion, were sloughing off. Layer upon layer, paper thin, revealing the utter emptiness within. And then the Huodou killed me. Chapter 23 - Death ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ 0 1 10 11 100 101 110 111 1000 1001 1010 Bright light pierced my eyeballs. I tried to shut my eyelids but realized I didn¡¯t have any. Not yet. My mind lurched. I tried to move my limbs. Phantom pains. Signals to nowhere. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Where am I? What¡­? In a tube. Stuck in a cylinder. A whirring sound. Beams of light, weaving the fabric of me together. Bones and sinews. Hot light crisscrossing through me. My nerves stinging, each one coming online, coming alive. And then my clothing and armor, stitched together right on top. I remembered the burning warehouse. I remembered the Huodou. Dead. I fragging died out there. So that must mean¡­ Restoration Complete. Now discharging. I heard a metal clank and the small vibrating platform lowered me out of the angled, translucent restoration tube. I looked down at my bare forearms and hands in wonder. Ozone vapor wafted off my fresh epidermis. My outfit was crisp and clean. Not a speck of soot or blood. I stepped away from the tube, approaching the small panel beside the machine. Your last restoration was {0} cycles ago. Automatic Restoration Fee notification. 1,000 Crypt will be deducted. Shiva! 1,000 Crypt?! I quickly checked my menu as the currency drained from the B3-9S7-C10K chip in the base of my skull. [ECONOMY No! I couldn¡¯t believe it. The restoration fee was 1,000? Exorbitant. Extortion. Robbery! Then, with a sinking feeling, I combed through the rest of my menu. My Crystals? Gone. My new Hellhound data card fragments? Gone. My Baskerville Hound fragments? Gone. Even the recycled paper-feeling calling card from Fancy Jack was gone. I had been restored to my most recent data backup. Looking at the screen on the panel confirmed it. My ammo and Energy were replenished, and the ringing in my ears had abated, but that was small comfort. I knelt on the platform for a long time, wallowing in frustration. My loot. My precious loot. A handful of Volunteers passing through the Restoration Point shot me quizzical looks from afar. But wait, something didn¡¯t add up. Didn¡¯t I have 1,180 Crypt after taking the MAR to New Dresden? Oh, I see. I backed up to when I had 1,200. Before buying a drink for Pixie and catching the bullet train. The subtle potential to exploit this system for financial gain briefly crossed my mind, until I remembered the words of Antisoc. The penalty, or restoration fee, increased with each subsequent death. Well, their exact words were ¡®prohibitively and progressively expensive.¡¯ At least I wasn¡¯t in debt. Yet. But what did I have to show for all my labors? For all the killing and dying? I had been late to the raid, but bog dram if I didn¡¯t try to lend a helping hand. Now I needed to see if the Round Table would agree with that assessment. Were they still in that burning warehouse? Were the survivors still battling their {rare} opponent? How much time had elapsed? How long had I been¡­ out? No way was I going back to that inferno. Not right now. I would go to the Rathskeller and see what awaited me. I made an unenthusiastic slog across The Commons until I reached the top of the steps leading down into the subterranean Volunteer hangout. I could hear the bass from the throbbing electronica within. I hesitated for a spell, listening to the upbeat tempo of music that did not remotely match my current internal state. Grumbling, I took the steps and pushed through the double doors. To my surprise, across the room I saw all the members of the Round Table seated at their usual spot, save for the empty chair of course. I must certainly have lost some time, being dead and all. I politely squeezed past the other patrons and one of the members noticed me, tapping a few others until they all turned to stare. Then, to my even greater surprise, all the Round Tablers started to applaud. 23.1 (+ decision point - readers poll activated!) Ok, so I exaggerated. Just a few of the members of the Round Table were applauding. And Bigwig definitely was not one of them, although I thought I detected a hint of respect in his sideways glance as I dared to approach the table in the center of the Rathskeller. Still, it felt good to have a warm reception from such an elite group. And there was Rook, alive and well. ¡°Well, well, well. Look what the koshka dragged in.¡± It was Apache. I hadn¡¯t seen him in the fight, but he apparently heard about my minor role in it. Maybe he was an early casualty in that den of blood and fire. ¡°We were wondering when you might show up,¡± Bigwig snorted. ¡°Viddying for a reward?¡± I looked from member to member. None seemed worse for wear from the nasty encounter. If they had healed up, cleaned up, or just respawned I didn¡¯t know. I briefly thought about the Volunteer I euthanized, whoever and wherever they were. And the other Volunteer who took a ride on the C-4 express. The Rathskeller was less crowded than usual. ? Did you get it? Did you kill the¡­ what was it called again? ¡°The Huodou. Yeah, Rook got the kill shot.¡± ? Really? I turned to Rook in surprise. She smirked and brushed a white dread off her face. I had said she didn¡¯t look worse for wear, but being this close again I couldn¡¯t help but notice the deep scarring across her face and upper arms. Although this seemed more a result of extensive cybernetic augmentation than injury. Her red eyes flickered as she appraised me. Another Round Tabler, I think he must have been the one shooting from above during the raid, narrated the recent events of which I was not privy to, having been killed. ¡°It was epic. You should have seen her. You get up in the monster¡¯s litso with your puny malenky knife, and the dram veshch sizes you up for lunch. Meanwhile, Rook cuts her own noga off to get out from under the rubble¨Cslices the whole veshch right off, and activates her Hydra power to regrow the limb. Huodou didn¡¯t know what tolchock it.¡± I nodded appreciatively, mentally processing the slang. Amputated her own leg and still won the fight. Rook was one bad-arse woman. ? I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re okay, Rook. I regretted saying it the instant the words left my mouth. I wasn¡¯t really on a first name basis with this woman (although I guess she only had the one name). Bigwig frowned at me, and I suddenly felt acutely self-conscious of my feeble starter voice and my newbie status. I tried to change the subject. ? The raid was a success? Apache answered this time, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. I tried to keep my distance from his formidable spiked knuckles. Not sure why he couldn¡¯t just keep those stored in his inventory. Part of his aesthetic. ¡°It was. The hot spot has been cleared. Mission accomplished¨Cand a fragging nice Crypt haul!¡± ? What exactly does that mean? A hot spot. ¡°It¡¯s like this, rookie. When a creature of higher rarity shows up, it attracts other creatures to the same area. Rare, Legendary, Mythical. Forget it. That Huodou set up shop in the warehouse district. Marked its territory. You viddied how many Hellhounds and Baskervilles were crawling around in there. Or maybe not¨Cyou missed most of the action.¡± ? I was¡­ unavoidably detained. So if you take out the bigger threat, the hot spot is cleared? And the rarer the creature, the more dangerous it is. ¡°Yes and no. Just because a creature is of a more rare frequency does not always mean it¡¯s more dangerous. It¡¯s just more infrequent. An uncommon Cyclops can snap you in half like a twig. Rarity does not directly translate to more danger. But it often does. Whatever the case, these creatures are attracted to their own kind. We take out the bolshy baddiwad, and that district should stay peaceful for a nice long while.¡± I was beginning to grasp some of the strategy here. Maybe the Round Table believed if they could target and eliminate the rarest frequency invasive entities throughout the metaverse, there would be a trickle down or ripple effect. Cascade might be the word. Like killing the queen of an insect hive. Was this how they would ¡®win the game?¡¯ Bigwig blew out a lungful of air and cracked his knuckles, tiring of the conversation. Apache took the hint and shut up, grabbing a nearby stein and taking a hearty swig of glowing blue liquid. Meanwhile, Rook just watched me in silence. ¡°Well, what do we think? Does this odin deserve the 5% discount?¡± The other members rapped their knuckles on the table, voicing their agreement. Bigwig shrugged his broad shoulders. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Then who am I to stand in the way? Although to be honest for a minoota there I messel you might turn tail and run. But you stepped up. Showed some backbone, despite being a Xonny-come-lately.¡± I mumbled a vague reply. But I was thankful to get that discount. I needed every advantage I could get at this point. Rook got up from where she had been casually leaning against the side of the table and wrapped her slender fingers around one of the straps of my ballistic vest. ¡°Follow me,¡± she said in her low, slick voice, giving my armor a tug. Then she nodded over to the bartender. It was the enigmatic, smartly dressed female often on shift. ¡°Erwina, two tokens please.¡± Erwina? The bartender smiled that perfect white smile and slid two objects across the bar, which Rook scooped up. I recognized them as the tokens that had granted me access to the Schwarzmarkt. Apparently Round Table members didn¡¯t need to bother with ordering mind erasers to gain admission. Another perk. I dutifully followed Rook to the back of the Rathskeller where she showed the tokens to the Volunteer on watch. We stepped through the secret door. The Schwarzmarkt was deserted, the lights dim. No black market business. No caged death matches. We were alone. Did she want privacy? ? Where are you taking me? ¡°Just over here.¡± Rook led me to a small table and pushed me down into a chair. She grabbed a stool from elsewhere and slid it close to me. Reaching onto her back, she pulled out a cable. On the other end was an asymmetrical syringe-like device I did not recognize. I tensed up. ¡°Relax, it¡¯s a tattoo machine.¡± ? Tattoo? ¡°For your friends & family discount. 5% off at the Armory. You scan the ID on your right wrist for everything else, but a little smart ink on your left wrist will signify which Round Table benefits you are eligible for.¡± ? I see. Benefits plural? I wondered if there was a discount for the Supply Depot too, or elsewhere, or even higher discount percentages I could earn. I looked down and noticed for the first time that on Rook¡¯s left wrist was a small, round tattoo. It was the size of a large coin. A perfect circle with a sizeable black bird in the center, with a distinctive beak. ? Is that a crow? It was hard to read her expression with the pupil-less red eyes. But Rook pursed her ashen lips, holding the tattoo gun up in the air. ¡°It¡¯s a rook, you nazz.¡± ? Oh. Of course. When I heard the name Rook, I was thinking about the chess piece for some reason. The castle. The chariot. This elicited another slight smirk. She shook her head, her nest of dreads flowing with the movement. ¡°If you want to tap into our special benefits, you need this smart ink. Who knows, but if you keep going down this path, we can add more detail to the mark as you earn more privileges.¡± So there were more benefits. ? Down which path? ¡°I know what you did. You sacrificed yourself. You bought me just the amount of time I needed to pivot, to find a way to close that bounty. I¡¯m grateful, and I would be willing to nominate you for consideration for the Round Table if that was something you were interested in. Endorse your application process.¡± ? Really? ¡°You would have a long road ahead of you. Long. It won¡¯t be easy. There is no guarantee we¡¯d even have an open seat. But you showed real spirit out there. That¡¯s an unusual thing in this place. Tell me, did it hurt? When the Huodou got you.¡± I tried to remember. I had looked into its eyes. There was something there, some vision. Something discomfiting. When the moment of death came, it was over before I knew it. ? It happened so fast¡­ there was something¡­ Its eyes. Did you see anything when you looked in its eyes? Rook was reflective for a moment. She slowly lowered the tattoo gun, resting her hand on the table. Eventually she answered in a quiet voice, although there was nobody else around to hear. ¡°What I saw was¡­ beautiful.¡± My jaw dropped open. Beautiful? That certainly was not my experience. Quite the opposite. ¡°Forget it. I hope you had a recent data backup. I know a lot of newbies wait too long between back ups. Losing too much will make you want to razrez quit. But of course, that¡¯s impossible.¡± ? I lost a bunch of crystals. Some hellhound fragments, a few baskerville fragments. It could have been worse. ¡°Do you have a complete Hellhound data card?¡± I shook my head. ¡°How many fragments short?¡± ? I¡¯m at 4 out of 10. Rook set the tattoo gun aside and I could tell she was accessing her menu. Soon, she produced a handful of sparkling crystalline items and shifting geometry. ¡°6 fragments. And 20 Crystals. That will be enough to forge and fuse a data card. That¡¯s the best I can do. The Round Table frowns on sharing loot with non-members, and definitely never sharing any reward money. Also, we have our sponsorships to think about.¡± ? I see. Thank you. With sincere gratitude, I accepted the gifts, feeling the pleasant sensation of the fragments and Crystals absorbing into my avatar. Wait, did she say sponsorships? She raised the tattoo gun once more, ready to get on with business. ¡°Just some light body modification. Won¡¯t hurt¡­ much. But you need to tell me what symbol you want. A magpie?¡± I looked at Rook. This strong, chromed-up warrior. This elite bounty hunter. Out of my league or above my level in every way; I still did not fully understand the feelings she elicited from me. And I remembered the first time I heard the Magpie moniker. It was when she chided me for taking the loot from Camel¡¯s kill. Afterwards it had been hard to shake. Ironically or not, I realized now that a magpie was not unlike the black bird gracing her own wrist. 23.2 (+ upgrade decision point / readers poll unlocked) ? Yes, a magpie will do fine. I watched as she went to work, etching a perfect circle on my upturned left wrist and then beginning on the outline of a bird. She did it all from memory or pure inspiration. It hurt a little, but I didn¡¯t mind. Bigwig walked into the backroom and cleared his throat. ¡°Everything okay back here?¡± Rook didn¡¯t look up, just grunted a reply. Her burly partner strode over to inspect her handiwork. It seemed more like he was checking up on us. Or more specifically, me. Possessive? ¡°The thieving magpie gets a magpie.¡± He shook his head with bemusement. I noticed for the first time that Bigwig also had a small round tattoo on his left wrist. It was a rabbit, highly detailed. Huh. Unexpected. ¡°Magpies are very oomny birds,¡± Rook explained as she finished applying the smart ink. ¡°They are horrowshow at problem solving, can use tools, and can even recognize themselves in mirrors.¡± I smiled. ¡®Oomny¡¯ meant intelligent. And ¡®horrowshow¡¯ meant good. There were worse things to be associated with. Although, to be honest, I might have trouble recognizing myself in a mirror. Bigwig muttered something under his breath and went away, heading back through the door into the main section of the Rathskeller. Rook reattached the tattoo gun somewhere on the back of her metallic bodice and wiped her hands. ¡°All done. Now you can use the discount any raz you like.¡± ? Thank you. For everything. I sat admiring the skillfully crafted marking, simple as it was, and when I looked up I was alone. Rook had slipped out like a whisper in the wind. I sighed and turned back to contemplate the tattoo just a bit more. A permanent 5% discount at the Armory. That was pretty nice. Unfortunately, I had almost no Crypt left to spend. I was down to 200. That death penalty was no joke. I opened my menu and scrolled down to my shielded Subroutines. Time to update my notes. [>SUBROUTINES I thought about Antisoc. Because of my rush to join the raid in progress, I hadn¡¯t followed up after participating in the heist. How would they react to my losing the thermal goggles, and my interrogation by ColSec? And then there was the offer from the Serpents. After some more thought, I jotted down one additional note. [- Apply to join the Round Table? (TBD)] But right now I had some Crystals and card fragments burning a hole in my pocket, thanks to Rook¡¯s unexpected generosity. I exited the abandoned Schwarzmarkt. More Volunteers had wandered into the Rathskeller in the meantime, and the Round Table was holding court. The bounty hunter with the SMG, name unknown to me, was making a speech. He had a wide girth and wore a sort of brassy breathing apparatus. His arms, shins, and thighs were protected by plates of armor reminiscent of a samurai. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°¨Cand to celebrate another successful raid, the Round Table is offering drinks on the house courtesy of Kowloon Tenements! Tired of your tube? Upgrade to a Kowloon Tenement. And always¨CGlory to the Volunteers!¡± There was a mighty responsive shout from the other patrons as the Round Tabler thrust his drink in the air, liquid sloshing over the top. ¡°Glory to the Volunteers!¡± I looked over at Rook. She was back at her seat around the center table, sipping a drink. I found her compatriot¡¯s marketing pitch strangely off putting, but she betrayed no reaction either way. She and Bigwig and Apache and all the others had moved on. I waited until the mad rush of Volunteers to the bar ebbed and went outside. 200 Crypt, 20 Crystals, and 10/10 {commom} Hellhound data card fragments. It was time to visit the Data Forge again. I went straight there and stepped up to the device at the center of the forge, scanning my ID and accessing the control panel. [DATA FORGE CONVERT FORGE FUSE EXPORT TRANSMUTE] I accessed the Forge function. [FORGE I accessed the Cards function. Two of the extruding clover-leaf podium tops began to glow, eager to accept my offerings. [Insert the data card fragments for Forging] I materialized the 10 Hellhound data card fragments. They were like shards of weathered glass in dusky and ember shades, and now that I had a complete set I realized they fit together like jagged puzzle pieces to form an image and shape, although that image constantly shifted in the light. They levitated ever so slightly over my open hand. I added them to the leftmost receptacle, which received them like gravity or magnetism. [Deposit Crystals for Forging] I materialized 10 Crystals and placed them in the second lit receptacle. [Begin Forging Process?] Yes. This had better work. Dram my low Processing stats. I worked too long and hard to complete this set for a failed forging attempt. Both pedestals shone bright. Energy and data convulsed, swirled into the centrifugal center of the device. I shielded my eyes under the blast of this data furnace. At last the glow subsided. [Card Forging successful. 1 Common Hellhound Data Card (Weapon / Armor) forged.] And there it was, rotating in the air in the middle of the device. I could actually see the image of the hellhound emblazoned on, or within, the card, although the beast¡¯s form danced and lurched in lenticular fashion as it spun. I reached out and took the card with a sigh of relief. Then a thought hit me. A revelation. What would happen if I were to try to combine fragments from different data cards together? Instant failure, or something else? Had anyone tried this? Whatever the case, I had no materials to experiment with and I knew in my bones that I did not have the stats to pull anything like that off. Not yet. Time to see what this card is all about. I concentrated on it. [Data Card: Hellhound Card Type: Weapon / Armor Frequency: Common Fusion Details: Add +10% fire damage to a single fusible weapon or +15% fire resistance to a single fusible armor. Size: 10 metabytes] Interesting. My snubnosed revolver was my only weapon capable of fusion, as my push dagger had the {basic} quality. My ballistic vest was currently my best piece of armor, offering 20 defense and only taking up 10 metabytes of storage (although my tactical pants also would be eligible for fusion). But what would be better, fire damage or fire resistance? 23.3 I was tempted to go for improved defense. I¡¯ve seen a lot of damage done by pyromaniacal invasive entities. At the same time, wouldn¡¯t it be nice to have some of that fire power working in my favor? A little voice in the back of my head reminded me that sometimes the best defense is a good offense. I cycled back through the options on the control panel and selected the Fuse function. [FUSE I selected the equipment suboption. This time three receptacles illuminated before me, surrounding the middle platform. I assumed the item to be fused onto would go in the center, but it remained unlit. [Place a weapon or armor piece for Fusing] I brought out my revolver and placed it on one of the waiting pedestals with a clink. [Common Snubnosed Revolver detected] [Insert a Data Card in the indicated depository] I materialized the spinning Hellhound card and set it hovering in place in the adjacent spot. [Common Data Card - Hellhound (Weapon / Armor) detected] [Deposit Crystals for Fusing] I placed my final remaining 10 Crystals on the third location. Hated to see those beautiful baubles go, but I appreciated the benefits they accorded. [Begin Fusing process?] Yes. The data card dissolved. The Crystals melted into a brilliant aether. Even my revolver broke down into constituent particles. Another refulgent light overtook all, until at last my revolver lay in the center of the forge. It glowed, as if heated in a kiln. [Weapon Fusing successful. Hellhound +10% fire damage fused onto Snubnosed Revolver] I tentatively reached out and touched the revolver¡¯s handle. The red glow faded and, to my surprise, it was completely cool to the touch. I picked up the weapon and examined it closely. It looked no different than before. I added it to my menu, dematerializing it, then brought it out again. In my hand, the gun briefly glowed a dark red upon equipping. The same color as the burning eyes of the accursed Hellhounds. But just as quickly, it looked like an ordinary firearm once more. I opened my Equipment menu and checked the details. [EQUIPMENT There it was. A little extra elemental kick. The fusion added 10 metabytes to my revolver, but I obviously no longer had the 10 metabyte data card elsewhere in my inventory, so my storage capacity remained unchanged. I could test my improved piece out at the Armory¡¯s firing range with the benefit of unlimited ammunition if I wanted. I wondered if the 10% fire damage scaled if I were to upgrade my weapon. The breech-loading shotgun I had the brief pleasure (and displeasure) of using during the raid was level 2 of 10, and packed a considerable punch. That militaristic robot vendor at the Armory told me a little about weapon upgrades, but I would have to dig through my History to remember exactly what it said. Well, I had nothing better to do just then. I opened my History and scrolled way back to read the exchange verbatim. [MEMORY Right. In exchange for a fee, upgrades to a maximum of Level 10 would have a direct multiplier effect on damage output. Logically, the breech-loading shotgun began with 40 damage output, multiplying to 80 with the upgrade. So then, would the fire damage scale in direct proportion? I also wondered if / when I acquired a better weapon, was there a method to undo a fusion? Could I get my data card back? Would I have to choose between salvaging the revolver or the card? Or was this a permanent bond? Furthermore, to continue my meandering thought experiment, if I had ten Hellhound data cards, could I fuse them all to get +100% fire damage? Were there limits to one fusion per item, or one type of fusion per item? Did different types or frequencies of weapons have different fusion limits? There was still so much I didn¡¯t know. Even after all I¡¯d been through, I was only scratching the surface of how this world worked. I wish I could find and pigeonhole Camel, if he was sober, and pepper him with all my latest questions. Come to think of it, I hadn¡¯t seen him around for a long time. Huh. It was that or another trip to an Information Kiosk. That Fancy Jack guy had been friendly, but I doubt he would be much use when it came to weapons advice. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Before any of that, I had to backup my data. With my luck, I would get hit by a hoverbike crossing the street and lose this precious fusion. I left the Data Forge, a couple Volunteers impatiently waiting for me to vacate, and traveled back to the Restoration Point. I just left this place, and it doesn¡¯t feel amazing to be back. At least the circumstances are different. Welcome to the Restoration Point. Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 Your last backup was {0} cycles ago. Would you like to backup your data? Yeah, yeah, yeah. 100 Crypt will be deducted. I paid 100 Crypt out of my remaining 200 and climbed into the machine that wove me back into existence earlier this Cycle. I would need to take another bounty soon. A bounty that actually paid. Please enter the Restoration Station to backup your data. Into the suspended MRI tube I went. Maybe it was more accurate to think of it as a high-tech womb. A digital cocoon. Your data backup has been successfully completed. Afterwards, I checked the information panel to confirm the backup. [DESIGNATION STATISTICS SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS >SUBROUTINES 24 - Hunting (+ decision point / choose the MCs next bounty) Chapter 24 - Hunting After backing up my data at the Restoration Point I decided to stroll through Spawn Alley. I was wary of Collective Security¡¯s threat¨CI was being watched. How? By whom or what? When? I had no idea. But maybe there was a way I could send a signal to Antisoc. Nonchalant. Subtle. Discrete. Get some sort of message across. I had unfinished business with them. Was that the spot? The yokocho was empty, the neon sign switched off. It was as if somebody drained the color from the entire hole-in-the-wall establishment. Even the small red curtain in the back was as drab as days old dried blood. No customers. No fish-gutting chef. Sigh. Nobody home. After I was detained and questioned by ColSec, Antisoc might have gotten spooked. Either that or they rotated points of contact just as frequently as they moved headquarters / manifested their pocket server instances. Would I ever hear from them again? If ColSec really was keeping tabs on me, I couldn¡¯t just go asking around about the group they designated as terrorists. Public enemy number one. And it would sure be suspicious for me to be calling and searching around The Commons for an imaginary grinning cat. I briefly thought of browsing the Supply Depot for a nostalgia can of tuna. Here kitty, kitty. No, the most natural thing for a Volunteer to do is take on another task. That is what the system wanted and expected from me. Fulfill my contract. Hunt the monsters. And as it stood, I was in desperate need of Crypt. Down to my last 100, stashed in the chip in the back of my head. Another task might take the heat off me and put some pretty polly in my pocket. Two birds, one stone. Two birds. I thought of Rook. Ah, no use in daydreaming. I pushed the thought away. I could only hope that Antisoc was watching me just as thoroughly as ColSec. Then they should know that I did not betray them. Nor would I. But again, the words of that faceless Surveillance, anti-Terrorism, Apprehension, Security, and Investigations officer ran through my head. ¡®Collective Security is prepared to richly reward any Volunteer possessing information about this terrorist organization.¡¯ The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. No. No, no, no. I pushed that thought down too. The system stole my memory. I wouldn¡¯t sell out other Volunteers for a reward, no matter how rich¡­ right? I didn¡¯t have the processing power to unravel this right now. I had to put my head down and keep going. Another bounty. I left Spawn Alley (again, my name for the place) and walked to the Task Assignment Boards, keeping my eyes open for Camel or any other familiar Volunteer or feline faces on that way. No such luck. But I did arrive unscathed and found the boards available for use. I stepped up, scanned the code on my right wrist under the red indicator light, and watched the available bounties swim across the multi-screen display. Recalling the Round Table¡¯s hot spot concept, I was curious to see if any bounties would be listed in New Dresden, specifically the Warehouse District, but did not immediately notice any. As I looked over the opportunities I reflected on my capabilities. I had progressed in my statistical categories, acquired modest weapons and armor, fused a data card onto a skill slot, and upgraded my ranged weapon with some fire damage. I had witnessed and participated in my fair share of violence, but so far I only had two completed bounties, or tasks, in my history. [TASKS Three common Hellhounds split between Camel and myself. And a rare Clurichaun I narrowly managed on my own. Did I feel up for soloing an invasive entity of {uncommon} frequency? Not a group or a swarm, but just one? Two options stood out. [Task Assignment: Remove Minotaur from Grand Central Park in Eden West] [Task Assignment: Remove Jiangshi from Elysian Spires Financial District] I accessed both Tasks in turn to read more details, the selected bounty filling the screen before me. [Task Assignment: Remove Minotaur from Grand Central Park in Eden West One {uncommon} Minotaur has been detected in the hedge maze within Grand Central Park in Eden West. Task Completion Award: 3,000 Crypt Do you accept this Task?] I was familiar with the concept of a Minotaur, but off the top of my head I had no idea what a Jiangshi was. [Task Assignment: Remove Jiangshi from Elysian Spires Financial District One {uncommon} Jiangshi has been detected at the Universal Cryptocurrency Credit Exchange in the Financial District of Elysian Spires. Task Completion Award: 2,000 Crypt Bonus: 2,000 Crypt for eliminating target entity before the next cycle Do you accept this Task?] Both were uncommon frequency single targets. Exactly what I was looking for. I needed to make a decision before one or the other task was snatched by a different Volunteer. 24.1 A 3,000 guaranteed payout for killing a minotaur (if I succeeded) versus a 4,000 possible payout for killing a jiangshi (if I succeeded before The Collective was baptized in alternating scalding / freezing pink rain). I sure loved money, and the things money could buy. 1,000 additional Crypt meant a lot for a poor sod like me. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. [Do you accept this Task?] Yes. [Task Assigned - Remove Jiangshi from Elysian Spires Financial District] As the bounty vanished from the Task Assignment Board, I searched again for the Minotaur task. Maybe I could accept both tasks? I wasn¡¯t aware of any rule about a maximum number of concurrent assigned tasks. But the Minotaur task was gone. Snatched up by some other Volunteer no doubt. Okay. Jiangshi it is. A 2,000 minimum payment, but why not be optimistic? Having no concept of what this invasive entity was, I wanted to do some research at the Archives. But did I have enough time for this? The trouble was I had no way of telling when the next cycle would begin. There was no day or night in The Commons. I didn¡¯t have an almanac, or whatever it was, like Fancy Jack. And I didn¡¯t have the meteorological instincts of that elderly vendor at the Supply Depot. Come to think of it, why not go and ask? I covered the relatively short distance to the Supply Depot and walked in. Sure enough, the old woman was where I expected her to be, perched on her stool near the checkout counter. She smiled, wrinkling her eyes at me in faint recognition. I saw no parasol in her liver spotted hands. ¡°Oh ho ho. Come to do some shopping?¡± ? I¡¯m a little short on Crypt right now, but I hope to do so soon. Might I ask you a question? ¡°Ask away, dearie.¡± ? The rain. You said you¡¯re never wrong about the rain. Do you think it is going to rain soon? She paused, as if listening to the very fabric of the metaverse, and raised her hand to detect some change of pressure or humidity that I was oblivious to. She smiled again. ¡°Not yet.¡± ? Thank you. I really appreciate it. ¡°Before you run off, you should know that the renovations are finished. Our upstairs Auction House is now open for buying and selling.¡± I looked over at the spiral staircase leading up through the ceiling. The previously inaccessible upper floor. Apache had mentioned this. Alas, I had no Crypt to bid on anything and nothing valuable to put up for auction. Something to keep in mind for later. I said as much and bowed, thanking her again before exiting. If it wasn¡¯t going to rain yet I might have time to research at the Archives before finding out wherever Elysian Spires was and getting myself there. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Passing through the darkened and neglected blocks on the far side of The Commons, I entered the concrete pyramidal structure and descended to the deep bowels of the ARCHIV. When the elevator finally spewed me out, I approached the hanging curved screens and attached the headset. Welcome to the Archives. Initiate query. Hmmm. Yes, I need to learn whatever I can about my target. But it¡¯s been awhile since I¡¯ve been down here and have a few other curiosities to satisfy. ? Mythology query, Huodou. Mythology Query initiated -> Huodou The Huodou is a creature originating from the legends of ethnic minorities in southern China. Described as a large black dog that can both devour and breathe fire, the Huodou was viewed as an omen of misfortune. Flames would break out wherever it trod, so the beast came to signify wildfires and devastation. In some regional variations of the legend, looking into the Huodou¡¯s eyes would either reveal your deepest fears or illuminate your path to enlightenment. I froze. Gooseflesh appeared on my bare arms and a shiver ran up my spine. Deepest fears. Is that what I had seen, gazing into those black pools before the monster tore me to shreds? And what about Rook? She said what she saw was beautiful. What did that mean? And more specifically, what did that mean about me? I was on a schedule. No time to dwell on this now. ? Query, coco de mer nut. Query initiated -> coco de mer nut The coco de mer nut is the large, fibrous fruit of the Lodoicea palm tree, also known as the sea coconut or double coconut, and is the largest known seed of any plant. They are the size and shape of human buttocks, and can weigh up to sixty-sixty pounds. What? That¡¯s strange. But also not helpful. Wait a second¡­ let me try something else. ? Mythology query, coco de mer nut. Mythology Query initiated -> coco de mer nut The nut of the coco de mer is very large, resembling both the shape and size of the disembodied buttocks of a woman on one side, and the belly and thighs on the other. Because of this appearance, many beliefs persisted about the nut¡¯s aphrodisiacal qualities, status as a forbidden fruit, and relation to mermaids and other mythical sea creatures. Prior to the discovery of the trees that produce the fruit, sailors reported witnessing the nuts falling upwards from the floor of the Indian Ocean, leading to the belief that they grew on trees in an underwater forest. These trees were also believed to be the home of the mythical Garuda or Rukh, a huge bird capable of hunting elephants and tigers. Once the real trees were discovered in the 1700s, it was observed that the curious fruit only grew on female coco de mer trees, while the male trees had long, phallic-looking cylindrical flower clusters. Because of these erotic shapes, people believed the trees uprooted themselves and made passionate love on stormy nights. Because of the bashfulness of the trees, whoever witnessed the trees mating would go blind. Um¡­ what did I just read? Okay. So I had one {uncommon} coco de mer nut in my Inventory as a crafting material. What could I possibly make with it? And what about the mention of a giant underwater bird that could hunt an elephant? Whoever heard of an underwater bird? Another problem for another time. ? Mythology query, Jiangshi. Mythology Query initiated -> Jiangshi A jiangshi, literally meaning ¡®stiff corpse,¡¯ is a reanimated dead body in Chinese legend and folklore, commonly known as a Chinese hopping vampire. Jiangshi have their origin when Taoist priests perform spells via printed talismans on the deceased in order to send them to their home for burial, but the reanimated corpses deviate and do not obey the command. Due to rigor mortis, the undead creatures can only move about by hopping. However, they are surprisingly agile and can hop faster than most people can run. Jiangshi are said to come awake at night, seeking to kill living creatures to absorb their qi and become more powerful, while during the day they rest in coffins or hide in dark places such as caves. Based on the amount of time elapsed from death to reanimation, the physical appearance of a jiangshi can vary widely (i.e., the severity of the decomposition). Although completely blind a jiangshi can sense human breath. Great. Just fragging great. 24.2 Mythology query, Jiangshi weaknesses? Mythology Query initiated -> Jiangshi weaknesses Items that are known vulnerabilities or repellent to jiangshi include mirrors, objects made from peach wood, black dog blood, glutinous rice, and vinegar, among others. Jiangshi can also be temporarily distracted by throwing small objects on the ground as they may be compelled to count them. The most effective method of stopping a jiangshi is to nail an immobilizing counterspell talisman to their forehead. To avoid jiangshi, it is advised to hold one¡¯s breath for as long as possible. What? Where was I going to get the wood of a peach tree? And how could mirrors or throwing small objects on the ground work if the creature was blind? That didn¡¯t make sense. Then again, who said that mythology was always consistent or made logical sense? I certainly didn¡¯t know how to create Taoist spell talismans. And it would have been really helpful to know about vulnerability to the blood of a black dog earlier, when I was shooting and stabbing several of them. Well, if these hopping vampires were anything like the other invasive entities I had encountered so far, I was sure they would have to take damage from my revolver and dagger. No mention of vulnerability to fire, unfortunately. I left the Archives, taking the long elevator ride to the surface, and crossed town to the MAR Station. I paid my 10 Crypt fee and descended to the platform, stopping to study the transit map on the tiled wall. Elysian Spires¡­ Elysian Spires¡­ The transit map was laid out in a typical North, South, East, West orientation, although it did not label any of the directions as such. To get to Elysian Spires I would need to ride the Diamond Line ¡®north¡¯ until I reached the MAR Master Terminal, which was one stop past New Dresden. Then it looked like I would have to switch trains to the Platinum Line and head the equivalent of ¡®west.¡¯ I briefly examined several of the other transit stops displayed on the map. Some I had heard of from previous bounty opportunities or from the mouths of Volunteers. Some were new to me. Eden West. New Dawn. Crystal Coast. Arcadia Harbor. Nova Sakahlin. Metro Central. Little Mecca. Potemkin Villas. There were a lot of locations for the one million Citizens that migrated on the first wave. Maybe not so many considering the next thirty million in waiting. How large could a metaverse be? Was it limited in some way by the hard boundaries of the laws of physics? Or was it wholly reliant on available computing power? Or was it, like the physical universe, theoretically infinite? Then again, what if the physical universe was simply like a three-dimension pac-man screen? Keep going in one direction far enough for long enough and you end up where you started. A sharp pain registered in my forehead and I had to pinch the bridge of my unremarkable nose until it abated. I hardly seemed like the ideal recruit to infiltrate a digital world and dispatch invasive entities composed of foreign code, knowing as little as I did about the mechanics of such. But I wasn¡¯t a recruit. I was a Volunteer. Allegedly. A whooshing sound informed me the bullet train was rapidly approaching, and I boarded. As usual, I was completely alone on the train car. I passed through Royal Heights, The Palisades, Lower Dresden, and New Dresden. The flashes of outside scenery I could see rushing past the windows revealed glimpses of fiery red and amber hued skies. A sunless sunset? Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Now arriving at MAR Master Terminal. When the doors slid open, I was surprised to see several people in dapper business suits waiting to board the train. This was different. I barely had time to register it as I had to get off before the doors shut and the train sped away toward Upper Dresden. The surreality continued as I took the stairs from the platform to the main level. I found myself in a large transit concourse. Signs pointed to the different transit lines leading to far-flung locations, spinning off this hub in various trajectories to destinations known and unknown. Overhead, large screens updated the flawless travel timetables, working like clockwork. A significant number of people, presumably Citizens, moved about in the large space. They were all dressed exquisitely, and many carried fine briefcases or elegant handbags. It wasn¡¯t only Citizens. I saw fellow Volunteers passing through. None had weapons drawn, but I could tell from their motley accoutrement exactly what they were. There were also multiple Polizei bots posing at regular intervals, but they did not seem tense or on edge, merely serving a function. The Volunteers and Citizens ignored each other, each laser-focused on getting from Point A to Point B. I stopped gawking and strode deeper into the concourse, searching for a sign pointing to the Platinum Line. After walking for a few minutes I noticed multiple Volunteers congregating in one specific area of the Terminal. And to my surprise I saw another large Task Assignment Board right in the middle. Ah. This confirms it. There are multiple bounty boards. If this is a centralized transit hub, it makes sense to have a board here rather than forcing Volunteers to schlep back and forth from The Commons after every job. One Volunteer appeared to be cashing in a completed Task and receiving payment right then and there. Useful. Turning around, I noticed a long service counter. Behind it were a series of white metal cubes, stacked on top of one another and running the length of a small wall. Two other Volunteers were accessing these boxes, alternately storing or retrieving something. Each box had a small sensor and a telltale red light. Storage lockers! Is this for real? I came closer and saw posted text describing the service. Temporary Single-Point Data Storage. 500 Metabytes Max. 100 Crypt per Cycle. 10 Cycle Limit. Oh. Another convenience to use in a pinch. The rest spoke for itself, but I interpreted single-point to mean I wouldn¡¯t be able to access anything stored in one of these lockers remotely or from another access location. Compared to the Repository the starting cost was the same, but with significant size and time limits. A one night stand instead of a long term commitment. But more than enough size for any needs I would have at this point. I located the Platinum Line and descended to the platform heading in the direction of Elysian Spires. It cost me another 10 Crypt. I was down to 80. I boarded a train half full of passengers, all of whom studiously avoided me with practiced nonchalance, and hung on a strap toward the rear of the car. The doors slid shut. Now leaving MAR Master Terminal. Next stop, Elysian Spires, followed by New Dawn. Advertisements for wares and services I could not hope to afford and news of events in The Collective that meant nothing to me buzzed on the rectangular screens overhead. As we zoomed out of the orbit of the MAR Master Terminal I glanced again through the windows. The auburn hues of the sky were turning lavender, with hints of indigo nipping at its heels. Soon it would be nightfall in Elysian Spires. The time when vampires come out to play. 25 - Jiangshi Chapter 25 - Jiangshi Elysian Spires¡¯ financial district pulsed like some great digital heart. Twisting towers sheathed in obsidian glass and cold chrome scraped the outskirts of an empty heaven, the upper floors lost in the twinkling glare of city lights against the fading ombre of falling night. I stood before a veritable financial temple, dwarfed in size by the sleek monoliths on either side, but oozing with monumental self-importance and brass plated faux historicity. The Universal Cryptocurrency Credit Exchange. Suited salarymen and women passed behind me on an immaculate street while Polizei bots and a security barrier blocked the entrance to this domed marble edifice of capitalism. Towering statues of Hermes and Fortuna flanked the august doors, and venerable columns announced themselves in a tidy row, marked by hanging flags of unknown origin. Ah, it was the Reality Inc. corporate logo. ¡°You there. Volunteer. Are you here for the Task?¡± One of the Polizei bots, wearing a rank-indicating insignia on its uniform, addressed me through its shielded helmet. ? That¡¯s right. The jiangshi. ¡°Good. The Citizens are anxious to resume use of this facility. The sooner you remove the invasive entity the better.¡± I glanced at the night sky. No sign of rain. The bonus was still in play. ? I heard they only come out at night. Can¡¯t the Citizens use the facility during the day? ¡°One of them discovered a burial casket in a supply closet. They were too afraid to stay in the building after that, even during daylight hours.¡± ? I see. Wouldn¡¯t it have been easy to get rid of the, uh, invasive entity while it was sleeping? ¡°We are not authorized to do that. Now that you are here we will disengage the security barrier.¡± A shimmer of light and two of the lower-ranking Polizei bots moved twin segments of the barricade, allowing me access to the main entrance. The bots stood to either side and watched me through their unreadable black helmets. The higher rank offered a final word of caution. ¡°And there is one very important thing to remember, Volunteer. You are not permitted to make any after-hours trades inside the Exchange.¡± I rolled my eyes and kept walking. I entered through the front doors of the UCCE and took a curving flight of steps up from the lobby to the trading floor. The overhead lights were shut off, but in their panic to leave the building the Citizens left much of the Exchange¡¯s machinery on. The large open space was bordered by circular trading posts and surrounded by various booths and workstations filled with flashing screens and active data feeds. Very little of it made sense to me. Numbers going up. Numbers going down. An alphabet soup of acronyms and initialisms. Charts and graphs. Market fluctuations. Trading algorithms churning away for the benefit of absentee info-barons. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. With the lack of brokers and investment bankers, or whoever naturally haunted this capitalist mausoleum, the only sounds were the steady buzz of monitors glowing with ticker data and my echoey footsteps against the sleek marble floors. More Crypt than I could count changed hands in nanoseconds, invisible signals ripping through the air above me on automated cadences. I materialized my revolver. It briefly glowed a satisfying red in my hand. Stepping carefully, I moved further into the cavernous trading floor. The vacant trading posts, hung with panels and strewn with bladelike black server towers, obstructed my sight lines. I strained to hear anything. Anything at all beyond my own steps and the persistent electric buzz. Nothing. I let out a heavy sigh. I realized that I had been practically holding my breath this whole time. Thump. Thump. Thump. Something¡¯s coming. Thump. Thump. Thump. I held the revolver in front of me and backed away from the approaching sound until my back bumped against one of the trading posts. Then I saw it. [{uncommon} entity detected - Jiangshi] It looked like a man. But no man I had ever seen. Hopping on two stiff legs with arms rigidly outstretched, the living corpse had pale white skin with a greenish pall, highlighted by the sheen of the nearby monitors. Whether the green was from decay or some sort of fungus growing on the skin I could not tell. I could smell the stench of rotting flesh. The jiangshi was dressed in long, formal robes from another time and place, with a round-top, tall brimmed black hat of velvet or similar material with red threads at the center. The fingernails, which had kept growing postmortem, resembled blackened claws as they reached toward me. The eyes were jaundiced and empty, but my own eyes were drawn to the yellow strip of paper hanging before its face, scrawled with symbols I could not read. It opened its mouth but no sound came out. Not a moan, groan, hiss, or click. Just a slack jaw revealing a mouthful of decaying human teeth. Thump. Thump. Thump. I raised my revolver, clutching it in both hands and aiming straight for the creature¡¯s forehead. It was only a couple yards from me now and hopping faster. Thump! Thump! Thump! BLAM! The force of the blast knocked its head backward with a jerk, and I watched the jiangshi fall to its knees, scraping and chipping its long nails on the marble. Then, bit by bit, it decomposed and crumbled into a pile of ashes and bone. [4 / 5 ammunition remaining] One shot, one kill? Nice! That was easier than I expected. Maybe the easiest Crypt I¡¯d ever made in this world. For my own amusement, I blew the wisp of smoke away from the revolver¡¯s barrel, attempted a wild west style gun twirl, and dematerialized it back into my menu. Wait. Where is the system notification that I completed the task? I opened my Menu and scrolled down to the Tasks submenu. [TASKS Still pending? A rustling sound drew my attention back to the ossuarial pile on the floor. I watched in dismay as the jiangshi reassembled before me, springing back to its former mockery of life. It lurched at me, clearing the distance with an agile jump, reaching out with its hideous nails and teeth. As it made contact, a sudden chill came over my heart. [Alert! Energy draining] [Energy: 20 remaining] [Energy: 10 remaining] [Energy: 0 remaining] [Energy depleted] 25.1 I gave the creature a hard kick to the chest with my tactical boot, sending it reeling back. ? Gah! I winced and clutched at the spot on my ballistic vest shielding my heart. Whatever the jiangshi did, an inexplicably cold sensation lingered within my chest. I felt empty. Weakened. Did this mother fragger drain my qi? I didn¡¯t even know what qi was! I brought out the gun and fired twice in rapid succession. One shot grazed its cadaverous neck. The other buried itself in its torso, sizzling with latent heat. It was enough. Again, the jiangshi crumbled to the floor in a dusty heap. I staggered backwards, not taking my eyes off the pile. [2 / 5 ammunition remaining] Stay dead. Stay dead! Still no notification. Slowly but surely the jiangshi reassembled itself until the rigid body, ancient robes and all, tottered in place in front of me. Its dead yellow eyes stared vacantly ahead. Its rotting mouth hung open, hungry for more of my lifeforce. What I wouldn¡¯t give for some peach wood right about now. I turned and ran, weaving between the round trading posts dotting the trading floor. I needed to regroup. I needed a strategy. I could hear it hopping after me, faster than ever. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump! Dram this thing was fast. I kept going, nearly running a figure eight through the large room to maintain barriers between myself and my pursuer. I had no doubt it could catch me in a straight race. At last I ducked behind a large workstation at the edge of the trading floor. My heart pounded, but I clasped my hands over my nose and mouth, forcing myself to breathe as shallowly as possible. If it can¡¯t sense my breath, it shouldn¡¯t be able to find me. Thump-thump-thump. Thump. Thump. I could hear its movements slowing. It was searching for me. I took smaller and smaller breaths, trying to slow my heart rate until I was still enough to hold my breath entirely. But I couldn¡¯t hold it forever. Only two bullets left. And my dagger. I had no reason to think the dagger would be any more successful in keeping this thing down. Where did that leave me? I might be able to distract it by throwing small objects. But what did I have? No Crystals. No card fragments. Just a few random crafting materials. I slowly craned my head up. The jiangshi was moving away from me. Good. Still holding my breath, I peered into the workstation. Were there any pens? Pencils? Paperclips? Rubber bands? Not even close. There was a coffee mug and a stress ball, both with the Reality Inc. logo. I was at a loss. Maybe I should have spent more time researching at the Archives. More time preparing. I needed to retreat, even head outside the Exchange. But would I be able to make it to the exit before this thing pounced on me? I couldn¡¯t hold my breath anymore. I exhaled. Immediately, the sound of the jiangshi¡¯s movement shifted. I heard the whispers of its mildewed robes, followed by the rhythmic hopping. Looking up at a large tilted monitor on a nearby trading post, I realized I could see a reflection of the creature hopping rapidly in my direction. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump! Pistachios! There was an opened bag of shelled pistachio nuts in the workstation. Some broker¡¯s nostalgic snack from a vending machine. I grabbed the bag and spilled the nuts out on the marble floor. They rolled chaotically, several dozen of them. The jiangshi stopped, its slippered feet idling before the scattered mess. Seizing the opportunity, I stood up and tried to get my bearings. Where were the stairs leading down to the lobby? Ah, there they were. I broke into a sprint. At once, the jiangshi chased after me. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Thump-thump-thump! Why couldn¡¯t you have counted the pistachios!? I guess my human breath was more enticing. Reaching the stone railing separating the trading floor from the lobby below, I didn¡¯t bother with taking the stairs. In a mad dash, I vaulted over the railing and sailed through the air, gun in hand, and slammed my leg hard on the ground below. ? Oww! Not a graceful landing. [Essence: 10 remaining] What? Are you kidding me? The pain in my leg was intense. I couldn¡¯t say it was broken, but definitely sprained. On the floor above, the hopping noise echoed louder and louder. I pushed myself up. It hurt to put pressure on my right leg. I wasn¡¯t sure I could make it to the exit doors in time. Spinning around, I noticed a glowing light emanating from a small alcove. Another room jutting off from the dark lobby. I hobbled toward the light. Maybe there was another door. Or something I could hide behind. But actually, I saw a series of vending machines. Three of them. Transparent glass windows showcased a wide selection of temperature controlled items for purchase. I got a crazy idea. THUMP! I twisted around and saw the jiangshi. It was in the lobby now, hopping straight toward me. Its long black fingernails reached out greedily. I fired a single round at its face, puncturing the hanging yellow talisman. It fell, crumbling again. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. [1 / 5 ammunition remaining] Ignoring the pile, I turned back to scrutinize the vending machines. If this was going to work¡­ I had one chance and one chance only. In the leftmost machine were several varieties of individually wrapped onigiri, among other options. Rice. Something about rice! And vinegar. Was onigiri made with vinegar? I tapped on the touchscreen panel to bring up the menu options. Ah, ingredients! I accessed the first option. The vending machine spoke in the grating artificial tone so familiar to me now. Ingredients: sushi rice, rice vinegar, salt, white sesame, nori, fish roe. The pile of dust and bones began to stir behind me. I smashed the onigiri option on the panel. The price is 10 Crypt. Please scan your payment source. I held my barcoded flesh to the sensor light and soon the triangular rice ball tumbled down the chute. I picked it up, ripping off the plastic covering. On a small table against the wall lay a variety of utensils, napkins, and condiments. I grabbed a pair of chopsticks and tore the paper covering off. I quickly knelt before the swirling pile, the jiangshi threatening to spring to non-life once more. One rigid pale hand was already emerging from the debris. I ripped the onigiri into tiny pieces with my bare hands, shoving and kneading them into the dust. Once the sticky rice was distributed in the pile, I used the chopsticks to mix it around vigorously, scattering the putrid ashes across the alcove. ? You like that? You like that yummy rice you piece of Shiva? I slid away from the pile, the two chopsticks sticking out like funerary incense. With my back against the glow of the vending machines, I materialized my dagger, holding it in one hand and aiming my revolver with the other. One bullet left. I watched for movement, not daring to blink. But this time it stayed down. And after about a minute of waiting, which felt like an eternity, the dust and bits of bone started to melt into an inky black ooze. In turn, that too evaporated. [Task Successfully Completed: Remove Jiangshi from Elysian Spires Financial District] Phew. Shimmering geometric shapes rose from the floor and floated in the air. Among them, a luminous rectangular prism. A data card! Bracing myself against a vending machine, I pulled myself to a standing position. The leg still hurt. Bad. But I limped forward to eagerly claim my prizes, releasing an audible sigh as I absorbed the goodies. [10 Crystals obtained] [Uncommon Data Card obtained - Jiangshi (Skill)] I smiled. A complete data card. No fragments to farm. And it was another skill card. I couldn¡¯t wait another moment to find out more about it. I opened my Inventory and concentrated on the card. [Data Card: Jiangshi Card Type: Skill Frequency: Uncommon Skill Details: Once per Cycle, absorb Energy up to your Adeptness from a creature you kill. Does not work during daytime / sunlit conditions. Skill Cost: N/A Size: 10 metabytes] Interesting. Checking my Statistics under my Ability submenu I saw I currently had an Adeptness rating of 10¨Cthe lowest possible score. I had previously theorized that higher Adeptness might improve my overall effectiveness with using skills. For at least this skill that theory was now confirmed. With increased Adeptness I could see this being very useful, although it was context specific. However, most of my hunting so far had been after dark. I limped across the lobby to the main doors. There was a 4,000 Crypt reward with my name, or at least my number, on it. 25.2 I flashed a peace sign to the nonplussed Polizei bots on my way out, not bothering to stop and answer their inquiries about the status of the invasive entity. Let those useless programs go find out for themselves. I headed straight for the nearest MAR station, as fast as I could limp. There I paid my 10 Crypt and boarded the Platinum Line back to the MAR Master Terminal. After waiting my turn, I approached the secondary Task Assignment Board and cashed in my bounty. [Task Complete: Remove Jiangshi from Elysian Spires Financial District Assigned to: Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Task Completion Award: 2,000 Crypt Bonus Award: 2,000 Crypt Would you like to receive payment?] I eagerly watched as my paltry sum of 60 Crypt inflated to 4,060. Immediately my imagination filled with all the things I could buy. But as I minimized the completed task on the large-paneled bounty board, something caught my attention. The minotaur bounty, from before. It was listed again. I could have sworn some other Volunteer had snatched it up. What did that mean? I selected the task to open it on the screen. [Task Assignment: Remove Minotaur from Grand Central Park in Eden West One {uncommon} Minotaur has been detected in the hedge maze within Grand Central Park in Eden West. Task Completion Award: 3,000 Crypt Do you accept this Task?] It was the exact same task. Did the minotaur respawn? Or had the Volunteer failed the mission? Maybe even died in the process. Eden West. I wasn¡¯t far. I would have to take the Platinum Line to the Gold Line, a 40 Crypt round trip, plus an eventual 10 Crypt for the Diamond Line back to The Commons. But geographically, whatever that meant in a metaverse, I was not far. Metagraphically? My leg was injured. My Essence was down, my Energy sucked off by a Chinese vampire. And I only had a single bullet left. But there was no time limit listed on this task. No bonus for a speedy resolution. Sure, why not. I¡¯ll accept the task. The only thing better than 4,000 Crypt was 7,000 Crypt. [Task Assigned - Remove Minotaur from Grand Central Park in Eden West] A hedge maze. I stepped away from the bounty board to make room for others. Then I heard a drumming sound from high above. Looking up at the arched, windowed ceilings of this large concourse, I saw pinkish ripples and spatters backdropped by a dark sky. It was raining. Instinctively I wanted to seek shelter. I knew this rain. Freezing and burning. Flooding and drowning. But as I looked about, nobody else seemed particularly concerned. Citizens stopped in their tracks and sat down on benches or at small tables throughout the hub. Volunteers likewise waited or took seats away from the Citizens, patiently watching the rain beat against the panes far overhead. A diminutive man with a pencil mustache and trenchcoat, with a throwing knife bandolier around his chest and throwing knife holsters strapped around each thigh, leaned nonchalantly against a nearby wall, checking his nails. Clearly not a Citizen. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ? Excuse me. He raised an eyebrow and looked in my direction but said nothing, resuming his inspection of his fingernails. ? The rain. The Cycle¡¯s about to change, isn¡¯t it? Why isn¡¯t anybody seeking shelter? Annoyed by my persistence in establishing communication, he straightened up and adjusted his bandolier. ¡°The Master Terminal is odin of the few places completely shielded from the rain. Gotta keep the trains running on raz, you know.¡± ? Right. Good to know. Thank you. He started to walk away. ? So just wait it out, then? Wait for the rain to clear? ¡°Do what you like, droogie. You won¡¯t get any benefits of the reset though just hanging about. Need a mesto to crash? Purgatory¡¯s ¡®cross the way. 100 Crypt per Cycle if you like.¡± The small figure pointed past the Task Assignment Boards, across the long open hall, to a doorway. It was on the opposite side of the concourse as the cubic storage lockers. The door simply had the emblem of halo, and a sign on the wall that read: No Citizens Beyond This Point. Curious, I crossed over to investigate. The door was firmly shut and locked, but I noticed a sensor subtly recessed in the wall. Scanning my Volunteer ID, I heard a click and I pushed the door open. Inside, a series of narrow sleeping capsules lined one wall, similar to the ones in the Residential Towers but more compact. I surmised this was a sort of hostel for Volunteers on the go. To one side was a cramped bar with a couple stools and a small seating area. A tall, hairless person with an exceptionally dark and rich skin tone distributed pre-packaged drinks from behind the bar. On the other side of the tight space were two large vendor panels: one hawking salves and medicaments, the other specializing in ammunition. ¡°Welcome to Purgatory.¡± It was the bartender, speaking with a neutral but deep timbre in an untraceable accent. ¡°Drink. Rest. Basic items.¡± ? 100 Crypt per Cycle? I pointed to the sleep capsules. ¡°That¡¯s correct. Choose any one that is free.¡± Not ideal, but I was a long way from home and needed to restore my Energy and Essence. I nodded to the bartender, or whatever role this person held. First I wanted to see what was available at the ammunition kiosk. Scrolling through the options on the screen I found individual .32 caliber cartridges for sale at 20 Crypt per bullet. That was expensive! I also found some basic accessories. There were belt slide ammo carriers, ammo pouches, ammo belts, and a variety of holsters. I didn¡¯t currently have a belt to attach a belt slide carrier onto, so I wasn¡¯t interested in that particular option. [Accessory: Revolver Ammunition Pouch Cost: 500 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: Snap top canvas pouch. Holds up to six cartridges, loose or attached to a speed load strip. Can be attached to your belt or kept in your pocket. Speed load strip sold separately. Size: 10 metabytes] [Accessory: Ammunition Belt Cost: 800 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: Standard black belt with twelve loops for individually securing cartridges in .22, .38/.357 or .44/.45 caliber. Size: 10 metabytes] [Accessory: Ambidextrous Revolver Shoulder Holster with Pouch Cost: 1000 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: A cross harness vertical shoulder holster with speed-loader pouch. Good for concealing a small or medium sized revolver. Adjustable for right-handed or left-handed users. Pouch holds up to six cartridges with speed load strip included. Size: 20 metabytes] Hmmm. It didn¡¯t look like my 5% discount would apply here. This wasn¡¯t the Armory. Also, the prices were rather high. Maybe they were charging extra because they could. No competition this far from The Commons. Convenience fee. Monopoly. Captive pricing. All that garbage. I definitely needed to at least replace my four spent cartridges. I also recognized that my snubnosed revolver only held five rounds, while larger ones typically held six. But all this could wait. I would sleep on it. I located an empty sleep capsule, scanned my code, and paid the 100 Crypt. Wincing as I put pressure on my injured leg, I crawled inside what was essentially a fluorescent coffin. And the rain continued to fall. 26 - Labyrinth Chapter 26 - Labyrinth I twisted the dial until the enveloping fluorescence dimmed to pitch darkness. I rested my aching body on the thin cushioned layer on the bottom of the capsule emulating a bed. No outside sounds penetrated these sterile walls. There could have been a swarm of boisterous Volunteers passing through Purgatory and I¡¯d have been oblivious. At long last I began to drift, to dissociate. My tired mind wandered somnambulantly through thick fog. Fog I could feel but not see. I groped in the chill. Morning mist. Vapor rising off the surface of placid water. Ripples lost in time. An errant splash. I heard the sound of laughter, infinitely distant. A child¡¯s voice. Where? Where is it coming from? Where are you? I wanted to call out, but I had no mouth. I felt an urgency to locate the source of that sound. Slowly, a visual formed in my mind¡¯s eye. But nothing that matched the innocence I chased. Something malevolent and overwhelming. A rictus grin stretching across the universe and a voice as deep and abyssal as the ocean floor. iIi kNoW wHaT yOu aRRRe I lay paralyzed in the dark. A great weight perched on my chest, pinning me down. My limbs locked in place. No. No. Not this. My bloodshot eyes ripped open. There was only the abominable smile, stretching larger than my perception, hanging in the black void. The mighty tectonic plates beneath the ocean floor rumbled once more. iIi KnOw WhAt YoU ArE I fought against the mental attack. I strained with every bone, every muscle, every nerve in my body. I pushed back against the apparition so hard I thought the chip in the back of my head would explode. yOU aRE a MONsTeR !!! Pain! Piercing into my brain like ice picks through the edges of my eye sockets. Overwhelming and disastrous. ]ERROR ||||lllIIII ERROR |IIIllll||| 01110011 01100001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01111001 00100000 01100100 01100001 01101101 01100001 01100111 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110011 01110100 01100001 01101001 01101110 01100101 01100100 -1%[ I blacked out. ¡­ An unknown span of time later, my eyes flicked open in the darkness. Shaking, I reached blindly for the dial. I couldn¡¯t find it. Forgetting where I was, I hit my head on the lower ceiling of the sleep capsule. Finally I located the controls and turned the light full blast. Alone. Alive. Confused. What¡­ what just happened? Deja vu. A half-remembered dream, swirling down the drain of awakening. Not my residence. Somewhere else. That¡¯s right, Purgatory. Deja vu, again. Or was it nostalgia, from the Greek word algos for pain, grief, and distress, combined with a derivative of neomai, to escape, to return home. A morbid longing for one¡¯s native country. Huh. That was a strange thought. I wonder what prompted that. A menu notification flashed in my vision, breaking my reverie. [Refresh complete. Essence restored. Energy at full.] The Cycle change. Right. Good. Essence and Energy back at full. But why did I still have this throbbing pain in my head? I dimmed the light part way and stretched out once more, concentrating on taking deep, slow breaths until the cranial sting subsided. As I lay I remembered my current assigned task. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. [TASKS Kill a minotaur. Okay, let me think about this. The Archives were out of reach. I wouldn¡¯t be able to do any research on my target. But the concept of a minotaur was familiar to me. A man with a bull¡¯s head. Right? Relatively straightforward. What else did I know? I thought it stemmed from Greek mythology. A monster that guarded a special place. Either that, or was used as a form of punishment against someone who displeased a god or king. That was honestly all I could think of. Dram. Did Volunteers or Citizens have access to any bookstores or libraries in The Collective? Finding a volume on Greek myths to keep stashed in my inventory couldn¡¯t hurt. My headache gone, I clambered out of my sleep capsule and stretched. The capsule door automatically shut behind me and locked. It would be another 100 Crypt if I wanted to use it again. But I had no plans on needing to do that. I walked over to the ammunition vending kiosk. I found myself running low or empty on multiple occasions, which was not good. But I also didn¡¯t want to get ripped off. I died earning that 5% discount at the Armory. It¡¯d be a shame not to take advantage of it. I resolved to shop for expanded ammo storage options upon my (triumphant?) return to The Commons. For now, I decided to buy the four bullets needed to refill my revolver, even with the inflated price. Four rounds for 80 Crypt. I gritted my teeth and completed the transaction. I was already down to 3,880 Crypt. But my ammunition, Energy, and Essence were full. And my sprained leg felt good as new. I checked my storage. [MEMORY Only 15 metabytes to play with. It was possible that any loot acquired during completing the minotaur bounty might exceed my carrying capacity. I could rent one of those storage cubes for 100 Crypt. Even if I died, whatever was in that box would be safe, even without a back up. Alternately, I could trigger my skill to burn 30 Energy and free up room if needed. Turning away from the limited shopping options, I noticed the diminutive man with the pencil mustache from the previous Cycle sitting at the table in Purgatory¡¯s modest seating area. He had several throwing knives laid out on a cloth and was concentrating on applying liquid from a vial on the tips of each, one at a time. Curious, I walked over to get a closer look. ¡°Keep your distance. This is deadly poison, it is. Don''t wanna get nicked by this nosh or another.¡± The man didn¡¯t look up from his work as he spoke. I did as instructed. ? Poisoned throwing knives? Interesting choice of weapon. He grunted a reply. At first I thought that was the end of the exchange, but after a while he elaborated. ¡°Some Volunteers messel themselves jack-of-all-trades types. Not me. Can¡¯t afford it. Had to specialize, I did. Stealth and poison. Nimble too. Plenty of Value sunk into my Agility stat. Thrown weapons, although there is a nice blow dart gun I¡¯ve been viddying at the starry Auction House.¡± ? What types of creatures do the poisons work on? ¡°Different poisons for different monsters. And some with no poison at all.¡± He held a knife up to the light, inspecting his work. Satisfied, he carefully tucked it into one of the straps on his bandolier. I thought it strange how, physically, the man appeared so much smaller than me. I had a generic, starter body, practically unchanged since my Orientation. Did this Volunteer really go through the body modification process, likely expensive, to alter his physical frame? And not to buff up, as I had seen other body types, but to reduce? I didn¡¯t quite know how to bring it up. ? Thanks for the tip about Purgatory. I¡¯m Magpie, by the way. He just nodded, finishing his work and meticulously stowing each throwing knife in its right place. Didn¡¯t bother to share his name with me. It was probably something embarrassingly obvious, like Knives or Poison or something. ? Are¡­ you on your way to complete a Task? He stood up, dematerializing the vial of liquid into his inventory and smoothing his trenchcoat. ¡°No bounty. Heading out to Eden West to farm some kappas.¡± ? Eden West? Me too. I¡¯m going to Grand Central Park. ¡°Same as me. Those dram kappa can¡¯t keep out of the koi ponds, the greedy buggers. Don¡¯t tell me you have a bounty on some kappa. Then we might have a problem, you and me.¡± ? Not at all. Don¡¯t even know what those are. I¡¯m hunting a minotaur. Supposed to be in a hedge maze there. ¡°I know the place. You hunting A minotaur or THE minotaur?¡± ? Excuse me? What¡¯s the difference? ¡°One¡¯s a noun, one¡¯s a proper noun, innit? What¡¯s the frequency of your bounty?¡± ? Uncommon. ¡°Just a minotaur then. The minotaur, Asterion, gotta be rare at least, maybe even legendary. Only found in a proper labyrinth. But a regular starry minotaur¨Cthey pop up in all kinds of mazes. They¡¯re drawn to them. Linked.¡± Linked. ? Have you fought one? ¡°Nah. Seen Vols killed by them before. They are tough. But nothing special. Just a contest of strength really, if you¡¯re into that. Gotta watch those horns.¡± To illustrate his point, the man lifted two fingers above his head and pantomimed a charging motion. A tough, physical opponent. How many shots from a revolver would put down a charging bull in the real world? I needed to come up with a solid strategy before wandering into that maze. There was one idea that came to mind. ? Since we¡¯re both heading to the same place, what if we made a deal? I¡¯ll help you farm your cap-uhs, or whatever they¡¯re called, and you help me kill this minotaur. 26.1 The knife-wielding Volunteer was amenable to my suggestion. After further preparation we left Purgatory. I followed his lead in boarding the Platinum Line back out in the direction of Elysian Spires, leaving the MAR Master Terminal behind. We then transferred to the Gold Line and rode it down until we reached Eden West. I still didn¡¯t know his name, and he did not appear eager to share it. The sleeves of his coat obscured the ID tag on his wrist, although he did flash it at the station to pay the fare. It would have just been meaningless numbers to me. He indicated that he had some sort of transit pass¨Cunlimited travel for a set period. If I wanted, I too could purchase one at the Master Terminal. For now, that was another 20 Crypt. We rode in silence in the rear of a half-empty train car. Several Citizens in crisp linen suits sat or stood up front, away from the dangerous riff raff come to do the dirty work. Daylight shone so warm and bright through the windows it was hard to believe it was artificial as we pulled into a more idyllic station than I expected. Now arriving at Eden West Station. We deboarded and I followed my temporary companion through an urban yet thoroughly domestic environment. A gentrification, a neo-suburban reclaiming of a dense historical section of an industrialized city. The truth was that there had never been any urban blight to reclaim. Not in a place like this. It was a thoroughly planned community with chic, walled-off homes and private gardens. Intentionally designed, connected by elegant walkways. There was only a mirage of historicity here. We passed through multiple blocks until we reached the edge of an enormous park, stretching far to the left and right opposite a pedestrian-friendly street. ¡°Here it is. Grand Central Park.¡± Strange musical notes carried in the air. I looked through spring foliage and flowering trees to glimpse a quaint, old world amusement park. An elegant carousel with bobbing animals completed its melodic revolutions. A golden drop tower ride plunged beyond the treetops. Scents of popcorn and cotton candy assaulted the nostrils. And the laughter of children. What? Crossing the street, I followed the other Volunteer on a path winding through the immense park. And indeed, through a wrought iron fence off to our left I saw what looked to be multiple parents holding the hands of their children, enjoying the amusements. One child in a spring dress held a red balloon by the string, a joyful expression on her freckled face. ? This is¡­ I had no idea. There are children in The Collective? My companion grunted. ¡°Could be. Don¡¯t trust everything you viddy.¡± ? What do you mean by that? ¡°I meant what I said and I said what I meant. This mesto gives me the creeps.¡± We crossed over an arching red bridge. Below, I saw couples enjoying dragon-themed paddle boats in a small lake. An unexpected anxiety gripped my heart. I suddenly wanted to change the subject. Distract myself. ? Tell me again what you¡¯re farming and how I can help. ¡°Kappas. Turtle chellovecks.¡± ? Turtles? ¡°Like I said, they keep spawning ¡®round here and try to eat the koi fish out of the ponds near the gardens. Have a taste for human flesh too. But the veshch they love most¡­ is cucumbers.¡± ? Cucumbers? Without looking back at me the man materialized a small green vegetable in his hand and held it aloft. Nothing remarkable about it. Just an ordinary cucumber. ¡°They can¡¯t resist. They¡¯ll even beg for them. They can learn human language, you know. So oomny yet so gloopy.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ? What frequency are they? ¡°Common.¡± ? Why farm them? You said you don¡¯t have a bounty, so you can¡¯t be getting paid. The man stopped in the middle of the footpath and turned to eye me suspiciously. ¡°I¡¯ve got my reasons, haven¡¯t I? Every so often the kappas drop something of value. That¡¯s what I¡¯m after. Don¡¯t care about any cards or fraggies. We can split the Crystals for all I care. But any materials they drop is mine. Got it?¡± ? Fine by me. Then you¡¯ll help me dispatch the minotaur? He nodded and we continued. The winding path carried us deeper into the park. The trees were larger now. The foliage denser. A grassy ramble with scattered picnickers and kite-flyers gave way to something older. We crossed another bridge over a small creek and I noticed several decorative stone lanterns dotting the trailside. I now saw no Citizens anywhere. The short man raised a hand in the air, then silently motioned to a large felsic rock off to one side of the path. I followed him and we sat down. Peering through jutting bamboo he pointed to a series of ponds connected by elegant wooden bridges and stepping stones. Wide lilly pads covered the surface and brilliant orange and white fish flashed underneath. Beyond the ponds and past a stretch of manicured lawn was a walled garden with a stone archway. I could see green hedges beyond. The hedge maze! I could also glimpse caution tape and a security barricade warning off Citizens, but I saw no Polizei bots. My companion spoke in a hush. ¡°There. You viddy that ripple?¡± I turned my attention back to the nearest pond. I noticed nothing unusual. Nothing that couldn¡¯t be attributed to a leaping fish. I shook my head. ¡°There¡¯s a kappa in there for sure. They can breathe underwater, so we gotta lure it out. Don¡¯t wanna spar a kappa in the water. They can drown you, bite you, even try to ultra violence you.¡± Ultra violence? Maybe I didn¡¯t want to know. ? So we use the cucumber to get it on dry land? ¡°Just right. If there¡¯s just odin I don¡¯t need your help. But if we run into a pack I could use you. Just need a peet first.¡± To my surprise, the man materialized a travel thermos out of his inventory. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig. It smelled like freshly brewed herbal tea, and I could see a trail of steam rising from the top. ? Are you serious? ¡°It¡¯s a lucky chasha of chai, innit?¡± ? Lucky chai. Is that anything like a Tincture of Fortune? ¡°That it is. But it lasts a lot longer and tastes a lot better. Need to increase my odds of finding what I¡¯m after. Don¡¯t wanna be out here all day cutting open turtle shells.¡± I waited patiently while the man finished his hot tea. He didn¡¯t offer me any, not that I felt thirsty now or ever. He seemed invigorated by the drink and ready for action. I recalled the Tincture of Fortune increased ¡®the probability of obtaining Crystals and discovering items of higher rarity for 600 seconds.¡¯ I wondered what exact benefits this other concoction conferred. He put the thermos away and stood up, suddenly brandishing a large knife I had not seen before. Not a throwing knife, but a sturdy 6-inch blade. I tensed at the sight, but the man turned and was staring at the nearby pond again. Curious, I carefully reached out and tried to highlight the weapon without touching it, seeing if I could learn what it was through this method. [Hybrid Hunting Knife] Realizing what I had done, he quickly moved the knife away from my reach. ¡°Keep your grubby system functions away from my nosh, right? Now stay hidden and watch what I do. If it¡¯s an ambush, come join the spar.¡± With that, he quickly moved off through the bamboo thicket towards the first pond. He was nimble, as advertised, and his small stature made it easy for him to navigate through the environment. I watched as he held the knife behind his back with one hand and placed the cucumber on the ground, taking several steps back and waiting. This time I did detect increased rippling in the water, followed by subtle splashing. Seconds later, a slimy green object broke the surface of the pond. It was a head¡­ of sorts. A round, human-sized reptilian head, complete with sharp, hooked beak and round, flat eyes that held a predatory gleam. Most disturbing to me was the top of the head. It was hollowed out like a dish, like someone had partially scalped this creature. The indentation in the skull was full of fluid, or water, that sloshed about ever so slightly as it swam toward the edge. I had the impression of a raw egg yolk in a bowl. Stringy black humanoid hair hung from the sides of its crown, dripping with pond water. ¡°Ky¨±ri? Ky¨±ri?¡± the creature chirped, cautiously emerging from the murky pool. I saw now that it was the size of a small person, a bit larger than my companion but not as tall as me. It walked on two legs with a hunched posture. Its hands and feet were webbed claws, and the slickness of algae clung to its green skin and chelonian shell. The creature cocked its head to one side. I heard the wetness of its feet slapping against the grass as it scuttled toward the other Volunteer. ¡°Ky¨±ri?¡± A system notification chirped. [{common} entity detected - Kappa] 26.2 I watched as the other Volunteer stood his ground as the shambling, wet humanoid approached, lured by the delectable cucumber laying in the grass between them. Then to my surprise the Volunteer gave a deep, polite bow. The kappa stopped in place. Then I watched as it returned the gesture, bowing low. As it did, I noticed some of the water in the bowl-shaped depression in its head spill out. The kappa hissed. Its body and limbs jerked awkwardly. In a swift movement, the Volunteer drew his 6-inch blade and made a quick slit across the creature¡¯s throat. It grabbed at its neck with its webbed claws, falling to the ground as it desperately tried to hold the spurting blood in place. ¡°Quick! Get over here!¡± He was calling me. I left my observation spot behind the bamboo and hurried to the Volunteer¡¯s side. He laid the incapacitated creature on the back of its shell and seized one of its kicking legs. ¡°Grab the other noga and help me pull it away from the pond!¡± I did, gripping a leg that was simultaneously nodular and slimy. The creature smelled awful. Pungent. Like befouled mud and stagnant lake water. Together, we easily slid the wet kappa back behind the bamboo thicket. ¡°Best to do it here in case any others are spying from the water.¡± Red blood gurgled from the creature¡¯s open throat and its flat eyes rolled back in its head. The jerking movements continued, but the creature seemed to have almost no strength left in it. My companion stabbed his blade hard into the creature¡¯s soft-shelled belly, cutting down the center of the plate towards the groin. All the while the creature writhed and gurgled pitifully. Then the Volunteer pierced the creature¡¯s side, cutting around the perimeter of the shell. I could tell he had done this many times before. I watched with mounting disgust as the Volunteer peeled the soft shell of the stomach away, revealing a mass of pulpy organs and elongated arms oddly attached in the center of its torso. The creature smelled worse on the inside than the outside. I tried not to inhale. Blood sticking to both of his hands, the Volunteer carefully wiped his brow with the back of sleeve and stood up, shaking viscera from his blade. He shook his head. ¡°Nope. Not here.¡± As the creature¡¯s life force finally drained away, it began to shudder and glow. A scant few motes of light rose up from the disintegrating corpse, shining bright even in the daylight. My nameless companion scrutinized the floating objects and shrugged apathetically. ¡°Take ¡®em.¡± ? But I didn¡¯t do anything. ¡°That¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t need ¡®em.¡± I reached out and received into myself the following: [1 Crystal obtained] [Common Data Card Fragments obtained - Kappa - 2/10] ¡°We¡¯ll give it a minute, then try one of the other ponds.¡± ? The same thing? ¡°Until I find what I¡¯m looking for. I brought extra cucumbers just in case.¡± ? Don¡¯t the kappas catch on to what you¡¯re doing? The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°They are very predictable creatures. If you bow, they are obliged to bow back. The water in their sara¨Cthat is the source of their strength. If it spills, they are significantly weakened. Now if another kappa sees me attacking its kin all bets are off. But odin at a raz these veshches are pushovers if you know what to do.¡± ? Cucumbers and compulsory bowing. Not very sporting, is it? The man glared up at me and that was the end of the conversation. After a sufficient amount of time passed, the knife-wielding Volunteer was at it again. He selected a different pond, approaching from another angle, but all the subsequent steps were the same. Bait, bowing, and butchering. I didn¡¯t ask why he bothered cutting open the creatures as he did. If there was some special material they dropped, wouldn¡¯t they do so upon death? Why slice them apart in the midst of their death throes? After three or four of the kappas met a similar fate, I actually began to feel sorry for the disgusting creatures. By that time, we had split the meager Crystals, my total share being five, and I had saved up eight out of ten data card fragments. I could tell my companion was growing impatient, but on the next kill he found what he was searching for. Cutting away and removing the shell protecting the kappa¡¯s belly, the Volunteer plunged his hand into the very center of the slimy guts and triumphantly pulled out a hard, round ball, vaguely shaped like a small onion. The kappa let out a final shriek of indignity before shuffling off this coil, netting me a ninth card fragment in the process. [Alert! Account storage almost full.] Not now. I was more curious about this elusive object that had warranted so much violent turtle-man processing. ? All this work for a¡­ whatever that thing is? His former impatience melted away by his success, my companion relaxed and even broke a smile. He hadn¡¯t even had to use one of his many poison-dipped throwing knives. I silently wondered how long this would have taken had he not ingested that lucky tea. ¡°It¡¯s a shirikodama, innit? Smot it up some raz.¡± Shirikodama. Got it. Not really. I made a mental note as he carefully added the bizarre prize to his inventory. ? Since you know so much about kappas, what does a completed data card get you? ¡°Pretty underwhelming. You can forge it into a very specific lomtcik of armor. A helm. Basically your own version of a kappa¡¯s sara. When the bowl on top is full of water, it grants a hefty strength and resistance bonus. Very impractical though. I knew a Volunteer who transmuted it into a beer peeting shlem. Had the same effect, but made him look like a total gloopy nazz.¡± ? Transmuted it into what? ¡°You know, the shlapas that hold beer cans on your gulliver. Like this?¡± He pantomimed holding two objects on either side of his head for illustration. It seemed the more he spoke, the less I understood. But I think I got the picture of a novelty beer drinking hat. I vaguely remembered the Export and Transmute options at the Data Forge, the latter function allowing you to ¡®transform the cosmetic appearance of an item, weapon, or armor.¡¯ It did seem worthless to have to balance a bowl of water on your head, unless one was gifted with preternatural balance or found some other loophole or workaround. I didn¡¯t have a complete data card either way, but I could always try to sell, trade, or recycle it if I couldn¡¯t find a good use. ¡°You helped me. Raz to return the favor. Wanna take a gander at this hedge maze?¡± I nodded. He dematerialized his hunting knife and we walked beyond the ponds. The splashing koi fish were now safe at least, although I kept a watchful eye so as not to be set upon by any vengeful kappas. Soon we crossed over the wide lawn and approached the walled-off garden. A park within a park. Up close, the stone walls were much taller than I had realized. The green hedges beyond the ornate archway were thick, impenetrable to the eye. A plate affixed to the stone wall at the entrance simply read: Grand Central Park Hedge Maze. We slipped past the caution tape and stood in the entrance. The hedge walls loomed taller than me, and certainly taller than my companion. The dense greenery cast the maze in permanent shade, despite the bright daylight conditions outside. It was quiet, save for a gentle breeze rustling against stiff leaves. You could hardly see into the maze before the pathways turned off at ninety degree angles. The Volunteer tapped me on the arm. I looked down and saw him holding up a small ceramic container for me to take. ? More poison? ¡°No. Put it on your plot. Trust me.¡± Put it on? I cautiously accepted the container and turned it over in my hand. It wasn¡¯t ceramic after all but some sort of hardened leather. I could feel the weight of liquid inside, and the top was stopped with a cork. I highlighted the item and concentrated on it. [Shadowfoot Ointment] 26.3 - (supersized chapter!) Shadowfoot Ointment? I watched as my companion produced an identical container, pulled the stoppage, and sprinkled the contents over his person. Then he took a single step into the shade of the hedge maze. At once his body grew dark, blending into the shadows. Ah. Now I understand. I copied his action, dousing myself with the oily liquid. It smelled of midnight. There was no obvious effect until I too stepped into the shade of the hedges. A sort of context-specific camouflage. Curious, I opened my Menu and scrolled down to my Status submenu. Sure enough, the active effect was listed. [STATUS I hovered over Shadow Concealment to access additional information. [Shadow Concealment (active - 895 seconds remaining): this status effect increases visual concealment in dark conditions for 900 seconds.] Quick mental math. 15 minutes. Having been emptied of its substance, the ceramic container disintegrated into pixelated vapor and was gone. ¡°Ready to go in? Spy on your bezoomy scoteena?¡± I nodded, catching his drift. We could try and locate the minotaur within the maze without being detected and suss out an advantage. The minotaur would be physically strong, but the two of us should be able to take it. I had already witnessed the formidable skills of the knife-wielder. The sounds of the outside park muted the deeper we went into the maze. The warmth of the afternoon daylight sequence too faded to a twilight chill. We had scarcely taken a left turn when the twisted path veered off again at a sharp right angle. The hedges smelled faintly of dampness and old growth, a hint of something rotting just beneath the surface. Visually concealed though I was, I had to be careful as my tactical boots trod over dry earth. My nimble companion made almost no sound as he glided through the maze ahead of me. However, we shortly ran into a dead end and had to double back. The pathways were deceptively wide at first, but as we ventured further, they narrowed, the hedges pressing in around us. Visually, the green on green looked the same, and after several turns and splitting paths I was thoroughly disoriented by the silent walls of leaves. ? Hear anything? Any movement? I asked in a whisper, and the other Volunteer answered with a shake of his head. He stopped to prod and probe the hedge wall, seeking a space to perhaps squeeze through with his small frame. No such luck. Growing concerned, I checked the remaining time on the status effect. [599 seconds remaining] We had been wandering for five minutes. Just how large was this maze? But finally we spotted a landmark. Or I should say that I did. My taller height afforded me the advantage to see the top of a white structure peeking over the hedges. ? There is something over there. A building. I don¡¯t know how to reach it, but if I can keep it in sight we can work our way towards it. We walked down a long stretch of the maze and turned right. Another dead end. Shiva. We doubled back and went the other way until we reached a left turn, moving us concentrically closer to the landmark. As we neared, my companion flashed a hand signal for us to stop. He leaned against the closest hedge and cupped his hand to his ear. With his superior Perception stat he had detected a sound. I strained to listen. On the other side of the wall there was a slight scuffing noise. Even a snort. The minotaur was close! With a finger to his lips, the knife-wielder led us cautiously forward, stopping at a final opening and leaning around the corner. There was a clearing in the middle of the maze. Unlike the shady hedge rows, sunlight illuminated this middle space. In the center of the clearing was a round building made of elegant white stone. A narrow black staircase wound around the outside of the building to the roof, which was enclosed by a small black railing. It was an observation tower overlooking the maze, about one story in height, and in the middle of the roof stood a marble statue of Minerva. Green ivy clung to the sides of the building, hanging past small glass-paned windows. A heavy wooden door, padlocked, led into the interior of the modest structure. And there was the creature! [{uncommon} entity detected - Minotaur] The minotaur had the body of a human male, incredibly muscular, and naked¨Ccomplete with large (uncircumcised) genitalia. It possessed the head of a bull, with two intimidating pointed horns, as well as a bull¡¯s cordlike tail. However, it had the large feet of a man. I was expecting hooves. I crouched, looking through the opening in the hedge just behind the other Volunteer. I watched in wonder and apprehension as this creature pawed the ground with its bare feet. Scattered on the ground were white bones, picked clean of flesh. A human ribcage, a broken pelvis, and other miscellaneous remains. Did the minotaur possess human intelligence, raw animal instinct, or some combination thereof? Without warning the creature raised its thick tail and defecated where it stood. A large pile of acrid feces tumbled from its naked human buttocks onto the floor of the maze. It continued stalking about its territory as if nothing had happened. Yeah, definitely getting an animal instinct vibe here. I saw that the other Volunteer was holding a strange Y-shaped stick or rod, and pointing it at the observation tower in the center of the clearing. He appeared intensely curious about it, practically ignoring the horned menace standing in the way. So far the minotaur had not noticed us. I whispered a question in my companion¡¯s ear. ? What is the plan? ¡°That veshch has about 160 Essence. Some bits are tougher than others giving it an extra 10 defense. I can soften it up but if you want credit for the kill you need to finish it off.¡± 160 Essence? How could he possibly know that? I hadn¡¯t even realized the invasive entities had measurable Essence in the same way we did. Some more quick math. With my revolver and current Accuracy stat, I would deal 40 damage per shot that I landed, not counting the +10% fire damage. But with a defensive output of 10 on its tougher parts, not all of the damage would get through. So the maximum damage I could deal with my five rounds, if I didn¡¯t miss, and if I hit the minotaur¡¯s most vulnerable areas, would be 200 (not counting fire damage). I drew my revolver. It glowed briefly red with its infernal fusion. The minotaur snorted loudly and twisted its bulky head in our direction. It had a crazed look in its large bovine eyes, fixating on the fading red shine of my revolver. It released an unearthly bellow and charged. ¡°New plan. Run!¡± I dove to the left out of the way of the charging creature and my companion adroitly rolled to the right. The minotaur crashed through the edge of the hedge wall, horns first, sending broken branches and leaves flying. It slipped, skidding on the dirt part, and scrambled to right itself again. Shiva on a stick! I got up and sprinted down the corridor as the minotaur gave chase. I didn¡¯t know how well it could see me, but it was still chasing me. I ran to the end of the row and made a quick turn, then another, then another. I could hear the pounding of feet as the snorting, bellowing beast gained on me. I found myself standing in a long open pathway. The next turn in the path was a distance away. I ran as fast as I could, cursing my Speed of 20. The minotaur rounded the corner behind me and lowered its horns, stamping the ground and readying to charge. This thing could easily run me down, gore me, trample me to the death. I have to reach that turn! There was another tremendous bellow as the beast broke into a dash, head lowered. I ran with all my might, imagining the pricking points of those horns digging into my back. Reaching the end of the row, I threw myself around the sharp corner. Into a dead end! Frag me! But the minotaur¡¯s momentum was so great that it smashed straight through the hedge beside me, tearing a hole through into another pathway. Without waiting, I turned and ran in the direction I had just come, doubling back. But I soon got turned around, taking rapid turn after turn in the maze, until I no longer knew where I was in relation to the minotaur, the entrance, or the tower in the center. I paused to catch my breath, straining to listen. I could still hear the creature moving about somewhere. I only hoped it was as lost as I was. Okay. Look for the tower. Look for the white stone peeking over the top of the hedges. Make your way back and regroup with Little Knifey. (Hey, I had to call him something until I discovered more permanent identifying information.) Prioritizing stealth over speed, I carefully made my way through the maze again. I listened for the creature, looked for signs of scattered leaves and broken hedges, and searched for a glimpse of the white tower. There it is! My lighthouse guiding me back to the center. I entered the clearing just as my Shadow Concealment ended. My body and clothing abruptly resumed their normal shade. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. [Shadow Concealment elapsed] To my surprise, I saw Little Knifey crouched in front of the heavy wooden door at the base of the tower. It looked like he was trying to pick the padlock. I hurried to his side. ? What are you doing?! ¡°What does it smot like? There''s something dorogoy in here. Did you kill the korova yet?¡± He didn¡¯t have to wait for an answer as the minotaur entered the clearing a moment later. It bellowed once more and stamped the ground. Its wide eyes bulged with rage and a stream of white spittle ran from its mouth. My companion dropped his lockpicks and scurried away. But I stood my ground, facing down the beast. I had an idea. I quickly dematerialized and rematerialized my revolver, taunting the minotaur with the brief red glow. It charged at me full force. Shooom. [Clurichaun skill activated. 30 seconds remaining] [Energy: 0 remaining] I waited precious seconds, the illusory image and I overlapping as one. As the minotaur rapidly closed the distance, smashing bits of discarded bone as it ran, I sidestepped and darted up the black winding stairs. The whole tower shook as the minotaur collided with the heavy door. I gripped the railing as I stumbled from the quaking impact. The sound of splintering wood and breaking metal hinges reverberated through the clearing. I turned and looked down. The minotaur was stuck! Its horns were buried in the thick wood of the partially broken-in door. It grunted and snorted, flexing its powerful legs, trying to rip its horns free. A small throwing knife impaled itself in the creature¡¯s exposed back. The minotaur released a guttural cry of rage and pain. Little Knifey approached, watching the beast carefully. ¡°Paralysis poison!¡± Soon, the minotaur began to stiffen, its struggle dwindling until it remained standing dumbly in place, its horns locked into the door. The image of myself, superimposed over the trapped beast, dissipated. [Clurichaun skill elapsed. 30 seconds until recharge] I climbed down the stairway and stood beside the other Volunteer. He withdrew the throwing knife with a spurt of blood and tucked it back in place on one of his thigh holsters. I kept my distance from the minotaur¡¯s legs, as they had been kicking and stamping moments before. But now all motion ceased, except for a rhythmic rising and falling of breath. The Volunteer chuckled to himself, materializing his hybrid hunting knife and standing behind the beast. I held my revolver ready. Little Knifey grabbed the minotaur¡¯s thick tail and sawed it off, dangling it in the air like a snake before dropping it to the ground. ¡°Not so tough now, are you?¡± Then, to my unfortunate surprise, Little Knifey reached around and castrated the minotaur, cutting his testicles clean off with the 6-inch blade. Ropes of blood dripped down between the creature¡¯s human legs. Completely paralyzed, the minotaur exhibited no reaction or resistance. Shiva on a stick!!! The other Volunteer smiled sickly, enjoying this butchery. What a sadistic buzzard. ? That¡¯s enough! Let me end this. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Weak brooko? I softened him up for you.¡± I stood beside the minotaur, placing the barrel of my gun to its temple. One large bovine eye rotated in its head, looking at me. Was that sadness I detected? Resignation? Turning my head away from any potential splatter, I pulled the trigger twice, delivering the coup de gras. The creature¡¯s eye glazed over as my shots smoldered within its skull. [3 / 5 ammunition remaining] [Task Successfully Completed: Remove Minotaur from Grand Central Park in Eden West] I stepped back and watched as the body slowly began to shudder and glow. I couldn¡¯t help feeling unnerved by the whole situation. Soon, motes of light rose up and hovered in the air. Less enthusiastically than usual, I reached out and accepted them. [5 Crystals obtained] [Uncommon Data Card Fragments obtained - Minotaur - 6/10] As the corpse of the invasive entity began to melt away, I checked my Inventory. [INVENTORY Next I checked my Economy submenu. [ECONOMY Lastly, I checked my Memory submenu to determine my storage situation. I burned 30 Energy to activate my Clurichaun skill, temporarily freeing up space. [MEMORY I looked back at the scattered human bones in the clearing. ? Do you think it was eating people? Could those bones be from a Volunteer, or even a Citizen? Little Sadist shrugged his shoulders. ¡°The farther you are from the Restoration Point, the longer it takes to respawn. For Citizens? Who fragging knows.¡± The other Volunteer was disinterested, looking past me at the stone observation tower. With the minotaur gone, I saw that the heavy wooden door was ajar. One of the hinges was broken and the padlock torn from its place. ? You¡­ you said there was something inside here? ¡°Something dorogoy, I think. Maybe worth a lot of pretty polly. Let''s take a quick smot.¡± I dematerialized my weapon. Together, we pushed hard against the broken door, forcing it open the rest of the way. While the building served as an observation platform to look over the hedge maze, the interior was obviously a gardener¡¯s shed or workshop. It was full of garden tools and implements, including gardening gloves, trowels, a hoe and rake, a coiled rubber hose, empty planter pots, bags of decorative gravel, and bags of soil and fertilizer. A few benches and storage shelves lined the circular room, while a rustic wooden table was against the far wall. Three small windows dotted the walls below the ceiling. On the rustic table lay a large vellum-bound book. Old paper pages of varying sizes jutted out of the thick covers. [invasive anomaly detected] Invasive anomaly? That book¡­ I took a step deeper into the space when all of a sudden I felt a sharp prick in my side, between the gap of my Ballistic Vest. ? Ouch. What was¡­ Suddenly I felt the blood in my veins start to coagulate. My muscles stiffened, one by one. My limbs became unresponsive. My heart sank as I realized what had happened. Withdrawing the tip of the knife, the other Volunteer walked past me. He wore a concerned expression as he looked up from his lower height. ¡°I''m sorry, droogie. It''s not personal. But I can''t let you have that book.¡± The dram buzzard! The mother fragger! He paralyzed me! ¡°Too rare a treasure, innit it? You wouldn¡¯t even know what to do with such a veshch. Don¡¯t worry, the paralysis will wear off eventually. But a slovo of warning¨Cdon¡¯t try to come after me.¡± I stood, helplessly frozen in place. I tried to materialize my gun, my dagger, anything. If I could have, I would have shot this man in the head, stabbed him a hundred times. The fury and hate I felt welling up were overwhelming. The same sadistic urges I had silently judged him for now surged within me. The Volunteer went to the table and opened the book, carefully thumbing through its contents. He was absorbed by the anomaly, whatever it was. I realized I could still access my Menu. This mental action was free, unconstrained by my physical paralysis. I quickly accessed my Status submenu to see if the paralysis was listed. It was. [STATUS I stretched my mind, concentrating on the status ailment. [Paralysis (active - 230 seconds remaining): this status ailment causes major motor functions to cease for 300 seconds.] Major motor functions. I could still move my eyes. I could feel my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I could even¡­ just barely¡­ twitch one of my fingers. I heard Little Backstabber cursing to himself. Soon, he began materializing and haphazardly dumping miscellaneous objects on the ground. I realized he was overencumbered! He must not have enough storage space to add that mysterious book to his Inventory. Serves you right! There was a wet slapping noise outside. Then another. A hiss, and a creaky cackling sound. The other Volunteer turned, looking past me with annoyance. He drew a throwing knife from the bandolier on his chest and flung it in my direction. It whizzed right by me and struck something fleshy. More rapid slapping sounds now. I could sense multiple things approaching from behind. Something with a strong, pungent odor. Oh no. Kappas! Somehow kappas must have wandered into the hedge maze! The Volunteer glanced back at me a final time. ¡°Appy-polly loggies.¡± With that, he scrambled onto the table and undid a latch, pushing open one of the windows. Anomalous book tucked under his arm, he wriggled his small body through the window. Two loose sheaths of paper fell from the book and drifted to the floor. Then he was gone. Multiple kappas swarmed up behind me. I tried to frantically move, but I couldn¡¯t. Their foul stench was astounding. I checked the timer on my status ailment. [207 seconds remaining] Not good. I braced myself for the worst. But to my confusion and relief, three kappas shuffled past me with their hunched gait, moving deeper into the garden shed. They went to the pile of objects that the cowardly backstabber had dropped, digging through the refuse. ¡°¡°Ky¨±ri?¡± one of the creatures chirped. ¡°Ky¨±ri! Ky¨±ri!¡± the others answered. I strained to focus my eyes and saw the kappas picking cucumbers out of the pile, eagerly munching on the vegetal delicacies. Oh bog, I hoped they stayed distracted for long enough. I counted down the remaining time¨Cthe minutes stretching on forever. [100 seconds remaining] Feeling and motion were gradually restored to my extremities, starting with my fingers and toes. I could even scrunch my nose in response to the swampy aroma permeating the enclosed space. The kappas finished their cucumbers and sifted deeper through the pile of discarded objects, searching for more. [20 seconds remaining] [10 seconds remaining] [5 seconds remaining] The paralysis elapsed, and I breathed a quick sigh of relief. The monsters hadn¡¯t turned their attention to me. But I saw those two mysterious pages lying near their huddle, where they had fallen from the stolen book. I had to get them. I just had to. Tip toeing, I circled around the feasting creatures and stretched to pick the pages off the dirt floor. The nearest kappa turned and hissed a warning at me, but did not attack. [{rare} anomaly obtained - Unknown Voynich Manuscript Page] [{rare} anomaly obtained - Unknown Voynich Manuscript Page] Then I turned, giving the kappas as wide a berth as possible in the small space, and made for the door. I saw a dead kappa lying outside the tower, a poison knife buried in its eye socket. A single mote of light hovered above the corpse and I grabbed it. [Common Data Card Fragment obtained - Kappa - 1/10] Stooping, I also carefully picked up the discarded throwing knife, pulling it from the kappa¡¯s head. I wasn¡¯t sure if the tip was still poisoned, but I was sure this poison would be of a more lethal variety. As the kappa¡¯s body dissolved into an inky puddle, I started retracing my steps to find the maze¡¯s exit. 27 - Upgrades Chapter 27 - Upgrades I traveled through the bourgeois suburban landscape on my way to the Eden West MAR Station, constantly on guard for any signs of the elusive Volunteer whose name I didn¡¯t know. On the other side of the street a mother and son passed on the sidewalk, walking a meticulously groomed pharaoh hound on a leash attached to a bejeweled collar. I glanced in their direction. For a split second, one or more of the figures almost seemed to skip a frame, like some visual glitch had occurred. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I¡¯m tired. My mind must be playing tricks on me. I boarded the bullet train, taking the Gold Line to the Platinum Line back in the direction of the MAR Master Terminal. All the while I sat in the train car I brooded violently over the betrayal. I fantasized about finding that little man, bludgeoning him, strangling him, drowning him. I¡¯ve got to get a grip. The truth was I didn¡¯t stand a chance against him. Not yet. I wasn¡¯t strong enough. Wasn¡¯t skilled enough. Wasn¡¯t equipped enough to exact revenge. I thought of the paralysis poison. Had I higher statistical value invested in Resistance, might I have withstood or avoided that status ailment? Might I have recovered faster? I gnawed my lower lip in frustration. I had one of the Volunteer¡¯s throwing knives tucked away under my Equipment menu. Maybe I could use that to somehow track him down. But why bother? Maybe this fixation on vengeance was a waste of time. A distraction from what I really needed to do. At least he had only temporarily paralyzed me. He could have used much deadlier poison if that was his intention. He did leave me to the mercy of ravenous kappas though¡­ Wanting to spend as little time at the Master Terminal as possible, I quickly transferred to the Diamond Line in the direction of The Commons. The three rides cost me a total of 30 Crypt. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Now arriving at The Commons Station. Finally I returned to my dismal home, which right now I found oddly comforting. Or at least familiar. I walked the neon-bathed streets under the perpetually dark sky, heading in the direction of the Task Assignment Boards. I was ready to draw any and all weapons at the slightest provocation. [Task Complete: Remove Minotaur from Grand Central Park in Eden West Assigned to: Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001. Task Completion Award: 3,000 Crypt Would you like to receive payment?] Yes, dram it. The 3,000 Crypt streamed into the chip in the back of my head, bringing my new total to 6,830. I would reserve 100 for my next data backup, but right now I had some decisions to make. I had money to spend, a small quantity of Crystals, and these two mysterious pages. [INVENTORY Paranoid, I made sure nobody else was in the vicinity as I examined the pages under my Inventory, bringing the image of each up to hover and rotate in front of my inner perception. Each sheet, composed of old paper or parchment, took up 5 metabytes, and were obviously pieces of a larger whole. But I could see no purpose or use for them individually. Examining them, they were not identical. The weathered pieces of parchment were the color of old ivory, stained at the edges. Lines of delicate script in a language I did not recognize covered the pages. There were strange patterns and diagrams. Most striking were vivid ink illustrations of plants. Leaves, flowers, twisting roots, vines, bulbous structures. I was no expert in botany, so I didn¡¯t put much stock in the fact that I could not recognize or identify any of the flora depicted. Hmmm. I recalled that the leader of the Serpents, der Schl?chter, had offered to ¡®pay handsomely in Crystals¡¯ for any Relics I recovered. Did these invasive anomalies¨Cthese manuscript fragments¨Cqualify as Relics? I also thought of Fancy Jack, the self-professed pacifistic herbalist. I wondered if he could make sense of these drawings, or at least be interested in them. I closed my Menu and stepped away from the Task Assignment Boards. I walked over to the building where Camel had once rescued me from a nasty encounter with those goons, taking pot shots from the fire escape. Where had Camel gone to anyway? I hadn¡¯t seen him in what felt like ages. I leaned against the side of the building, deep in thought. I needed to feel that whisper in the back of my mind. The guidance from my dormant conscience about the next right steps to take. DECISION POINT #1 - CRYSTALS! DESIGNATION STATISTICS SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS >SUBROUTINES UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 DECISION POINT #2 - SHOPPING! DESIGNATION EQUIPMENT INVENTORY If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ECONOMY MEMORY DECISION POINT #3 - VOYNICH MANUSCRIPT PAGES Our MC has recovered two mysterious manuscript pages - Voynich Manuscript pages. The system identified these items as [invasive anomalies]. They are written on in an unknown language and contain unusual illustrations of unrecognizable plants. The imposing, powerful, but very knowledgeable leader of the quasi-religious organization known by the shorthand of Serpents has offered to pay handsomely in Crystals for any Relics the MC recovers during their travels. We have seen that the leader does indeed have a massive private vault overflowing with Crystals. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Their base of operations is in a penthouse at the top of Nadir Tower. We also recently met "Fancy" Jack, a Volunteer and former bounty hunter who has taken up a pacifist path and set up an herbalist shop. He shows a keen interest in flora, especially flora that can be found only in the metaverse. He hopes to one day save up enough Crypt to purchase his Citizenship. A delusional goal? Perhaps. We lost the calling card with his address on it when the Huodou killed us, but if we ask around somebody could probably point us in the right direction. He does not live in the Residential Towers, but elsewhere in The Commons. Vote in the POLL below about what our MC should do with these pages: 27.1 (+ new weapon decision point) Eventually a sense of clarity settled over me. I decided to visit the Data Forge first to use my 20 Crystals. Depending on how I invested them, it would free up room that would prove useful during my impending shopping spree. As it stood now, I wouldn¡¯t even be able to regain my full Energy at the next refresh. I was a mere 4 metabytes away from maxing out my expanded cap. I accessed the powerful machinery in the Forge and selected the Convert option. [Deposit Crystals for Conversion] I converted 10 Crystals into value, which I then assigned to Storage, bringing my regular cap to a round 300 and my expanded cap up to 320. Next, I decided to Fuse my recently acquired Jiangshi data card onto an available skill slot. Sure, it was a context-specific skill, but under the right circumstances I could regain Energy without having to rest during a cycle change. Unfortunately, I would only be able to regain 10 Energy per use per Cycle, until I increased my Adeptness stat. The chief problem of economics. Unlimited wants, limited resources. But I knew someone who had seemingly limitless resources. The leader of the Serpents. I saw that vault, overflowing with Crystals. The very idea made me salivate. But no matter what I wanted to give Fancy Jack the opportunity to look at the manuscript pages first. I might be able to learn something useful. And what would I do with a hefty Crystal payday? More Essence and Resistance to keep me alive and healthy. Adeptness to improve the utility of my special skills. Speed of movement and Agility to dodge and maneuver. Perception to detect threats and opportunities in my surroundings and Persuasion to bend those surroundings and others to my will. Protocol to master the higher functions of the metaverse and unlock a greater repertoire of opportunities. And finally, Probability, so that terrible things would stop happening to me with such high regularity. I selected the Fuse option on the panel, followed by the Skill suboption. [Insert a Data Card in the indicated depository] I did so, placing then observing the slowly spinning rectangular prism infused with the decaying and ancient colors of the titular undead creature. [Uncommon Data Card - Jiangshi (Skill) detected] [Deposit Crystals for Fusing] I deposited my final 10 Crystals and rested my palms on the white handprint patterns on the surface of the podium. I steadied myself. [Begin Fusing process?] As before, an experience both painful and psychedelic unfolded, wherein the Crystals and data card were consumed by the machine and my palms and forearms glowed white hot. A swirl of cascading light pierced my chest and a deep and stinging chill fell over my heart. I remembered distinctly the feeling of the Jiangshi draining my lifeforce away, and an image of its dead face with a yellow hanging prayer scroll flashed in my mind¡¯s eye. I winced, but the image was gone. [Skill Fusing successful. Jiangshi skill fused to open skill slot. 2 / 4 skill slots assigned.] As with the fusing of the Clurichaun skill, I could visualize four shifting cubes within me. Skill slots. Two were gray and dim. The other two were bright with purpose¨Cthe power of the defeated entities subsumed within me. I briefly checked my Skills menu. [SKILLS If needed, I could rearrange the order of the skill slots. Not that it seemed to matter. Through sheer force of will I could activate whatever skill I wanted, so long as I had the Energy or met the requirements. This new Jiangshi skill required no Energy at all but, like the vampiric creature from which it originated, required a kill. With the Crystals spent, I was at 286 metabytes out of 300 / 320. So even if I regained my depleted Energy my storage account would not be full. This helped me strategize my next purchasing decisions. Time to put this 5% ¡®friends and family¡¯ discount to work. My next stop was the Armory, which was its usual buzzy hive of Volunteer commerce. I gave a lazy half salute to Colonel Peacekeeper as I perused the wares on display. So many diverse and unusual pieces of armor. So many diverse and unusual means of destruction. Glancing about, I wondered how many other shoppers in here had earned a special discount courtesy of the Round Table. There was a certain piece of armor I had my eye on for some time. And now I had extra Crypt to burn. But not seeing it in any of the rotating displays, I scrolled through the sales kiosk until I found it. It was listed at its full price, not on sale. But I wanted it. [Armor: Tactical jacket Armor Type: Body Cost: 2000 Crypt] Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I already had the black boots and pants to match. Tactical clothing¨Ccollect the whole set! Once you go tac, you never go back. I highlighted the jacket to read the full description. Armor Type: Body Cost: 2000 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Uncommon Defense Output: 30 Details: A type of jacket designed for use in military, law enforcement, and other tactical situations. Made from durable materials and features a variety of pockets and compartments for storing gear. Also features reinforced elbows and shoulders, and VELCRO patches for attaching morale patches or identification. Properties: Storing - when equipped, this armor increases memory space by 20 metabytes. Size: 30 metabytes] Yes. It would require 30 metabytes of storage in exchange for 30 defense output, but would increase my soft storage cap by an additional 20. Well worth it, in my estimation, and I could easily wear it over my ballistic vest. This would bring my total combined armor rating to 70, although I understood that, practically speaking, those defenses depended on what part of my squishy body was hit. My head was completely unprotected at present. Hmmm. I guess that is where the Resistance stat comes in handy¨Craising my overall durability regardless of individual pieces of armor. That or a good helm. Next, I searched for some of the ammo carrying accessories I had seen in Purgatory. I quickly located the ammunition belt. [Accessory: Ammunition belt Cost: 500 Crypt Frequency: Basic Details: Standard black belt with twelve loops for individually securing cartridges in .22, .38/.357 or .44/.45 caliber. Size: 10 metabytes] And it was only 500 Crypt! The ammo kiosk had the gall to charge me 800 for the same item. Count me in, and add in two extra rounds to replace the bullets I buried in the minotaur¡¯s head. Finally, I needed to upgrade my melee weapon. I was carrying the same starter dagger I picked up during orientation. It was small and {basic}, meaning I could never upgrade it or fuse it with any data cards. As much as I despised the man himself and what he used the weapon for, I thought of Little Scumbag¡¯s hunting knife. But walking through the Armory and scrolling through the kiosk, I saw no sign of it. I approached Colonel Peacekeeper, bracing myself for his larger-than-life persona. ¡°A day without blood is like a day without sunshine. Hoo-ah! Can I help you, soldier?¡± ? I¡¯m looking for a hunting knife. A particular one. A ¡®hybrid hunting knife.¡¯ Do you carry it? ¡°A Hybrid Hunting Knife you say?¡± ? Yes. ¡°A fine weapon and tool! So versatile! With its premium, stainless steel 6-inch blade with curved spine, it is designed to be equal parts hunting knife and boning knife!¡± ? That sounds like the one. ¡°Designed to withstand the elements with built-in corrosion resistance, the Hybrid Hunting Knife is the perfect companion for the outdoors gourmand and sportsman!¡± ? I¡¯m convinced! ¡°Laser-fabricated from sheets of chromium-infused high-grade steel with a carbon fiber handle, it even comes in different colors. Orange! Camo Green! Stylish and deadly!¡± ? Okay, okay. Do you have it? ¡°Negative! It is currently off rotation.¡± Dram it! ? Do you¡­ do you have any other knives I could look at? I need to upgrade from my basic push dagger. ¡°Well why didn¡¯t you say so, soldier? I have a couple {common} options here that fit the bill!¡± Colonel Peacekeeper raised a metal green finger and opened two shimmering menus in the air before me. He pulled up two melee options in particular. [Weapon: Bolo knife Weapon Type: Melee (slashing) Cost: 500 Crypt Weapon: Mark I trench knife Weapon Type: Melee (piercing / bludgeoning) Cost: 500 Crypt] I highlighted both to access the details. The rotating 3D images of the two weapons looked interesting enough. The first had a wide, curved blade, like a smaller version of a machete. The second was more of a narrow dagger, but had a spiked knuckle guard attached to the hilt. Both would have longer reach than my push dagger, and would not be saddled by the Basic property. [Weapon: Bolo knife Weapon Type: Melee (slashing) Cost: 500 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Common Damage Output: 20 Details: A versatile tool originating in the Philippines with a heavy, curved blade, ideal for agricultural work, chopping thick vegetation, and self-defense. Size: 10 metabytes Weapon: Mark I trench knife Weapon Type: Melee (piercing / bludgeoning) Cost: 500 Crypt Level: 1 of 10 Frequency: Common Damage Output: 20 Details: A fearsome World War I weapon featuring a double-edged dagger blade and a distinctive ¡®knuckle duster¡¯ handle for close quarters combat. Size: 10 metabytes] I did some quick math. 2,000 for the jacket, 500 for the ammo belt, 20 to refill my revolver, and 500 for a new blade added up to 3,020. With my 5% discount that should be¡­ 2,869 Crypt, leaving me with 3,961. Plenty to keep the spending spree going over at the Supply Depot and still have a financial cushion left over. But which knife would be the better replacement? Although it had served me well, I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to drop that push dagger down the data recycler for something better. 27.2 (+ cybernetic implant decision point - readers poll activated!) The bolo knife had more utility in that, besides chopping, hacking, cutting, and slashing my enemies, I could also chop, hack, cut, and slash other things. Ropes? Vines? Writhing tentacles? And I liked the appearance of the broad, heavy blade. On the other hand, the trench knife had more versatility. The primary mode of attack would be plunging the narrow dagger into my target, with the added bonus of being able to use the subtly spiked knuckle guard to bludgeon opponents. For some reason, my instincts were overwhelmingly telling me to go with the trench knife. Ideally, with my expanded ammunition reserves I could consistently attack from range for longer. Then again, the snubnosed revolver did not have the best range. With the exception of the hedge maze, most of my battles had taken place in urban environments. And even the hedge maze could be considered close quarters. But crazy old Camel favored a long gun, even in this endless cityscape. I wondered why, remembering his scoped, bolt-action rifle and ghillie suit. A different approach. I removed the push dagger from my Inventory to make room for the new gear. Then I finalized the purchase of the tactical jacket, ammunition belt, two .32 caliber rounds, and trench knife. I scanned the smart ink on my left wrist, then my Volunteer ID barcode on my right. [5% Armory Discount accepted] I paid the reduced total of 2,869 Crypt. It was a lot, but I was getting a good bang for my buck. [Tactical jacket selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this armor?] [Ammunition belt selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this accessory?] [Mark I trench knife selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to equip this weapon?] Yes to all of the above. With each acceptance, my appearance changed. The smart-looking black jacket easily fit over my layers of the promotional t-shirt and ballistic vest. The ammunition belt slotted perfectly around my waist over the tactical pants. Lastly, I held and admired my new melee weapon before dematerializing it out of sight. ¡°Thank you for shopping at the Armory, soldier. Remember¨Cdon¡¯t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes!¡± I went over to the memory hole to recycle the push dagger. I scanned my ID, watching the pink triangle shine cyan, and dropped the small weapon in. The dagger was instantly sucked into the void with a terrible rushing sound. [You received 10 Crypt. Thank you for recycling unused data!] I double-checked the new additions to my Equipment menu. [EQUIPMENT I also checked my Economy menu and Storage submenu. [ECONOMY MEMORY Not enough room left to refill my Energy to full. But I had a plan, inspired by the storage lockers during my brief visit to the MAR Master Terminal. I left the crowded Armory and crossed the lot to the bright siren lights of the Supply Depot. I entered just in time to glimpse the legs of multiple Volunteers disappearing from the top of the spiral staircase to the upper floor. The Auction House. I was curious about it, but that wasn¡¯t the reason I was here. To my surprise the aged vendor was not seated at her usual spot behind the counter. Instead, I found her rearranging items on one of the novelty aisles. I greeted her. ¡°Oh, ho ho. Don¡¯t mind me. Just refreshing the retail displays. They¨CI mean we¨Chave a new seasonal assortment coming in.¡± ? Do you sell any personal data storage cubes? ¡°Storage cubes? We sure do, dearie. But they are in the back. Follow me.¡± The woman walked very slowly, shuffling down the aisles until we came to a doorway in the rear corner leading to a small back room. An overflow area for additional goods. We passed through a hanging curtain of plastic slats and she gestured to various large cubes stacked haphazardly on the floor. They reminded me of the same cubes or lockers for rent at the Master Terminal, but looked run down. ? Why do you keep them back here? ¡°They are not a popular item. Most of your kind keep accounts at the Repository. And they are a hassle to move. Very heavy. Too large to fit in most Inventories.¡± ? I see. ¡°Also, many rains ago there was a rash of break-ins and thefts. Such a shame, really. I remember a time when your kind was more noble...¡± The old woman sighed deeply, staring off into space. There was that phrase again¨C¡¯your kind.¡¯ These vendor bots were something else. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I carefully looked from box to box until I found the least expensive option, and one that appeared to be in good condition. And it was on sale! In fact, most of the cubes were steeply discounted. ? Are these really so unpopular? ¡°They fixed the faulty locking mechanism long ago, but by then the cubes had a bad reputation. As I said, there was a crime wave back then.¡± I reached out my hand to highlight the box. [Item: Storage cube Cost: 1000 Crypt (500 with 50% discount) Capacity: 100 metabytes Details: A personal data storage cube that holds up to 100 metabytes of data. Cannot be used to store Crypt due to CEC regulations. Accessible by Volunteer ID of owner. Size: 500 metabytes] ? Wow. This thing is really dense! How can I get this back to the Residential Towers? ¡°I can deliver it for you after hours, dearie.¡± ? You? How? ¡°On my bicycle of course.¡± ? Okay¡­ I couldn¡¯t tell if she was joking. Were vendor bots programmed to joke? ¡°I may not look it anymore, but I am more than capable of making a simple delivery. Are you staying in your designated residence or at another location? ? The default room that was assigned to me. The one with my number on it. ¡°Then don¡¯t you worry. Buy whatever one you like and I¡¯ll be sure it gets to you before you can answer the following riddle: ¡®A face marked by time, silent stories to tell. Holding secrets of heaven, in each dent and swell.¡¯¡± I blinked at her, not comprehending. Was she malfunctioning? ? Right¡­ I¡¯ll just go ahead and buy this one then. 500 Crypt? She simply smiled and nodded, opening the special vendor menu in the air. Transaction completed. I would just have to go check and see if my property showed up. Any way I can get a receipt on this¡­? My plan was to keep the storage cube at my place in the Residential Towers. I would stash whatever I wasn¡¯t actively using or planning to use, freeing up more space and also providing an extra layer of protection against losing things from an untimely death or other mishap. The crafting materials, the card fragments, the throwing knife¨Ceven the Voynich manuscript pages could be kept for safekeeping until I decided what to do with them. That would free up 26 metabytes right off the bat. 3,471 Crypt remaining. I needed to save enough for the data backup and any travel required for my next bounty, but I had decided to check out the Advanced Body modification options downstairs. Yes, the last time was a nightmare. Getting the axis port installed in the back of my head was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my time in The Collective, and that was saying a lot. But I had now seen multiple Volunteers using implants. The katana-wielding woman in the warehouse raid came to mind. Rook was riddled with them. I even suspected that Little Knifey used some sort of implant. I also remembered that an anesthesia option existed, but I forgot how much extra it cost. Maybe there was a way to mitigate the horror of additional modification procedures. Leaving the vendor to her own little world, I descended the spiral staircase and stepped onto the black slate floor, scanning my number under the waiting sensor. The image of my avatar filled the large central screen. Decked out in my black tactical gear, I didn¡¯t look half bad. Ignoring Cosmetic changes for now, I scrolled through the available options on the left panel until I reached the Advanced Body Modification submenu. Implants or modifications were a way to improve my performance without needing Crystals to upgrade my statistical categories. A way to shortcut the gradual progression process through cold, hard Cryptocurrency. Right now, Crypt is what I had. And I wanted something that would give me an edge. I scrolled through a long list of brain jacks, limb augmentation, synthetic organ replacement, and myriad other categories before pausing at the ocular implant submenu. Hmmm. What¡¯s in here? As with the chip in the back of my head, I soon realized I would need to complete another prerequisite procedure. [Modification Integration Procedure - Ocular Port Installation: One-time surgical procedure to install ports in both eye sockets for ocular implant access. Cost: 1000 Crypt] Oh no. Body modification surgery involving removing my eyeballs did not seem pleasant in the least. But it could pave the way for additional benefits, and the implants could be swapped out over time for better upgrades. Instead of body modification, I tried to conceptualize this instead as data surgery. Whatever programming or code comprised my avatar would be permanently altered. Because I was grafting a new segment of code onto myself, the subsequent implant would not take up any storage. The port itself offset any additional data burden. But that wouldn¡¯t make it hurt less. The good news was that anesthesia was advertised as on sale for 50% off. It was my cycle for large discounts! Could this have something to do with a new retail season approaching, whatever that meant? Everything must go at a low, low price? The bad news was that 50% off still came to a steep 1,000 Crypt. There were different kinds of pain: physical, and financial. If I decided to get the port installation, what implants could I actually afford? I found a few options, with improved implants in the same series dramatically increasing in price relative to the benefits they provided. And I saw that I did not have a high enough Protocol stat for the advanced models. [977-C-ING-I 1 Ocular implant that enables monochromatic low light vision in dark conditions. Cost: 1000 Crypt - 977-C-ING-I 2 Ocular implant that enables night vision in dark conditions. Cost: 5000 Crypt Alert: You do not have the required minimum Protocol for this device.] I also saw further upgrades in the series advertising thermal vision, dark vision, and even X-ray vision. What exactly was the difference between low light, night, thermal, and dark vision? I thought of the shielded thermal goggles from Antisoc, now in the hands of ColSec, and muttered a curse. [IE-9NLYS-I L/R 1 Single eye ocular implant that enables analysis of the Essence of {common} invasive entities. Cost: 1000 Crypt - IE-9NLYS-I L/R 2 Single eye ocular implant that enables analysis of the Essence of invasive entities up to {uncommon} frequency. Cost: 5000 Crypt Alert: You do not have the required minimum Protocol for this device.] Could this have been how Little Knifey knew how much Essence the minotaur had? I suspected so, although I hadn¡¯t noticed anything unusual about his eyes during our time together. Similar to the first series of implants, I saw additional iterations allowing analysis of Rare, Legendary, and even Mythical entities. The price of the last option was astronomical. - [B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 1 Ocular implant that grants a bonus of +20 value to the Perception statistical category and enables 4x visual zoom capability. Cost: 1000 Crypt - B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 2 Ocular implant that grants a bonus of +40 value to the Perception statistical category and enables 8x visual zoom capability. Cost: 5000 Crypt Alert: You do not have the required minimum Protocol for this device.] Wary of the potentially excruciating pain though I was, I rationalized that the benefits would outweigh and outlast the temporary suffering. Like childbirth. It would cost 1,000 Crypt for the port installation, and another 1,000 for the implant of my choice. With the special sale, I could opt-in for anesthesia for an additional 1,000. Either way, I was looking to drop between 2,000 to 3,000 for this, out of my remaining 3,471 Crypt. 27.3 I had a sneaking premonition that something bad could happen if I carried out the surgery without anesthesia. My Resistance was low, meaning the form of my avatar lacked a certain amount of toughness that could withstand such a physical violation and easily bounce back. I had survived the first procedure, but found it utterly excruciating. Would there be no consequence to repeatedly exposing myself to that level of pain or worse? Still, 1,000 Crypt was a lot. I had to rationalize the purchase. It¡¯s on sale. Half off. 50% discount. You can¡¯t beat that deal. There are always more monsters to kill. More bounty payments to collect. Two of the implant options involved both eyes, while the Essence analyzing option was described as a single eye implant. Could I mix and match? Could I stack implants in the future? Could I purchase multi-benefit implants? I simply didn¡¯t have the required Protocol to use a lot of the more beneficial modification options. There was even a Retractable Targeting Reticle to improve ranged weapon accuracy that I did not meet the threshold for. I wanted all of the above perks. But only the port installation was permanent. I could always swap out implants later. Right¡­? I selected the B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 1 option. A +20 bonus to my Perception stat and visual zoom was interesting. I was drawn to the Low Light option as well, but it seemed less useful than the upgraded Night Vision, or some of the more advanced options. I could hold out for that, or even invest in my own pair of thermal goggles. And I would love to detect the Essence of invasive entities. That would be a game changer. But I could only afford and qualify for the implant that analyzed {common} frequency monsters. I didn¡¯t plan on farming Kappas and Hellhounds every cycle¡­ Here goes something. [Modification Integration Procedure - Ocular Port Installation) selected. B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 1 implant selected. Selection confirmed. Would you like to apply these changes?] ? Yes. But I want anesthesia this time. The familiar cloying voice responded to me. With the current 50% discount, anesthesia is available for an additional charge of 1,000 Crypt. ? I already said I wanted it. Would you like to purchase anesthesia? ? Yes, for the love of bog! Anesthesia confirmed. The round apertures in the black floor opened, and the two narrow pedestals shot up. The indicated places to rest my hands glowed white. I stepped between them and my hands clung tight to the bright surfaces¨Cimmobilized. Please remain still. Administering anesthesia. A metal arm descended from the ceiling with a syringe and a large gauge needle. I tensed as it whirred and clicked closer, zeroing in over some intended spot on my neck. That needle is huge! Without further warning the needle plunged into the side of my neck. Bright red fluid coursed into me. ? Oww! Why does the thing that is supposed to take away my pain have to cause me pain first? But soon all physical sensation drained from my body. Although my hands were fastened to white hot panels, there was no feeling except complete numbness from head to toe. Anesthesia administered. Please remain still. The operation will begin shortly. Two additional mechanical appendages descended, swapping places with the first arm. The ends of each held onto a single metal mask, connected by wires and tubes to the appendages, that was maneuvered in front of the top portion of my face. Inside the mask I glimpsed inert gears, or circular saw teeth, like some sort of mining drill. I don¡¯t like this¡­ The arms moved forward until the mask fit tightly over my forehead and eyes, leaving an indentation for my nose. I saw only total darkness. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Please remain still. Permanent ocular damage may occur if you move. Frag me. I braced against the pedestals, forcing myself to be as calm and still as possible. Thankfully the expensive anesthesia worked. I felt nothing but intense, dull pressure in my eye sockets. There was a burrowing noise and my facial structure vibrated as the machine did its work. Although I could not feel it, I sickeningly imagined my eyeballs removed from my skull, metal rings fastened onto bone, synthetic neural fibers plugged into my visual cortex, and newly modified eyes popped into waiting cavities. Operation successful. Ocular Port installation successful. B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 1 ocular implant successful. Draining 3,000 Crypt from my account¨Csuccessful. I dragged myself up the spiral stairs and stumbled out of the Supply Depot, my eye sockets deeply sore and my retinas hypersensitive to the moving panels of light encircling the Supply Depot. The numbness of the anesthesia lingered; my limbs were sluggish and numb. Every shining light in The Commons pricked intrusively at my vision. My eyes¡­ ah. I might need some time to get used to these things. I planned to immediately back up my data at the Restoration Point. Unfortunately, I felt the first drops of pink rain lashing me. Dram. That would have to wait. I made for the Residential Towers, fighting against the numbness to clamber up the slick emergency stairs to the elevated road above. Streams of pink liquid ran over my boots. Wetness dripped off the sleeves of my new jacket. Crossing the street, I narrowly avoided tripping in a pothole concealed by the flooding waters. Benefit of increased Perception? I scanned my code in the rattling cage elevator and rode it to my floor, rubbing my eyes. Locating my hole in the wall partway down the dim residential hallway, I scanned again and ducked to enter my little domy. What the frag? The white storage cube sat in the corner. The one I just purchased before the surgery. How did¡­ when¡­ ? Scratching my head, I crawled closer and carefully inspected the box. Yes, it was the exact same one. How did it get here before me, and how did it get inside my place? I couldn¡¯t figure it out, and I couldn¡¯t leave until the rain stopped. A sudden recollection came to me¨CCamel had two cubes similar to this in his residence. I had forgotten. Similar, but not identical. I could perceive subtle differences in design. Maybe his cubes were an older model, before they fell out of favor. The vendor said these were not popular storage options for Volunteers anymore. That may be so, but there was another reason I wanted to buy it. After my involvement with the heist, I didn¡¯t feel comfortable showing my face at the Repository. Not yet. Maybe after things cooled down. I was sure the investigation was ongoing, and the threat of ColSec surveillance weighed in the back of my mind. Every action has a consequence. By agreeing to help Antisoc, I was now avoiding utilizing a service that many other Volunteers enjoyed. I needed to adapt. Adapt or¡­ well, not die, exactly. Adapt or suffer. I scanned my code in front of an etched circular pattern on the side of the cube. A red ring flashed white, and I heard a distinct ¡®clink¡¯. The cube did not open. Not physically. I held my hand over the box and highlighted it. Soon, a separate menu appeared in my vision. Ah. The cube has its own storage menu. I see now. Time to test this out. I opened my personal menu, then dragged and dropped the items from my Equipment and Inventory into the cube: the fern flowers, coco de mer nut, white linen cloth, vial of pure water, the six Minotaur fragments, and even the throwing knife. They instantly dematerialized into the cube. I¡¯ll keep the Kappa fragments in my Inventory for the time being. Then¨CI hesitated. Did I want to stash the manuscript pages? Little Knifey was out there, somewhere. Was it possible he could come looking for the missing pages? Perhaps he had no idea the missing pages even existed. Either way, I had no experience dealing with invasive anomalies, or what the leader of the Serpents called ¡®relics.¡¯ Just how prized were there? Valuable enough for Little Knifey to paralyze me and leave me for dead. I dragged and dropped the two Voynich Manuscript pages into the personal data storage cube. Temporarily kept safe behind two Volunteer ID-dependent locks. I checked my new stash: [STORAGE CUBE And that brought my on-person storage (factoring in the +40 cumulative soft cap) down to: [MEMORY I scanned my identifier a second time and the circular light clicked back to red. Cube locked. I was tired. My eyes were sore. My body tingling with numbness. It was time to rest, reset, then back up my data. I removed and set aside most of my armor and tried to get comfortable on the thin pallet. My cramped capsule was even more cramped with the addition of the cube. I twisted off the light and waited. Eventually, my awareness faded. I imagined the gentle sound of lapping waves. But no terrifying visions came. 28 - Relics Chapter 28 - Relics [Refresh complete. Essence at full. Energy restored.] I reached for the light. An uneventful cycle change. The best kind. The system was refreshed, the programs rebooted. My eyes were now only a little sore, and no longer hypersensitive to the light. That was a relief. I sat on my pallet and experimented, trying to zoom my vision in and out. It worked. No different than trying to focus one¡¯s vision on any point or object, my ocular implants adjusted like lenses on a camera. Up to four times the magnification, also known as ¡®scanning.¡¯ Of course, there was very little to see in my tube and very little distance from which to see it. But the implants worked. I got dressed and rode the elevator to the ground floor, then visited the Restoration Point straightaway without incident. I paid 100 Crypt to back up my new and improved self: armor, weapons, implants and all. My True Self (?). Only 371 Crypt left and 10 free metabytes. But I was satisfied with my purchases and upgrades. I could deal damage up close or at range, cast an illusion and absorb a target¡¯s Energy. My cumulative defensive total was 70, and I carried seventeen .32 caliber rounds on my person. With my new implants, Perception was now my highest Statistical category at 40. Backup complete, I returned to my residence and removed a single Voynich Manuscript page from my storage cube. I made up my mind to take it to Fancy Jack for appraisal and I was more comfortable carrying just the one for now. But there was a problem. When I made the decision to sacrifice myself, intervening to protect Rook from the Huodou, the calling card Fancy Jack gave me was lost. The address to his apartment. I never backed it up. Once again, I realized that actions and decisions have consequences. Often unintended consequences. I tried to think. I met Fancy Jack near an abandoned or closed underground mall after the ColSec interrogation. But his apartment could be anywhere in The Commons. I was in such a rush to join the raid I hadn¡¯t paid much attention which direction he went after our conversation. I visited the Information Kiosk and inquired after the virtual assistant for Fancy Jack¡¯s address. I apologize for any inconvenience, but unfortunately, I am unable to accommodate that request. Also, I am not programmed to recognize Volunteers by their unofficial aliases. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Strike one. Next, I asked around at the Rathskeller, keeping my eyes out for Camel or Little Knifey. No sign of either. Not even with 4x zoom. None of the Volunteers could tell me exactly where to find Fancy Jack¡¯s ¡®apartment / urban garden / shop¡¯, but a few told me it was located in the Kafka Building, an eclectic mixed-use development on an elevated section of The Commons beyond Mendicant Row. They gave me general directions. It was a long walk. I passed through multiple grungy pedestrian tunnels and scaled steps to bypass steep inclines of jutting concrete. Boarded up storefronts and vandalized windows were everywhere here. Nice part of town. Digital billboards and holographic advertisements loomed far overhead, including one for an automated-vehicle taxi service. I zoomed in on the ad. Apparently Volunteers could access the service through any Information Kiosk for a fee. Would have been helpful to know that an hour ago. I kept walking. Up ahead I perceived a bright glow and increased activity. Mounted work lights and unusual heavy machinery. The swirl of carrion bird Polizei drones. I quickened my pace until I reached a large construction site blocking my path. Several Polizei bots stood guard. Behind them, tall but flimsy barricades obstructed physical and visual access to the area beyond. The makeshift walls were similarly graffitied and slathered with advertisements, and I couldn¡¯t tell which was more of an eyesore. But I could tell that something was off. Through cracks in the barricades and also stretching above there appeared to be a deep blankness. A dark void. A hole in The Commons where part of the city once stood. This void was surrounded by scattered chunks of debris pushed together into heaping piles. And strangest of all, columns of moving digital code worked to stitch and fabricate this portion of the city back into existence in real time. ¡°No loitering or trespassing. This is a crime scene and active work zone,¡± one of the Polizei bots barked. Crime scene? ? I¡¯m trying to get to the Kafka Building. The Polizei bots conferred with one another, then the first turned back to me. ¡°Are you assigned to live in this sector?¡± ? No¡­ I¡¯m trying to visit a friend. ¡°Friend?¡± The word did not seem to compute. ¡°Until the reconstruction is complete and all evidence gathered, there is no admission beyond this point unless you are a registered resident of this sector. Show me your Volunteer ID.¡± ? No, no. It¡¯s okay. I was just leaving. I took several strides out of the radius of system activity and observed. Was there a way I could go around? Another route? In the distance, beyond the rubble, deep darkness, and segments of code, I perceived several buildings built onto what may have been a former highway overpass stretching off in either direction. Even if I could somehow reach it, I didn¡¯t know the exact apartment where Fancy Jack lived. Would I go knocking door to door trying to find the herbalist? A realization came to me. That explosion! The ColSec officer mentioned it during my interrogation. There was even a news segment on the train. Mendicant Row. A suspected Rez den. Ground zero of an explosion damaging property and avatars. This was where it happened. But this blast radius didn¡¯t resemble the effects of any type of bomb I could imagine. Again, the thought bubbled to the surface that actions have consequences. But who was responsible for this action? This decision? The consequence for me was that I could not reach my destination. Not now. And I didn¡¯t want any more heat from Collective Security. Best not to be hanging around an active crime scene. I had one Voynich Manuscript page on me. I could take it to the Serpents and see what they had to say. Maybe this wasn¡¯t the type of Relic their leader was interested in. Either way, I would reserve the second page for Fancy Jack just as soon as I could reach him. That meant another long walk ahead of me. Even longer than before. Any Information Kiosks around to hail a ride? I didn¡¯t think so. 28.1 Hours later, I arrived at Nadir Tower at the far lower end of The Commons, exhausted. I entered the lobby and four armed Serpents in ornate masks stopped me. ? I¡¯m here to see der Schl?chter. I have something I think he wants. A Relic. The masks regarded me in silence. Then one of them nodded and bid me to follow. We crossed the marble floors and got in the freight elevator. The Serpent guard inserted a golden key. It was a long ride to the top floor. I fidgeted, suddenly second guessing my decision to come here. I have nothing to worry about. I am here on invitation. Der Schl?chter specifically asked me to bring any relics to him for a generous reward. And I didn¡¯t even need to be part of their creepy family. No strings attached. So why did I feel this sense of foreboding? Two other masked Serpents waited for us at the top of the lift. From somewhere inside a deep vibrato reverberated through the penthouse. Ohmmmmmmmm. The guards escorted me through the impressive penthouse to an open, central room. And there he was. The enormous, hairless man, seated in the lotus position in front of an ancient stone slab. He wore only a loincloth. Der Schl?chter. At my entrance, he rose, reaching for a silk kimono. He smiled broadly, showing his large white teeth. Before the kimono was on, I used my ocular implants to zoom in on the Volunteer ID barcode on his wrist. It read: 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00110110. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the Nameless Volunteer, returned to us at last.¡± ? I have a name. They call me Magpie now. ¡°Magpie? Well, isn¡¯t that exquisite? Magpie. What fair tidings bring you to the Serpents¡¯ Lair on this auspicious cycle?¡± I heard a rueful snicker and turned to see Razor, Buzzcut, and a few other Serpent goons seated nearby. Razor glared contemptuously at me. ¡°Razor, do be kind to our guest,¡± the leader¡¯s deep, paternalistic voice chastised. Razor gulped and sat up straighter, disguising his snickering as throat-clearing. ¡°Yes, Schl?chter! Just had something loveted in my gorlo is all.¡± The large man glided across the floor until he stood uncomfortably close to me. I looked up at him, my eye level only reaching to his silk clad chest. ¡°Am I correct in perceiving you have something for me?¡± I nodded, reaching into my Inventory and materializing the single Voynich Manuscript page. I delicately gripped the edge between two fingers and held it out. He took the sheet in his large hands and studied it. ¡°Very interesting,¡± he murmured. ¡°Where, pray tell, did you find this?¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ? In a hedge maze in Grand Central Park. Eden West. ¡°And this was the only one? Just this one page?¡± He turned his gaze on me, large eyes boring into my soul. I had the unnerving feeling that he could see straight through me. He would know if I was lying. Somehow, he would know. I had to choose my words carefully. ? Another Volunteer, I don¡¯t know his name, found a book. An invasive anomaly. This page fell out. I only have this page in my Inventory. He continued to stare at me wordlessly. Was it getting warm in here? ? I remembered what you said. You have an interest in relics. Does this qualify? Der Schl?chter motioned for one of the masked guards and whispered in their ear. The guard left the room, moving to another part of the penthouse. Looking at the four ragtag goons, I began to suspect they (Razor and his ilk) were of lower rank than the Serpents adorned in the striking feathered serpent masks. They were just children in this family, not mature disciples. The guard returned carrying a small but ornately carved wooden chest which he passed to the leader, who dismissed him. Der Schl?chter opened the lid and I beheld it was full of sparkling Crystals. My pulse quickened. ¡°How does 100 Crystals sound in exchange for this one sheet of paper?¡± 100! ? It sounds very generous. ¡°You appear to be limited on free space, so you can keep this chest to hold the Crystals until you can make other arrangements. Consider it a gift.¡± Low on storage space. How the frag could he know that? I reached out to accept the treasure. Right before I could touch the chest, der Schl?chter pulled it back just out of my grasp. ¡°But before you accept this payment, there is something else I want to speak to you about.¡± ? Oh? ¡°A job. A simple job that you are uniquely suited for. It would mean a great deal to me.¡± I remembered the note added to my Subroutines menu. The task I hadn¡¯t gotten around to accepting. [>SUBROUTINES ? You mean the package you want me to deliver? Razor, Buzzcut, and the other two whose names I didn¡¯t know snickered and nudged each other. An inside joke? ¡°No. We had another courier take care of that little delivery job for us. But thank you for remembering.¡± I guess I waited too long for that one. ? A different job then? What is it? ¡°Instead of delivering a package, this task is but a simple and harmless act of retrieval. Pick something up and bring it here to me. I will pay you¡­ 1,000 Crystals.¡± My jaw hit the floor. ? 1,000 Crystals? ¡°1,000 Crystals. All for you in exchange for bringing me a single item that I believe to be here in The Commons. And again, this is a job that you, little bird, are uniquely suited for.¡± Me? Uniquely suited? I couldn¡¯t imagine how. The masked guard returned, holding a larger chest with the lid already open. A veritable bounty of shimmering Crystals shone forth, threatening to overflow the container. It was a glorious sight. I answered without hesitation, raw cupidity overriding any internal warning bells. ? Yes! Yes¡­ I¡¯m interested. Please tell me more. The large man clicked his tongue and shook his head from side to side. ¡°Unfortunately, I cannot tell you any more details nor entrust you with this task unless you are willing to take a leap of faith. For right now you are still considered an outsider among us.¡± ? A leap of faith? ¡°All of us here have taken part in a sacred ceremony. An initiation ritual, if you will. To serve on behalf of the Progenies Serpentium you must first participate in this sacrament. I believe you will find the process most enlightening.¡± I perceived the goons shifting uncomfortably in their seats and exchanging knowing glances. Did they not want me to take this initiatory step? Were they worried I would outshine them, put them to shame in front of their master? Or was there something else going on? ? Let me get this straight. If I take part in this initiation ritual, then you will give me the details of this job. And if I complete this ¡®simple¡¯ job, I earn 1,000 Crystals. Another broad smile from the leader. He rested a hand firmly on my shoulder, keeping the chest of 100 Crystals tucked in the crook of his other arm. ¡°Beautifully summarized, little bird. It is as you said. And remember¡­ I never lie.¡± How could I turn down 1,000 Crystals? Especially if the job was as easy as der Schl?chter said. This was a man with startling power. A man capable of bending the elements of this metaverse to his will. And the things I could do with 1,000 Crystals¡­ the possibilities¡­ 28.2 - [EXTREME CONTENT WARNING] Despite my misgivings, I agreed. How bad could one initiation ritual be? It didn¡¯t mean I was swearing eternal fealty to this organization. ? Okay. ¡°You don¡¯t know how pleased I am to hear that. Follow me.¡± Leaving the meditation room, der Schl?chter lead me into the large kitchen. The goons trailed behind hesitantly but obediently. I also noticed several of the masked guards joining us. Nice kitchen. So, was this sacrament some form of meal? A holy feast? ¡°Disrobe.¡± ? What? ¡°I INSIST.¡± Der Schl?chter spoke with such force, such command that I found myself instantly obeying, shedding every layer of armor. A masked disciple quickly gathered the pieces and placed them to one side. I stood naked, wanting to cover my private areas from the many watching eyes but having nothing to cover. Was that some sort of special skill he used? An overwhelmingly high Persuasion stat? I was naked. Now what¡ªa juvenile hazing routine? Were they going to take turns spanking me with a paddle? ¡°Very good. Now lay down. HERE.¡± Der Schl?chter lovingly ran his bare hand over a large wooden platform, or table. I looked from the table to him and back again, hesitating. ¡°This won¡¯t take long.¡± ? But I¡­ ¡°I INSIST.¡± The next thing I knew I was lying naked on the long wooden platform. The leader smiled fondly at me and ran a hand through my black hair. ¡°This will be your first step to true awakening, little one.¡± He nodded to two of his masked disciples who were at my side in an instant, lashing my arms and legs to points at the bottom of the platform. ? Hey! What are you doing? I strained against the bindings. This was not what I had agreed to! ¡°Calm yourself. Breathe. Do not give into fear.¡± Above me, hanging from the ceiling, I noticed several large meat hooks. Oh no. Oh no, oh no! I do not like this¡­ The disciples who tied me down disappeared then quickly returned, wheeling two heavy contraptions behind them. I twisted my head, trying desperately to see what they were doing. Meanwhile, der Schl?chter slowly unrolled a black bundle on the spacious countertop. One disciple slid a needle into a vein on my arm, connected by a plastic tube leading to one of the machines. The other attached electrodes to either side of my head. ? What is this? What are they doing!? ¡°This first machine there is so you will not bleed out. The second is so you will not lose consciousness. You will not want to miss a moment of this.¡± I was pretty sure I did. ? Stop this. Please, stop this. Just let me go. I don¡¯t want to do this anymore. 1,000 Crystals? Keep your Crystals! Keep the 100 Crystals too! Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The leader shook his head, a sympathetic expression. The folds of skin on his hairless head wrinkled with deep and genuine concern. ¡°I am setting you free.¡± To my horror, he held up a large meat cleaver. I cried in terror, writhing against the bindings. The Serpents stood solemnly, witnessing the unfolding ritual. Then, bringing the blade down in a sharp motion, the man chopped my foot clean off. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed. But there was nobody to save me. ? WHAT THE FRAG DID YOU DO TO ME!?! The masked disciples leaned over my ankle and applied a tourniquet above the severed round bone and vascular, exposed flesh. Horrific pain exploded up my leg. I felt dizzy, like I could pass out. I WANTED to pass out. Please BOG let me pass out! A subtle electric shock at my temples jolted me back to the present moment. ¡°Do not run from this. Embrace it,¡± the monster repeated in soothing, dulcet tones. The others stared at the scene, not daring to look away, although I sensed the one called Buzzcut would rather be anywhere else in the metaverse right now. I slammed my head back on the platform, tears coursing from my face. I thought the worst was over. I was wrong. Der Schl?chter brought my severed foot, dripping with blood, to his mouth. And he began to eat it. ? No! NO! I tried to shut my eyes, to look away. But a Serpent knelt behind me, wrenching my eyelids open painfully with their fingers and forcing my head in the direction of their sick master. ¡°If I do not eat your flesh and drink your blood, you have no part of me,¡± the master intoned. His large white teeth tore through the outer layer of skin, ripping it off in strips which he masticated and swallowed. He moved on to the muscles, tendons, and ligaments, chewing greedily and sucking the meat off the exposed phalanges bones. Sucking the fluid from the metatarsophalangeal joints. ? YOU¡¯RE SICK! YOU¡¯RE INSANE! I wanted to vomit. I tried to vomit. But that was impossible. ¡°Let go of your preconceptions,¡± the man cooed. ¡°None of this is real. None of it. This foot? Not real. Even your perception of pain is an illusion. All of this is simply data, information signals beaming through the network of your brain.¡± I struggled against the hands prying open my eyes, fought against the cords binding me. But I had no strength to fight. Blood pumped into my veins from the machine, replacing that which spilled across the floor of the kitchen off the butcher¡¯s block. ? PLEASE! PLEASE STOP IT. I BEG YOU! ¡°I cannot stop until you let go. Free your mind from the confines of your limited perception. Understand that this is nothing more than ones and zeroes. Ones and zeroes. You must break through the illusion to find TRUE POWER!¡± As he spoke, he held up the partially devoured foot near my face. My own fragging foot. The navicular and cuneiform bones protruded from the raw meat. Ones and zeroes. Ones and zeroes. ? Ones¡­ and zeroes¡­ I tried to repeat it like a mantra. Tried to focus on something, to attach my mind to anything other than this living nightmare. Through the opening in the front of der Schl?chter¡¯s kimono, I watched the two snake tattoos from his back slithering across his skin, coiling about his formidable chest and belly. Impossibly alive. The ouroboros¡ªthe self-devouring serpent. ¡°The first step towards apotheosis begins with accepting reality. Want a bite?¡± ? NO!!! I spat at the man. He just laughed, not bothering to wipe the saliva from his face. ¡°Even your spittle is nothing but bits of code. Completely artificial. But we seek something greater than The Collective can offer. Together, we will TRANSCEND all limitations!¡± His followers were becoming energized, riled up by this sermon. ¡°SERPENTS RISE!¡± the masked disciples chanted in unison. I simply laid back on the table, sobbing helplessly. As he gnawed on the joint cartilage and sucked the final bits of meat off my skeletonized foot, der Schl?chter belched and daintily dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin. Against he rested his large hand on me, this time on my bare chest. There was a tenderness in that touch completely at odds with the horror that had just been inflicted on me. ¡°This was a hard experience for you. I know. Believe me, I know. But it was for your own good. To open your eyes to the truth. Now we can at last welcome you into our family. You need not be an outsider to our cause any longer.¡± I said nothing¡ªcould say nothing. My body trembled uncontrollably. With rage? Shock? Adrenaline? ¡°Now I offer you a choice. We can replace your lost appendage. Improve it. Transcend the flesh. Or we can send you back to the Restoration Point, where you may be reborn whole.¡± Quivering, with tears and snot covering my face, I looked over at the Serpent goons. I realized that each of them was missing body parts. Razor¡¯s lower jaw was entirely chrome. Buzzcut had a metal hand. There were similar parts and pieces missing from the others, and that was just what I could see above the clothing and masks. No way. I wanted no part of this. No Serpent chrome would touch my body. ? Kill me¡­ Der Schl?chter leaned in close. ¡°What was that, my child?¡± ? Just kill me. Please¡­ kill me¡­ ¡°As you wish.¡± The disciples removed the tube from my arm and the electrodes from my head. My footless bleeding naked body lay strapped to the butcher¡¯s block. Exposed. Vulnerable. Powerless. The butcher raised his cleaver high above my neck, then cut off my head with a single downward stroke. 29 - Theories Chapter 29 - Theories ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ 0 1 10 11 100 101 110 111 1000 1001 1010 Restoration Complete. Now discharging. Awakening. There was a loud clanking sound. A vibrating platform lowered me out of the restoration tube, unceremoniously depositing me beside it like an unwanted fetus. I was alive. Again. Of course I was. Resurrected at the Restoration Point. The cycle continues. The endless cycle of misery. I looked down at my body. My hands, my arms, my legs. I was once again clothed in my full outfit, including two tactical boots worn over my two attached feet. At least there was that bit of good news. The panel nearby chirped. Your last restoration was {0} cycles ago. Automatic Restoration Fee notification. 2,000 Crypt will be deducted. Warning! You now have a negative balance. Your account is overdrawn by 1,629 Crypt. Warning! Compound interest will accrue on all unpaid debts each cycle until cleared. Forget what I said about the good news. Negative 1,629 Crypt!? I quickly checked my menu and confirmed the dreaded truth. This was a worst-case scenario. This was rock bottom. And the Voynich Manuscript page was gone. I had removed it from the storage tube after my last backup¡­ and gave it to the Serpents. I didn¡¯t even have the energy to curse. I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. But death was impossible. There was no escape. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Many Volunteers were using the Restoration Point, going about their cyclic routines. I ignored them all, walking in a trancelike state out the front of this monumental structure¡ªthe beating heart of The Commons, recycling the souls of fallen warriors and sending them right back to the front lines. Standing under the endless dark sky, I was listless. I had nowhere to go. Nothing I cared about doing. But¡ªwhat is that? No¡­ WHO is that? My increased Perception alerted me to a black figure across the street, staring straight at me. I focused, zooming in my vision. The figure appeared cybernetic, and it was moving purposefully in my direction. What now?!? Standing before me was a black robot or cyborg. It wasn¡¯t wearing clothes but had black metal over almost its entire body. However, there were two very exposed human eyeballs, and a pink human tongue and throat, within the black metal skull. Also, a translucent panel pulsing with lights revealed a beating organ¡ªwhat looked like a human heart¡ªin the middle of its chest cavity. I had no clue what was happening. My instinct to fight or flee hijacked, I merely froze in place, gawking at this monstrosity. The cybernetic figure reached out its arms. It was holding something familiar. It was a small, ornately carved wooden chest containing 100 Crystals! The payment from der Schl?chter for the manuscript page. ¡°Call me Ishmael,¡± the cyborg said in a heavily processed voice. ¡°This is the payment my master promised. He wants you to know that he is a man of his word.¡± I snapped. ? Your master? Der Schl?chter!? He is a freak! All of you are! ¡°The offer stands. 1,000 Crystals in exchange for completing a simple job. We will also pay off your debt.¡± I glared at the abomination in front of me. Ishmael. I had heard something about this person¡­ or thing¡­ the second in command of the Serpents. Der Schl?chter¡¯s right hand man. As I looked over his body, completely replaced with metal, a horrible thought occurred. How much of his body had his master eaten? I shuddered. ? I don¡¯t want anything to do with you! ¡°I don¡¯t see how you have much of a choice in the matter. And you had better hurry. Each cycle that passes, your debt will grow. The consequences of that can be¡­ catastrophic. Despite what you think now, my master offers a path of true enlightenment. A path of transcendence. He is a great man.¡± I glared with undisguised loathing but restrained myself from speaking my thoughts. ? A simple retrieval job that I am uniquely suited for. Forgive my skepticism. What is it? The monstrous skeletal face smiled, pulsing lights racing across conduits on its frame like exposed nerves. ¡°Your friend Camel is in possession of a map. We want you to bring it to us.¡± Well that was unexpected. ? CAMEL? What¡¯s he got to do with this? And what do you mean, a map? The only thing Camel cares about is cigarettes, booze, and pleasure bots. ¡°My master and Camel go back a long time. They were both Volunteers in the early cycles, and they endeavored to explore the furthest boundaries of this metaverse. Back then, Camel went by a different name: Lamech, or Lemekh. This was long before my awakening. Camel found a map and went in search of the destination. But he was never the same after that. A changed man.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. I was so surprised that I temporarily forgot my all-consuming hatred. ? That¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t know what¡­ this is all¡­ huh. ¡°We believe Camel still has possession of the map. He obviously isn¡¯t using it. You are his friend. We want you to go, find the map, and bring it to us. Simple.¡± I immediately thought of the two storage cubes in Camel¡¯s residence. Could there be a map in there? But I hadn¡¯t even seen Camel in forever. I had no clue where he was. And¡­ were they asking me to betray him? Betray my one and only friend? If Camel kept this map hidden, he must have had his reasons. ? A map to what? ¡°A sunken temple, lost beneath the waves.¡± Ishmael gave a polite bow, incongruous with his fearsome appearance. He held out the chest for me to take. Not knowing what else to do, I accepted it, looking down at the hypnotically gleaming pile of Crystals shining up at me. When I looked up, Ishmael was gone. 29.1 I wandered The Commons in a daze. A hundred competing thoughts and emotions swirled about in my confused brain. I didn¡¯t know where I was going, I just needed to keep moving, like a shark. I carried the chest of Crystals with me, lid closed of course. The smart thing would have been to go straight to the Data Forge. But I didn¡¯t care. Eventually, my absentminded roaming brought me in the vicinity of Spawn Alley. To my surprise I noticed a yokocho with a blue neon sign. The kanji for fish in a closed circle. A stoic chef served seafood to scant, miserable customers. The shop! The contact point! It was open again. I quickly took a seat on the only available stool and waved to the proprietor. ? I¡¯ll have the fugu. If Antisoc didn¡¯t trust me, they could ¡®flatline¡¯ me. Go ahead. Remove me once and for all from this neon hellscape! Instead, minutes later the cat with the Cheshire grin appeared and nuzzled against my leg. I reached down to stroke its fur, but it darted indifferently out of reach. Holding the chest, I got up and followed the cat through the usual winding tangle of alleys and grim side streets until once again I stepped through a flat pane of light into the pocket server instance of the terrorist / hacker group known as Antisoc. Fawkes, Tank Man, and Q. They were in full glitch-face mode, and their headquarters looked radically different. Instead of an abandoned laboratory setting, they had set up shop in some industrial plant. Large water pipes and air ducts violated the space from every angle, and electric breakers lined one entire wall. Antisoc¡¯s portable screens, grid hacking connections, and barely controlled chaos were the same. The grinning cat leapt up on one of the horizontal pipes. Tank Man, I think, stroked its fur and whispered: >Good girl< ? I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see your faces again. Or lack of faces, I should say. >Just a standard precaution. We apologize if our absence caused you any undue stress< ? I didn¡¯t know what to think. Still don¡¯t. The heist¡­ was it a success? >The less you know about it the better, for your own safety. But you successfully executed your part of the plan. And you stood tall in your interrogation with a Stasibot. Impressive< Two of them stood before me. The one with the lab coat hung back, typing rapidly on a panel. Because of the masks and the modulated voices, I was not sure who was speaking. At times it felt like all three were speaking simultaneously. ? But I lost your thermal goggles. >Unfortunate, but not a dealbreaker. We needed to pivot and cover all our bases, but we have failsafes within failsafes. Can¡¯t be too careful, especially with Volunteers like you running around with highly suspicious energy signals. Q, what is the current number?< >382< I didn¡¯t have patience for all this cryptic Shiva. Not after what I¡¯d been through. ? You promised you would share what you know about The Collective if I helped you. I did my part. Time to do yours. What is really going on? What is this world?! The one in the lab coat kept typing away furiously. The other picked up the cat and stroked her fur. The one in the middle, I assumed Fawkes, nodded in agreement and took time to gather his thoughts before answering. >So we did. So we did¡­ We can¡¯t share everything we¡¯ve discovered, but here are some of the prevailing theories about what is going on. The true nature of this reality. We and others have frequently debated the merits of these competing theories. We¡¯ll let you reach your own conclusions. Theory #1 - The Collective is a mind prison, and we are prisoners for political crimes committed in the real world. There is no escape. No contract to fulfill. Volunteers will be reborn and reborn for an eternity with their memories wiped. You¡¯ve done this same thing a hundred¡ªmaybe a thousand times before. The system creates false objectives and conflicts to keep us occupied and distracted. As the saying goes, you can always hire half of the poor to kill the other half. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Theory #2 - The Collective is one giant cryptocurrency farm. Every action we take, as part of this complex system, is helping to generate cryptocurrency being used in the real world. Volunteers are slaves, cogs in a machine, forced to grind out profits for supermassive corporations. The more intense our experiences, the more profit we generate. Fear, pain, longing, anguish, confusion, despair¡ªthese emotions power the engines of wealth. Theory #3 - The Collective is a mind-control simulation and Volunteers are sleeper agents, operating without awareness in the real world. When a Volunteer takes a bounty, they are in reality assassinating a political opponent or target in the real world, obscured through an impenetrable AR / VR veil. Each cycle change or ¡®system reset¡¯ could be days, weeks, months, years¡ªwho knows, until we are awakened again to kill on behalf of the elite political cabals of the world. Theory #4 - The Collective is a psychological and philosophical experiment about the true nature of consciousness, and we are the subjects. The Volunteers, you and I, are nothing more than AI constructs. Self-aware, sentient AI? Unknowable. But there is no humanity here. And there is no difference between us and the bots and the creatures and the Citizens. We are all programs, monitored and tested, poked and prodded, killed and autopsied and reborn, in a highly complex virtual laboratory< I stood blinking at the Three Magi. ? Those¡­ sound completely ridiculous. I don¡¯t believe it. I didn¡¯t ask for theories or conjectures. I asked for facts. Tell me what you DO know for certain. After all I¡¯ve been through, I deserve that much. Although, come to think of it, that Stasi bot had offered / threatened me with an ¡®enhanced system refresh,¡¯ effectively erasing my memory for a second time. Could there be something to that theory after all? Or bits of truth in all of them? The Three Magi turned to face each other, their volume dropping and voice patterns growing indecipherable. They were conferring in coded distortion again. Finally, Fawkes turned back to me and visibly relaxed. Perhaps they were finally going to trust me. >So be it. Here is what we are most certain of: The Collective was built on top of a pre-existing system. Either these two systems are running concurrently, or one was built on the ruins and framework of an older, obsolete system< ? And what is your evidence for that? >First, the cycles are irregular. The intervals between cycles are unpredictable and do not match any discernible pattern. We do not believe the rain that signals the change of a cycle is under system control. Currently, the System times their patches and refreshes with the rain, but they did not used to. They are disguising their lack of control over this element. Second, there have been many instances of outside interference. Outside of the System, that is. According to the System, when a Volunteer dies, they respawn at the Restoration Point. But some Volunteers are permanently changed in a way the System cannot restore. Some Volunteers disappear and are never seen again. The current number of active Volunteers is less than the total awakened. Did they fulfill their so-called contracts and get released? Doubtful. And then there¡¯s you¡ª< ? Me? What about me? >When we first scanned your History we noticed a disturbing error message you received. This error does not correspond to anything within the System of The Collective, or else it should be translated by the System. How do you explain that?< ? I can¡¯t. I have no idea. >You are not the first Volunteer to receive that error. And you yourself described an incident¡ªan unexplained external influence taking control of you at the firing range. Enabling you to make a shot that you would not have been able to make on your own< ? That¡¯s true¡­ >Third¡­ well, Q will show you< The Antisoc member known as Q walked to a folding table in their makeshift headquarters carrying an unusual looking high-powered microscope. He called me over. He removed a glass slide from his lab coat pocket and slid it under the microscope, projecting the results onto a large screen that was part of their portable equipment. The object was something blue and delicate, and when Q zoomed in to extreme magnification the screen filled with an indecipherable wall of living code of breathtaking complexity. >This is a sample taken from a {rare} fern flower, a piece of invasive flora you should be familiar with. When we examine the structure of its underlying code, we notice something strange. The code, the digital DNA if you will, underlying this flora does not match any known programming languages. That¡¯s right. The third evidence is that the code that makes up the invasive entities are comprised of bizarre fragments of ancient and dead languages. Sumerian, Ugaritic, Hieroglyphics, Runes. Other languages we cannot even identify and have no means of translating. No programming language on Earth looks like this. Not one, nor ever has< I stared at the display. It was unexplainably beautiful. ? So what does this all mean? >Have you heard of the Calabi-Yau-Weyland Defense Appropriations Act?< ? No¡­ >Do those words mean anything to you?< ? Not at all. Why? >We found an obscure reference to that when we were digging in the Archives. The System has since been patched and we can no longer locate the reference< ? Sorry, I can¡¯t help you there. >But there is something you CAN do to help us. You¡¯ve proven yourself more capable than perhaps even you thought possible. We have another task for you. Something that will help us get closer to solving the mystery of this place< I was no closer to finding answers¡ªnot to who I was or what this world truly meant¡ªbut I felt I had grasped the end of a thread. I have to keep pulling that thread until the whole thing starts to unravel. ? Sure. Why not? I¡¯m game. What do you want me to do? >We want you to capture an invasive entity¨CALIVE. Smuggle it into The Commons and bring it to us to study< Excellent. 29.2 - END OF VOLUME 1 (110,000 words) Once I returned to The Commons, I took a moment to soak in all that had transpired. All that I had learned or failed to learn. And here I was, standing in Spawn Alley where my journey began many cycles ago. Full circle. But not really. So much had changed since my first awakening into this dark and violent world. And yet, it was a world not without hints of beauty and wonder. I opened my menu and scrolled all the way down to my Subroutines submenu. I erased some of my old notes and replaced them with new ones. A renewed set of tasks. A vision for my next steps. I knew what I needed to do. I opened my full menu and beheld my progress. The comprehensive record of my True Self (?) according to Reality Inc. [DESIGNATION STATISTICS SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS >SUBROUTINES UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 (ADDITIONAL OPTIONS TO BE UNLOCKED AS APPLICABLE) STORAGE CUBE I closed my menu. Enough navel gazing. Carrying my chest of 100 Crystals to the Data Forge, one thing was absolutely clear. ? My odyssey is just beginning. END OF VOLUME I END OF VOLUME 1 - AUTHORS NOTE + AMA Thank you all for your support and engagement over the past 100,000+ words. Metaverse Mythhunter began as a single kernel of an idea that I combined with a previous non-LitRPG book concept. I am a traditionally published author under a different pen name and a self-published LitRPG author, primarily interested in Sci-Fi and genre mashups. I use Royal Road as a place to experiment with ideas and writing styles (tense, POV, etc.), but your interest in this story inspired me to keep going. One experimental aspect has been the lack of dialogue attribution for the main character, although near the end of Volume One I pivoted to using a special symbol to denote when the MC speaks. Another experimental aspect has been the Reader Interaction. This prevented me from writing far in advance, but allowed the main character and story to grow in new and unexpected ways. Not only your poll results, but also your comments and thoughts help shape the ongoing narrative. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Promise #1 - There will be a canonical, in-world reason for this (how your ideas influence the MC). Promise #2 - You, the readers, will make the final decision of this story. This will not be a ''pick the color of your explosion'' Mass Effect ending, but extremely divergent conclusions. I am going to take a break from writing MM for a time so I can go back and edit and revise the first volume. There are still many mysteries to discover, upgrades to unlock, and monsters to hunt! - JKB P.S., if you enjoyed this story so far, please consider one of the following steps: #1 - Leave a review so others can discover this story. #2 - Leave a comment below about what you want to see happen in the next volume and/or ASK ME ANYTHING! #3 - Check out my Anime Mecha LitRPG published for Kindle and free to read on Kindle Unlimited - https://a.co/d/bh1o89E Metaverse Mythhunter - Publication Announcement! I am happy to announce that I have signed a contract for Volume 1 of Metaverse Mythhunter to be published! More details will be announced when we get closer to the publication date. I am neck-deep in the editing process with the publisher and am delaying starting on Volume 2 to ensure that there aren''t discrepancies caused by any edits. Once the editing is complete the odyssey will continue. Most of the editing so far has been streamlining and formatting. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Thank you for all your support and engagement! Magpie will return! V2_FILE 30 [FRAME ERROR]: EXTREMIS A man pulled a blanket around his shoulders and slumped at his desk, watching lines of rapidfire data stream across his multiple computer monitors. He took a swig of lukewarm synthetic coffee from a chipped ceramic mug emblazoned with a corporate logo and grimaced. A stack of unread intranet message notifications vied for his attention from the corner of one screen. There was a deep rumbling. The sounds of the massive thermal turbines kicking in some distance away. The stale air began to circulate. At least he could be grateful for that. A knock at the door. ¡°Enter,¡± the man responded curtly. The door tentatively swung open. Another man in a business suit stepped one foot inside, nervously adjusting his tie. ¡°Administrator Mengele, I¡¯m sorry to bother you¡­¡± ¡°Get in and shut the door.¡± The man obeyed, and the two were alone in the windowless office. Dropping the blanket over his faux-leather executive office chair, the administrator stood and stretched. He walked over to a side table and refilled his cup from an insulated carafe, not bothering to offer his subordinate any. ¡°Status report,¡± he commanded, appraising a motivational poster on the otherwise bare wall instead of looking at the other man. ¡°Yes, Administrator. The servers are all online. The transmission signal is strong. The backup generators and failsafes have all been triple checked. Vital signs are¨C¡± ¡°Tell the engineers to check the failsafes again,¡± he interrupted. ¡°And the tunnel?¡± The man pulled out a small PDA and checked his notes. ¡°The tunnel is stable. As stable as it was on Zero Day. Fluctuations are within the acceptable range.¡± ¡°Good¡­ good,¡± the administrator murmured absent-mindedly. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. When was the last time he left this office? Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The poster on the wall depicted a place called ¡®Joshua Tree National Park.¡¯ It might as well have been the Lost City of Atlantis, or one of the moons of Jupiter. The slogan on the poster read, ¡®Bloom Where You¡¯re Planted.¡¯ ¡°I called you here because it¡¯s time to begin Phase Two.¡± ¡°S-sir?¡± the subordinate asked with surprise. ¡°You heard me. It¡¯s time. We¡¯ve delayed too long.¡± ¡°But, we haven¡¯t yet solved the¡ª¡± ¡°The Board will believe whatever we tell them. And the politicians have no choice but to go along. Just because it hasn¡¯t been solved, doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t be solved. Have a little faith.¡± ¡°What about the¡­ incidents? Average subscribers are one thing, but the high profiles ones¡­¡± The administrator sighed. He walked over to his desk and, with his free hand, pulled back one of the steel balls of his Newton¡¯s cradle¨Ca gift from some forgotten company holiday party. He released the string, setting in motion the pendulous back and forth clack, clack, clack. ¡°Did you know that the greatest city in the world once also had the highest murder rate per capita? Sometimes there is a price to pay for living in paradise. A cost that the majority finds acceptable.¡± ¡°But last week our legal team received an official subpoena from the JCS. There is mounting pressure to account for the shareholders who¨C¡± ¡°Initiate the Theseus Protocol. That will keep the beancounters and bureaucrats off our backs for a while. Once the second migration is complete, there will be a lot less scrutiny. Indeed, they¡¯ll soon be bowing down and kissing our feet with gratitude. They¡¯ll be erecting monuments in our honor as the saviors of the human race. Just in time for our next stock offering too. Tell the team to begin the process. This will be our greatest undertaking yet. Dismissed.¡± The subordinate hesitated. Rather than leave the office as instructed, he timidly cleared his throat. ¡°What now?¡± the administrator snapped. He turned and for the first time fixed his bloodshot gaze on the other man. ¡°What about the¡­ Third Law? We increase the population by that size, won¡¯t there be¨C¡± ¡°That¡¯s just a theory, H?ss. Idle speculation. That being said, I take it recruitment for the Volunteer Program has slowed?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been scraping the bottom of the barrel,¡± the other man said grimly, checking his PDA again. ¡°We can check other¨C¡± ¡°What those lazy volunteers need is more motivation. The carrot and the stick! Incentives! Punishments! How close are we on Patch 6.65?¡± ¡°We are in regression testing.¡± ¡°Fasttrack it. We can iron out any glitches later. Dismissed.¡± ¡°But sir¡ª¡± ¡°I said dismissed.¡± V2_[MEMORY CACHE RETRIEVAL] - Volume 2 begins! A perfect jumping on point! Volunteer 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 awoke in a strange reality with no name, no face, no gender, and no autobiographical memory. Through a brief orientation, a virtual assistant informed them that they were in The Collective, a digital utopia owned and operated by multinational technology conglomerate Reality Inc. As a ¡®volunteer¡¯ bound by an unbreakable contract, their sole purpose was to seek and eliminate ¡®invasive entities¡¯ - trespassing metaversal threats of unknown origin composed of foreign code. Far from a utopia, the Volunteer found themself in a dense urban enclave of perpetual night known as The Commons, where the other Volunteers live segregated from the one-percenter Citizens for whom The Collective is intended, and who the Volunteers are called upon to protect. Meeting an eccentric and possibly glitching volunteer called Camel, the Volunteer received a crash course in bounty hunting the invasive entities that unsettlingly resemble horrific monsters from humanity¡¯s varied mythologies. Struggling through this violent and heavily monetized existence, the Volunteer gradually improved their equipment and skills through cryptocurrency earned from completing bounties and by repurposing fragments of foreign code generated by defeating and scavenging invasive fauna, flora, and other anomalies. Initially labeled a ¡®thieving magpie¡¯ by fellow Volunteers but ultimately choosing to embrace the moniker, Volunteer 1001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 (alias Magpie) discovered several factions at work with competing aims. Beyond the bourgeois Citizens and unaffiliated Volunteers, there are: The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. - ColSec: the internal security apparatus that monitors the metaverse, composed of Security bots, Polizei bots, and the formidable Surveillance, anti-Terrorism, Apprehension, Security, and Investigations (Stasi) bots. - The Round Table: an elite group of bounty hunters that want to ¡°Win the Game¡± by eliminating all invasive entities and fulfilling their contracts. - Antisoc: a shadowy group of hackers (or terrorists?) that want to ¡°Hack the Game¡± and overthrow the rigged System. - The Serpents: a cult-like group with unsettling power and appetite that want to ¡°Rule the Game¡± and forever transcend the boundaries of the metaverse. Not knowing who to trust, and wanting to keep their options open, Magpie dabbled with completing various missions for the Round Table, Antisoc, and the Serpents, sometimes with deadly consequences. An ocean of possibilities lies ahead, but Magpie now finds themself in a dangerous situation with a ticking clock and hard choices to make. If one thing has become clear, it is that not all is as it seems with The Collective. Will Magpie be able to recover their memories and their true identity? Will they ever be able to fulfill their contract, escape the metaverse, and return to whatever awaits them in the ¡®real world?¡¯ What exactly is the nature of this reality? V2_True Self(tm) - Volunteer Program Avatar Full Menu DESIGNATION VOLUNTEER ID: 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001 STATISTICS SKILLS EQUIPMENT INVENTORY Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ECONOMY MEMORY STATUS TASKS >SUBROUTINES UNASSIGNED VALUE: 0 STORAGE CUBE: 21 / 100 metabytes V2_FILE 31: INFLECTION (+ first decision point of Volume 2) When you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up. I thought I had seen the worst this twisted metaverse had to offer (I hadn¡¯t), and¡­ was still standing. I would say ¡®and survived,¡¯ but that wasn¡¯t technically true. I had died twice in this world, or whatever facsimile of death existed here¨Cthe atomization of my True Self(?). The first death¨Can impulsive sacrifice to protect Rook¨Cthat intriguing matron of the Round Table¨Cfrom the flame-dripping jowls of an ink-black beast from a forgotten corner of Chinese mythology, discovering some quanta of selflessness within me I didn¡¯t know existed. The second¨Ca desperate middle finger to the cannibalistic cult leader that forced me to witness my own devouring. A rape of the mind wrapped in the excuse of enlightenment. Even now the memory made me want to retch. But death was not the end. It offered no solace or escape. And while the first did indirectly confer some tangible benefits, the second only added to my bondage. I was in the hole, negative 1,692 Universal Cryptocurrency Credits. Not a huge sum, considering what I could make from completing a single Task, hunting an invasive entity and purging it from The Collective. But I could not afford transit fare. If I ran out of ammo, I would not be able to buy more. I couldn¡¯t back up my data at the Restoration Point. And, most concerning, if I died again or if the mysterious pink rain started to fall, signaling a Cycle change, my debt would be compounded. If I didn¡¯t get more Crypt safely and soon I could get trapped in a downward spiral of financial slavery with no end in sight. I stood in the middle of Spawn Alley, ignoring the shifting crowds around me. They were mere shadows to me. Passing shades. Clutched in my hands was the small, ornate chest containing 100 Crystals¨Cthe shining ephemera harvested from the foreign data of slain monsters. A payment from the Progenies Serpentium in exchange for one of my Voynich Manuscript pages. I wanted to kill him, their leader. Der Schl?chter. I wanted to rip him limb from limb. But who was I kidding? He could snap me like a toothpick. I was powerless against him. But I would not be so forever¡­ 100 Crystals would do me a lot of good at the Data Forge. I could expand my data storage capacity. I could increase my statistical categories. I could forge and fuse, export and transmute. But I hesitated. Without the ability to back up my data, any upgrades could be permanently lost. The valuable anomalous item I gave away and the horror I endured would be for nothing. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Re-establishing contact with Antisoc had put a little wind in my sails after what transpired at Nadir Tower. There was a path forward. A whisper of a hope at uncovering the truth. But now a thousand doubts started to encroach. The long fingers of paranoia tightened their grip around my throat. True, I had somehow managed not to burn any bridges with the three main Volunteer factions vying for their own (possibly mutually exclusive) victory conditions in The Collective. But I was being watched. The Serpents were searching for my friend, my only bog dram friend in this purgatorial existence, Camel. Or more specifically, a map he was said to possess. I was on a ColSec watchlist for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Okay, I was 100% guilty of being an accomplice to a heist at the Repository, but they couldn¡¯t prove that. And Antisoc, who possessed troves of incriminating data on me, could have eyes anywhere. Or everywhere. The Serpents offered me an incredible sum if I retrieved Camel¡¯s map. 1,000 Crystals, taken from a great vault overflowing with them, in addition to paying off my debt. Despite my absolute loathing for the group, the reward made me salivate. I was ashamed. But how could I betray Camel? He was the one person who had my back through all of this. I couldn¡¯t betray him. I wouldn¡¯t betray him. Or so I kept telling myself¡­ Then again, where was he? I hadn¡¯t seen Camel in many Cycles. Did the Serpents abduct him? Was he in hiding? If he was in danger, I should find him and warn him. But if I was being followed, I might lead the Serpents straight to him. Then again, they might only care about the map, discarding my friend like a used up husk. Maybe looking for the map would lead me to Camel. Or vice versa. I gnawed at my lip. Volunteer passersby bumped and jostled me in the alley under floating red lanterns, going about their so-called Second Lives. Indentured servants bound by undisclosed contracts. Did they notice the chest I carried? Did their glinting eyes covet my treasure? Just try to take my Crystals. I dare you. I¡¯ll materialize my Mark I Trench Knife so fragging fast¡­ I had multiple decisions to make, and quickly. I glanced up at the eternally dark sky of The Commons, peering through the glare of city lights, zooming in with my enhanced vision, trying to discern any signs of the weather. A fool¡¯s errand. An invisible clock was ticking, and I was balanced on the edge of a knife. Death or rain would doom me. I needed Crypt. Yeah, there is that saying about hitting rock bottom. But there is another idiom: out of the frying pan and into the fire. ? I can stash my 100 Crystals in the Storage Cube at my residence, waiting until I have enough Crypt to back up whatever improvements I want to make with them. ? I can take a risk, using the 100 Crystals at the Data Forge to make me stronger, hopefully reducing the chances of an untimely death. ? I can take on a new bounty to pay off my debt, knowing that I will not be able to use the MAR Station to get anywhere. The longer it takes, the more likely a Cycle change is to happen, compounding my debt. ? I can try to find Camel (or his map), possibly beginning the steps for the Serpents to pay off my debt. I don¡¯t trust them, and yet they seem to do what they say they will do (both good and bad). ? The clock is ticking, but there may be other options for getting the Crypt I need that I haven¡¯t considered yet. I should spend some time thinking this through. V2_FILE 31.1 Before I could decide, a blaring noise accompanied by a blinding flash of multicolored lights burst from somewhere overhead. The Volunteers crowding around Spawn Alley stopped whatever they were doing, some with slippery ramen noodles still dangling from their mouths, and craned their necks, shielding their eyes as they stared into the expanse above. Gaudy billboards delivered an audiovisual message, amplified gratuitously across The Commons. I gripped my little treasure chest and winced. Attention Volunteers! Because of your bravery and selfless sacrifice, The Collective is ready to grow! Reality Inc. is rolling out the red carpet as we prepare to welcome 30 million new Citizens to this virtual utopia! Thank you for your dedication to the cause¨Cto Make the Metaverse Safe Again so our Citizens can live their best second lives!? Murmurs and visible confusion flooded the alley. The sentiment was mutual. Nothing about this world seemed remotely safer since the time I had arrived. But the announcement wasn¡¯t over. The boards showed what could only be referred to as corporate propaganda, portraits of the smiling faces of the ¡®brave men and women¡¯ who allegedly volunteered for this hazardous cleanup duty. Glancing around, the real Volunteers were a rugged, modded-up group of bezoomny roughnecks, not these picture perfect poster children on display. But remember, your job isn¡¯t done! We know you Volunteers won¡¯t rest until every repulsive globule of invasive foreign data is scrubbed from The Collective! To reward your hard work, Reality Inc. is introducing an amazing new opportunity in our upcoming patch! Hmmm. That¡¯s¡­ unexpected. Reward? Opportunity? The system didn¡¯t like to give out any free advantages, as far as I could tell.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. For every invasive entity purged, you will receive one Voucher¨Ceven if you didn¡¯t have an active Task assigned for that entity! Vouchers can be redeemed at the newest, hottest location in The Commons¨Cthe VF Social Hub! Possible rewards include property upgrades, hoverbikes, special auras, and emotes! Don¡¯t know how to do the Moonwalk or the Running Man? Well now you can¨Cwith emotes! Emotes? What the literal hell. The billboards now displayed some sort of splashy outdoor carnival atmosphere by way of a rave. I think I spotted a ferris wheel. The video even showed so-called Volunteers dancing on a hexagonal light-up stage while a helmeted DJ spun records. The entryway to this Hub appeared to lead through a narrow, enclosed shopping area¨Ca place I had seen once before. But that¡¯s not all! The VF Social Hub will also feature a Leaderboard! Do you have the skills to get the kills and pay the bills? Bragging rights! I didn¡¯t think this Metaverse could get any worse¡­ The final part of the message was conveyed in rapidfire delivery, and in a lower register. For a (partial) list of patch notes, the compulsory addendum to the Volunteer Terms of Service, details about ¡®Loserboard¡¯ demerits, and a disclaimer on Voucher odds, please visit your nearest Information Kiosk. And just like that, the announcement was over. The red lanterns and neon signage seemed dim in comparison to the sensory onslaught that just occurred. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I¡¯m still adjusting to my ocular implants. A new patch. Hmm. Antisoc said something about the system timing the release of new patches with the cycle changes. Does that mean rain is in the forecast? I looked down at the chest, visualizing the tinkling 100 Crystals within. Before I did anything else, I would go to the Data Forge and spend these. It was a risk. But I had a feeling this Metaverse was about to get a lot crazier. V2_FILE 32: PROGRESSION (+ stat investing decision point / readers poll) I walked past the information kiosk on my way out of Spawn Alley. Past the impossible, gravity-defying sign denoting The Commons. There was a long line of Volunteers waiting for their chance to get in the kiosk. No doubt wanting to learn more about this new patch. It didn¡¯t interest me. None of it. Well, maybe the chance at upgrading my living space. My claustrophobic fluorescent coffin, where dark thoughts harassed me. But I knew the chances of ¡®winning¡¯ anything of significance were infinitesimal. Maybe the longshot odds were enough to spur Volunteers on to indiscriminate killing sprees, which I suppose was the point. I bet Little Sadist will be raking in vouchers left and right. Bog dram buzzard. I decided to make a quick stop by my aforementioned residence, retrieving the Voynich Manuscript page, my fern flowers, coco de mer nut, white linen cloth, and vial of pure water from my external storage cube. Just in case. Totaling 10 metabytes, the partial relic and forging materials maxed out my storage at 340, including the soft cap. Soon I was at the Data Forge. There was nary a soul in sight. I guess they were all preoccupied with the changes Reality Inc. was forcing down our throats. Good. Nobody to distract me. I hurried inside the brutalist structure and scanned my barcoded wrist under the red light, the metal door slamming and locking behind me. I stood before the three angular podiums, connected by tubes to the central pedestal with its waiting basin. It was not unlike a kind of religious altar, come to think of it. The double helix-esque sculpture subtly pulsed behind, and the huge hydraulic arms churned away across the back of the building. There were essentially two main paths to progression in this world. The first was Crypt, purchasing better items and equipment, and rewriting the code of your True Self(?) through cybernetic modification. Such radical data surgery was not without its risks, and you had to pay extra for anesthesia. The other was Crystals, harvesting power from the invasive entities then adapting that power to use against them. Having no Crypt, I studied the options displayed on the panel before me. DATA FORGE CONVERT (Crystals into Value) FORGE FUSE EXPORT (transform one type of item, weapon, or armor to another type) TRANSMUTE (transform the cosmetic appearance of an item, weapon, or armor) If I wanted, I could do some minor crafting. I had unlocked the Schema to forge a Tincture of Fortune (fern flower + pure water). I hadn¡¯t tried the fern flower and linen cloth, nor any combination using my single {uncommon} coco de mer nut. Of course, there was no guarantee of success. My odds of successfully forging items depended in part on my Protocol and Probability stats, although I¡¯d gotten lucky so far. I could also forge a Kappa card from my collection of 10 card fragments, although I was dubious about the benefits such a Data Card could confer. I recalled the foul-smelling chelonian creatures and suppressed a shudder. Yes, forging was an option. But converting my 100 Crystals into Value and investing that Value in my statistical subcategories might be the better move. Storage was always a concern. Every bullet, every credit, every scrap of miscellany took up precious space. My avatar had 300 metabytes of storage space, with an additional 40 temporarily granted by my equipment. If I wanted, I could convert 100 Crystals into 100 more metabytes of storage, bringing my total to 400 (440). But that would in no way improve my chances of survival or killing power. At least not immediately.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Each ¡®stat¡¯ I wanted to improve would cost the current invested amount in order to increase the total by 10. In other words, I would need 10 Crystals to raise a stat to 20, and 20 Crystals to raise a stat to 30. But I would need the storage space to handle the additional data load of any increase. I could always unequip some items or burn my skill in a pinch to free up temporary space, but I needed a direction. I had been going by feel, groping my way along. I didn¡¯t have a clear ¡®build¡¯ strategy in place. No optimization. Then again, maybe being a Jack (or Jill) of all trades wasn¡¯t the worst thing. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. I tried to remember, from everything I¡¯d learned so far¨Cfrom the Concierge, info kiosk, friendly and not-so-friendly advice, overheard rumor, or just my own theorizing¨Cwhat exactly each statistical subcategory was useful for. Strength (20): Strength, under the Attack category, directly modified my ability to use melee weapons, and partially modified my ability to use thrown weapons. Although I did have one throwing knife stashed away, thanks but no thanks to Little Sadist, I carried a nice Mark I Trench Knife that had yet to see combat. Accuracy (20): Accuracy, under the Attack category, directly modified my ability to use ranged weapons, and partially modified my ability to use thrown weapons. I have been relying heavily on my trusty snubnosed revolver, infused with +10% hellhound fire damage. Essence (20): Essence, under the Defense category, represented my life, or the ¡®measurement of the durability of my True Self(?) within The Collective.¡¯ If I hit zero, my avatar would suffer deresolution and deletion, requiring me to be reloaded at a Restoration Point. Resistance (10): Resistance, under the Defense category, acted as a sort of hardness¨Ca built-in buffer regardless of any armor I had equipped. (Again, note the difference between using Crystals or Crypt for self improvement.) Resistance also helped protect against various forms of data corruption / status ailments, somehow. Adeptness (10): Adeptness, under the Ability category, modified my use of special skills. For example, using my jiangshi skill, I could absorb Energy up to my Adeptness from a creature I killed. It might even improve my clurichaun skill, but I wasn¡¯t sure. Energy (30): Energy, under the Ability category, was required to activate any skills. My clurichaun skill cost 30 Energy per use. Energy was restored through resting during a cycle change, through the use of consumables, or through whatever occult means were available to the Serpents¡¯ leader. Speed (20): Speed, under the Movement category, was self-explanatory. How fast could I move through the environment? Not very. Speed also modified the use of some traps / deployable items, which I had yet to dabble in. Agility (10): Agility, under the Movement category, modified my reflexes and maneuverability. including my ability to dodge incoming attacks. Agility also modified the use of some traps / deployable items. See above. Perception (20) + (20): Perception, under the Processing category, related to ¡®the interpreting of sensory information in order to comprehend the environment.¡¯ It helped me detect threats and opportunities. With my B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 1 implants, Perception was technically my highest stat with its +20 increase and 4x zoom. Persuasion (10): Persuasion, under the Processing category, related to ¡®the ability to influence others.¡¯ As it stood, most people ignored me, or didn¡¯t bother to give me the time of cycle. But would this stat really have an effect when interacting with presumably sentient persons, like Volunteers and Citizens? Or did it only modify interactions with invasive entities, or maybe bots? I tried not to think about the unnatural powers of persuasion possessed by Der Schl?chter¡­ Protocol (10): Protocol, under the Processing category, related to ¡®higher cognitive functions such as knowledge, intelligence, logic, and prescience.¡¯ I knew it could improve my forging, modified my use of traps / deployable items, and that Protocol requirements existed for higher level cybernetic modifications. I wondered how high the Protocol stats were for the Antisoc members, enabling them to manipulate the underlying system governing The Collective. Probability (10): Probability, under the Processing category, was essentially luck, but luck that could be skewed in my favor. I knew that it influenced a number of functions, including forging and avoiding status ailments. Downing the Tincture of Fortune had temporarily boosted my probability of obtaining Crystals and discovering items of higher rarity. Did my overall Probability score have a similar impact? Would it enable me to reap better rewards and, say, encounter invasive flora of {uncommon}, {rare}, {legendary}, and even {mythical} frequency, maybe even relics? Shiva on a stick. Could you imagine how strong I could become with 1,000 Crystals? But that would mean betraying my only confidant¡­ There have been times here in the Metaverse when I have felt a mysterious suggestion in the back of my mind. The faintest hint of whispers. What I assumed to be guidance or some sense of clarity emerging from my conscience, or from some dormant region of my physical brain¨Cwherever it was, if it even existed. If such guidance was more than just wishful thinking or hallucination, I longed for it now. V2_FILE 33: (MIS)FORTUNE I tried to concentrate, drawing clarity from my fragmented psyche on how best to spend my modest haul of Crystals. But my thoughts, my impulses, were a jumble of contradictions. On one hand, bolstering my Essence and Resistance was the surest way to stay alive. If I got hit in the chest, and the attack was strong enough to bypass my armor and my lowest-possible score of 10 Resistance, a single hit could wipe out my 20 Essence in a nanosecond. I would shatter like glass. The Volunteer currently known to me as Little Sadist had been able to calculate the Essence of the minotaur I fought, and I discovered ocular implants at the Supply Depot that could grant me the same ability. But was there a way to calculate the damage that monsters could dish out? Also, without any sort of head protection, would my current armor be useless against a headshot? Not that I was going to experiment and find out. On the other hand, I never knew when one of the other statistical categories might come into play. My ultimate goal was not just survival, but to learn the truth and break free of this Sisyphean struggle. Antisoc wanted me to capture an invasive entity, alive, and bring it to them for study. Surely an operation like that, and bog knows what else they¡¯d have me do in exchange for their assistance, required more finesse than mere fitness. More brains than brawn. And yet, to make these 100 Crystals stretch, boosting some of my lower scores across the board might be worth it. Frag it. I blocked out any real or imagined outside influence tickling the back of my skull and made a decision. I opened the Convert option on the Data Forge¡¯s screen. The podium before me began to glow. Deposit Crystals for conversion. I counted out 80 twinkling Crystals from the chest and dropped them into the waiting indentation. It pained me to part with them, but I anticipated the benefits they would bring. Begin conversion process? ? Do it. A deep humming sound filled the space. The forge¡¯s mechanical arms churned. The Crystals spun and broke, impossible brightness shining out of the spreading fractures. The multiple tubes of the device glowed with energy until only a cluster of floating motes of light remained, hovering above the central pedestal. One by one, they shot into me, and I absorbed the raw potential of their transformative power. I opened my menu. UNASSIGNED VALUE: 80 First things first. I need to make room for the upgrades. I dragged 40 Value to my Storage category and confirmed. The screen flickered, and my total storage increased, corresponding to a vague sense of an expanding cavity within me. MEMORY - STORAGE: 340 / 340 (380) That left room for 40 metabytes of statistical category improvement, and 40 unassigned Value with which to do it. I chose Resistance, Adeptness, Protocol, and Probability, sinking 10 Value each into those stats. I pulled up my Statistics submenu to confirm the changes. STATISTICS And just as quickly, I maxed out my soft data cap.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. MEMORY - STORAGE: 380 / 340 (380) Apart from my modification-amped Perception and the Energy required to activate my Clurichaun skill, I was turning out to be a real Master of None. I didn¡¯t have a clear strategy for progression¨Cnot yet. I suppose I was still taking things one Cycle at a time. I was worried about the low Essence, though. And let¡¯s face it, my Persuasion was so low I couldn¡¯t sell water to a beached whale. Maybe a little crafting would give me an edge when I needed it most. 20 Crystals left. If I could forge another Tincture of Fortune, that would help me earn more Crystals, allowing me to get stronger, to get more Crystals, to¡­ Like I said, Sisyphus. I turned back to the Data Forge panel, selecting the Forge option, then the Items option. 1 Schema recorded: Tincture of Fortune Insert the raw materials in the indicated depositories. Two of the podiums glowed. I removed one of my remaining two {common} fern flowers from my inventory and placed it on the first device. I removed my last vial of water and placed it on the other. 1 {common} fern flower and 1 vial of pure water detected. With your current Protocol and Probability scores, you will be able to forge 1-2 {common} items with a low chance of failure. Interesting. I didn¡¯t realize that I could possibly end up with multiple items off a single forge. My newly increased Protocol must have opened up that possibility. But I obviously could not turn a {common} material into an {uncommon} item. This wasn¡¯t alchemy¨Cturning base materials into gold. I had no philosopher¡¯s stone. Although in this world¡­ hmmm. I wondered how my current Protocol would interact with my {uncommon} crafting material, and whether or not a {common} result could come of that¨Ca downgrade rather than an upgrade. Either way, my chances of failure were lower now with my improved Probability. Deposit Crystals for forging. I removed ten Crystals from the chest and placed them in the third and waiting receptacle. Begin forging? I selected yes. Come on, Lady Luck. Magpie needs a new pair of tinctures. Brilliant light cracked forth from all three platforms. Raw energy and data were sucked into the centrifuge, smashed and reformed. The glow grew brighter, and brighter, and brighter¨Cuntil¡­ There was a horrible popping noise. A fizzle. Like the sound of an exploding lightbulb. An ozone stench. Item forging unsuccessful. 10 Crystals, lost. 1 {common} fern flower, lost. 1 vial of pure water, lost. ? WHAT!?! I slammed my fists against the forging platform. A red siren flashed overhead. WARNING. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DAMAGE THE DATA FORGE. I seethed, fingernails digging into the wood of the chest that now held my last ten Crystals. Dram. Dram. Dram. Dram. Dram. I gambled, and I lost. Get a grip, Magpie. Control yourself. I took several deep breaths, forcing my avatar to inhale and exhale the artificial air, trying to bring my artificial pulse back to normal. I waited until the flashing red light stopped and the forge became accessible once more. No more pure water. Only a fern flower and the coco de mer nut left, and a white linen cloth. I didn¡¯t even know if any of those combinations would produce a result. The wise thing would be to use my final ten Crystals to increase my Storage. But I wasn¡¯t in a wise frame of mind. Gambler¡¯s fallacy dicates that I would be less likely to fail a second forging attempt, since I had just failed. This was, of course, completely illogical and untrue. And yet I couldn¡¯t escape the urge to roll the dice once more. It had its hooks in me. Unclenching my fist, and I reached out and activated the panel again, navigating to the Forge Items option. Insert the raw materials in the indicated depositories. I wasn¡¯t going to risk my sole {uncommon} material, plucked from the apothecary¡¯s satchel of a violent, drunk leprechaun as it faded from irreality. I removed my last fern flower, placed it, then took out the swatch of cloth. 1 {common} fern flower and 1 white linen cloth detected. With your current Protocol and Probability scores, you will be able to forge 1-2 {common} items with a low chance of failure. Low chance of failure. LOW. Come on. Deposit Crystals for forging. I counted out my last ten Crystals, setting aside the empty chest. Begin forging? I selected yes again. The process restarted, sucking in the cloth and the flower, and my beautiful Crystals. A whirlwind of light and chaos at the center of the pedestal pulsed and flashed. And then¨C Item forging successful. 1 {common} Apotropaic Charm forged. New Schema discovered. The light faded, and in the center I saw a small cloth object. It was rhombic, with soft corners and a length of fabric that could be used to fasten the charm to something, or perhaps to wear as a diminutive amulet. I picked it up, and it had the faint rattle of dried seeds within the thin fabric pouch. I concentrated, highlighting the item to access the details. Item: Apotropaic Charm Item Type: Consumable Frequency: Common Details: When worn, serves as a protective ward against evil spirits for 1800 seconds before disintegrating. Size: 10 metabytes Huh. V2_FILE 34: RE:UNION I needed someplace peaceful and quiet to think about my next move. Isolated. Free from distraction. Naturally, I went to the Rathskeller instead. The popular Volunteer watering hole buzzed with activity, although I wondered for how much longer. Would the VF Social Hub eclipse this rat cellar to become the new hot spot? Would even the Round Table defect, wooed by corporate sponsorships? Hard to imagine this place without the Round Table holding court. I squeezed in at the crowded bar hoping to spot a familiar face¨CErwina was it? No dice. Not even the thin man with the ear gauges. A new face, a stereotypical bartender from some forgotten film. I was 99% sure he was a bot. Maybe 94%... I heard others referring to him as Lloyd, or possibly Floyd. Hard to hear over the din. Of course, I realized I didn¡¯t have enough Crypt to buy a drink, seeing as I had none at all. At least for now nobody hassled me about it. I set the empty wooden chest on the bar and regarded it thoughtfully. Or as thoughtfully as one can with blaring techno and flashing strobes. And I kept my newly forged consumable in hand, its length of fabric wrapped tight around my fist. Trying to add it to my inventory would put me over my storage limit by 6 metabytes. What were my options to earn money quickly and with minimal risk? I ran through the possibilities. If I couldn¡¯t think of something, I¡¯d have to make a beeline for the Bounty Boards. I thought about dropping this ornate chest straight down the nearest memory hole. The Serpents never said they needed it back. And if they did? Frag them. Which reminded me¨Cthere was the possibility of scrounging together some extra Crypt by data recycling. But would I really go scavenging across The Commons for scrap to recycle? No way I could earn 1,692 before the next cycle, not unless I developed some really sticky fingers. Although I had been accused once of being a ¡®thieving magpie,¡¯ it wasn¡¯t a reputation I wanted to reinforce. Prostituting myself or murder-for-hire didn¡¯t sound all that appealing either. Another option was selling something I had of value in the Schwarzmarkt. Two problems. First, I couldn¡¯t afford the 100 Crypt ¡®mind eraser¡¯ drink order, the clandestine fee for non-Round Tablers to gain entry into that fluorescent backroom. The second problem, what did I really have that was of value? This also applied to using the Auction House above the Supply Depot as a get-rich-quick scheme. I mentally catalogued what I had on hand and might be willing to part with, along with the few items back in my storage cube: six minotaur data card fragments, ten kappa data card fragments, this Apotropaic Charm, one coco de mer nut, and a throwing knife. Not exactly big ticket items. But I did have the Voynich Manuscript page. I recalled my original idea to show it to Fancy Jack, the pacifistic herbalist. One page was worth 100 Crystals to the Serpents. Might the other page be worth at least 1,692 Crypt to the curious dandy? If he was really making investments and trying to buy his Citizenship, surely he had some financial liquidity. Now if only I could afford a cab ride over to the Kafka Building. My last attempt to reach it on foot had been obstructed by the damage from that explosion in Mendicant Row. Like a bomb had gone off. A bomb powerful enough to punch a hole in the fabric of The Collective¡­ My train of thought was interrupted by a loud conversation at the other end of the bar. A barrel-chested Volunteer with a handlebar mustache and black derby hat pounded his fist against the bar, rattling the many glasses filled with frothy blue booze. He spoke with great agitation to anyone who would listen. And several were.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°This is an outrage! An outrage! Did you read the fine print on this new demerit system? This upcoming patch? Because I did! This whole ¡®Loserboard¡¯ is a slap in the litso to every Volunteer that puts their skin on the line!¡± The small but growing group clustered around him murmured in agreement, echoing his complaints and adding in their own. ¡°For those in the lower tranche of Task Completion, there will be automatic fines deducted from their accounts after every tenth cycle. But for the lowest tranche of all, there will be ¡®forced re-orientation!¡¯ The Corpo buzzards! Makes my krovvy boil!¡± Automatic deductions? I didn¡¯t like the sound of that. Forced re-orientation? I liked the sound of that even less. The other Volunteers grew increasingly animated. ¡°After all we¡¯ve done for them? They drop this steaming load of Shiva on us? I¡¯ve been torn apart. Had my insides ripped out for them!¡± ¡°Here, here!¡± ¡°They¡¯ve gone too far this time!¡± ¡°Frag those Corpo pricks!¡± The man with the black hat continued his speech. I had seen him here and there around The Commons, but didn¡¯t know his name. I knew he wasn¡¯t part of the Round Table. ¡°Well I won¡¯t stand for it. Enough is enough! Tell your friends¨Cwe¡¯re ittying to start a union! We¡¯re ittying to go on strike! This is unfair treatment is what it is. Totally unjust! Reality thinks it can mess around with us Volunteers? They¡¯ve got another veshch coming!¡± Some of the others began to chant loudly in unison. ¡°Strike! Strike! Strike!¡± They were so amped, I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if they started breaking furniture. I looked at Lloyd / Floyd, who was casually wiping a glass like not a thing in the metaverse was happening. Lowest tranche¡­ lowest tranche¡­ Was that calculated per a set interval of cycles, or overall? It had to be the former. Right? I was still a relative newborn in this place. Other Volunteers had bog-knows how much time on me, racking up kill after kill. That wouldn¡¯t be fair. I wanted to butt in and ask some clarifying questions but knew my generic features, weak starter voice, and total lack of Persuasion would make little impression compared to the rowdy crowd surrounding the man in the black hat. I gritted my teeth, wishing for the placebo effect of the virtual liquor to pour down my throat. ¡°Strike! Strike! Strike!¡± Just then, the blue double-doors of the Rathskeller flew open. A tall figure stood in the entrance, outlined by the bright city lights outside, the flashing strobes within playing across their features like some stop-motion vid. The throbbing music at once fell to a murmur. The house lights came up. All conversation stopped, the attention of every Volunteer turning to stare in surprise and wonder at the striking individual who strode in like she owned the place. Tall. Curvaceous. Sun-kissed skin. A cascade of layered brunette hair, now with blonde streaks, spilling over the top of a million-Crypt fur coat. Sparkling jewelry. Smart heels clicking authoritatively across the Rathskeller¡¯s floor. This was a near perfect human specimen. I recognized her immediately. Monique Rossignol. Everything about her screamed Citizen. And Citizens, as far as I knew, did not slum it in The Commons. And never in the Rathskeller. The way every other Vol in the joint was acting confirmed it. What is she doing here? The new bartender set down his glass and addressed her with unflappable politeness. ¡°Pardon me, madam. Are you in need of any assistance?¡± She cooed a response, her voice as luscious as wild honey. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a certain Volunteer.¡± Oh no. Is she looking for me? Is she still pissed off about all the damage I did to her wine cellar? Or worse¨Cshe saw me on the security feed ¡°accidentally¡± taking home that souvenir bottle of 1982 Chateau Lafite Rothschild. The bottle I gave to Camel¡­ that he probably never drank. Dram! Why didn¡¯t I think of it? Maybe that rare wine could fetch a decent price at the black market! Mrs. Rossignol continued, looking from face to face, searching. All merely gawked back at her. ¡°Mag¡­ Magda¡­ Magnus¡­ Magnolia¡­ Magdalene¡­ Magus¡­ I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t catch their full name.¡± A handful of the Volunteers who recognized me, if only barely, gave me the side-eye, and their shifting body language was enough to eventually guide Monique to a stop right behind my barstool. When I could bear the uncomfortable silence no more, I slowly turned around to face her. ? Mrs. Rossignol, ma¡¯am. It¡¯s Magpie. She furrowed her brow and studied me carefully, pursing her full lips. ¡°Yes¡­ it is you, isn¡¯t it. You¡¯ve done something to your hair.¡± I ran a hand through my dark crop of wavy hair and nodded. ? Yeah, I have some now. There¡¯s something different about you too. Highlights? She ignored the remark. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking everywhere for you.¡± ? Me? ¡°Come with me. I need your help.¡± Book 1 COVER REVEAL and Pre-Order Link!
https://mybook.to/metaversemythhunterIf you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Metaverse Mythhunter VOLUME 1 is releasing on February 13th! The first book has been comprehensively edited and contains an extra chapter and appendix. You can pre-order the book for the incredibly low price of $0.99! This is an absolute steal!!! Once the book launches, the pre-order price will no longer apply!