ã€ŠEmperor NPCã€‹


 [Volume 1: Ego Crisis] Chapter 1: Memories of Akaron Velsado

    I met him when I was a child. My adult minders ushered me onto the palace balcony and I squeezed its black-marble railing with my small hands. The vast Demon Capital, Darigon, and the wide avenue that was its main artery laid far beneath my feet. I recognized him when he strode through the inner gate, the one the peasants feared; whom the burghers cheered and nobles breathlessly awaited. He was eight feet tall, appeared even larger atop the saddle of his black drake, and wore his invincible black-red plate armor, forged in the world¡¯s life-fire. Only his orange eyes were visible through crescent visor of his helm, flashing bright like candle flames. He did not wave to the citizens, but led his procession of black-clad soldiers in silence. Behind him, saddled on their own Nightmares¡ªflaming, black horses bred with devilkin¡ªwere the four Demon Lords: Men and women who stood at the pinnacle of power, they embodied the absolute supremacy of the Demon Empire.

    The crying throngs raised up their hands, desperate for a touch of his drake¡¯s scales. The imperial guards, identified by the red tassels on their helmets, kept them at bay with their lances. He had finally returned from his conquest. The entire world had come to rest in the grasp of his talon gauntlets. I knew, even as a boy, that men uncountable had died at his hands, but how would I quantify one-hundred, one-thousand, or one-million? I had just three minders at my side, and if even one were killed, I couldn¡¯t imagine the sorrow I¡¯d feel.

    Later that evening I stood in the amphitheater of the throne room and awaited his call. I would let the orange eyes of the Demon Emperor, visible through visor of his black helm, fall coldly on my face. And he would say the words I¡¯d awaited:

    ¡°This boy is my heir.¡± His stoic voice resonated in the walls, shook the foundations of the palace, and therefore, the world. ¡°I give him his new name: Akaron Velsado.¡±

    I wondered if Velsado was the emperor¡¯s surname, but I came to think he invented the name. An akaron was a type of long sword with a honed point, and the velsado was the traditional word for a theater¡¯s curtain call. It was a romantic way to call me Sword Finale, or the Sword of the Finale. As a boy, I didn¡¯t understand the allusion, but I knew for certain that the man called emperor, the demon of humankind, would do nothing for my sake. He may as well have called me a device before the world.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    I knew that, because I could quantify, even in my small mind, exactly how meaningless I was. The answer to my question of one million, or ten million, or one hundred million deaths was realized the day I first saw him on the balcony, as he led his procession of demon warriors. It seemed no one could tell that darkness had fallen on the horizon. All the orange-cream colors of the horizon were made bleak by shadow and even the sun dimmed under a veil. The celebrating crowds couldn¡¯t see the emperor¡¯s pitiless black aura: a shadow darkened by the enormity of his mana. When he passed through the gate, the demon emperor released the full measure of that magic, and revealed a vastness that eclipsed the sky, one that I¡ªonly I¡ªcould understand. From far away he turned his eyes up to the balcony, and with my Eyes of the Sorcerer, I saw him for what he was.

    The Demon Emperor sat on a gold-leafed throne, but beneath its glimmer were bones. The emperor, his palace, and the empire itself sat on the bones of a billion lives. His dark soul howled with fathomless power torn from lifeless husks of men he¡¯d destroyed. In his presence I felt them as invisible hands that tugged at my body.

    The moment I was given my name, the nobles of the demon court erupted in applause. They expected me to turn and bow, but before I greeted the citizens of my eternal, my invincible, my ineffable Demon Empire, I exchanged words with the emperor himself. It was through our eyes, messages communicated by the power of my Eyes of the Sorcerer and his Eyes of the Emperor. I was just eight years old, but I knew why an orphan from the far-flung frontier was brought to the capital. I knew how small I was. I knew how meaningless I was, however¡­

    ¡°I will kill you.¡±

    The emperor stared. His aura, concentrated into black fire, crawled up across his armor.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±

    Those words, exchanged soundlessly through the power of our eyes, were the only words we shared as ¡®father and son.¡¯ For fifteen more years I trained, learned, and enhanced my body with all the powers of the world. As one of the few sorcerers alive, my magic was all that could challenge the Demon Emperor. That was what the white-haired man said, and with my eyes I understood the truth.

 Chapter 2: Prince and Emperor

    The Demon Empire¡¯s capital city, Darigon, was built in middle of a great ocean. From a lonely outcropping of ancient ruins that stood against the waves, it grew first by floats and pontoons, then it floated by the strength of the demon emperor¡¯s magic. From there he plotted his conquest, and protected their world¡¯s secret. Beneath the palace, down through the tunnels of the original island, was a deep dungeon built by humanity¡¯s forefathers. In its darkest place, the lowest chamber, was a power that could surpass the emperor¡¯s dark magic.

    From the center of an arcane circle, Prince Akaron Velsado, one and only heir to the Demon Empire, cast his spell. ¡°Light Magic: Orb of Light, Level 3,¡± he spoke the words that would bind the elements to his will. A globe of light appeared in his outstretched hand. It shined to all corners of the hall, banished the darkness and revealed those cloaked around the circle. There were sixty of them, faces hidden beneath black hoods. Velsado tossed the orb gently and it floated to a fixed position above him.

    ¡°It¡¯s larger than I imagined,¡± a man said as he approached the prince. He kept his feet outside the circle. ¡°This door to the underworld.¡±

    Prince Velsado pulled back his own hood. He was a beautiful man. His tan, handsome face had just the right proportions and his short, soft golden hair was the perfect shade and length. His body, hidden beneath his dark robe, was slender and fit, made strong by his training. He was not as tall as his father at just six-feet, but he cut a courageous figure. Those that followed him into the dungeon knew there could be no better hero.

    ¡°These halls were made for giants,¡± Velsado said and flashed a white smile, ¡°doors like these are fit only for the ancients, and men of our caliber. Behold the power granted to us Warriors of Light¡­ the Stone of Unsealing!¡±

    By the snap of his fingers a misshapen stone rustled up from the smooth floor. It levitated to a position ahead of the prince. The only thing that distinguished this stone from a chunk of granite was the golden symbol of a key etched on its flat side. The prince gestured with his hand and rotated the key-face toward the gloomy door. It was certainly tall enough for giants, bound by iron chains and innumerable locks.

    With this key, I will fulfill my destiny, the prince thought. That is what the white-haired man said. I saw the truth with my eyes, the power I need is definitely here!

    ¡°Activate!¡±

    The stone flashed gold and the chains across the door crumbled to dust. Those closest to the door moved immediately to the long bars bolted at human-level. They pushed, hard as they could, and sure enough the door creaked open.

    ¡°Thirty will stay behind,¡± the prince commanded. ¡°The rest are with me, including the lords, and our best warriors. I¡¯ll leave it to you, but make haste!¡±

    The cloaked man who¡¯d spoken earlier nodded. He turned sharply and barked orders with the cadence of a commander. ¡°You two are with me, groups three and four stand guard,¡± he said, his voice carried to the distant black of the hall far behind them.

    The prince and his party ventured into the chamber. There¡¯s no book in the libraries of Darigon that bears mention of this place, the prince thought with a smile. No map, no record of construction, or its exploration. Only the white-haired man knew. Ghost¡­ a strange name, but it¡¯s fitting you¡¯d lead me to this place.

    ¡°Prison of the Underworld, Prometheus,¡± Velsado whispered. He flicked his hand and sent forth the bright orb into the chamber. His eyes rounded with awe.

    The circular chamber was as large as the emperor¡¯s court, surrounded by long benches on all sides. It descended, like an amphitheater, to a low point where a broken column stood. The column was wide, at least as wide as the ancient world trees that had lived for centuries. Thirteen black chains, thick enough to bind a dragon, stretched from the walls to the base of the column.

    ¡°What power do you think we¡¯ll find, my prince?¡± a cloaked woman asked.

    ¡°When I look at this place, I can only imagine that it¡¯s the root of the world, and that broken column¡­ could it be a spigot?¡± he answered with the wonder of a child. ¡°We have long asked why so few sorcerers were born. Perhaps these chains are the restraints that keep the world¡¯s magic in check.¡±

    ¡°Then, to defeat the demon emperor¡­?¡± the woman wondered.

    ¡°We need only remove these restraints and restore what was sealed.¡±

    ¡°Take positions around the room!¡± the cloaked man from before shouted orders. ¡°This is the rebellion¡¯s most critical moment. Let no one interrupt the prince!¡±

    Members of the rebellion, the demon empire¡¯s one facet of resistance, grumbled, but carried out their duty. They wanted to be near the prince, to see salvation up close. It was unthinkable that anyone could have followed them. The demon emperor was occupied with rioters in the city above, and the demon lords themselves were far from the capital, suppressing distant revolts activated for that very day.

    The man removed his hood. He was old, of pale complexion, scarred many times over his face, and most heavily over his right eye. The balding man approached the prince who stood at the foot of the column. ¡°I know that we¡¯ve taken every precaution, but even so¡­¡± he whispered urgently.

    Velsado saw fear in the red of his left eye. Knight Captain Aglifer, leader of the knights that protected Darigon, knew the power of the demon emperor just as well as the prince.

    ¡°I understand,¡± the prince said and patted Aglifer¡¯s shoulder. It clinked with the sound of the plate armor hidden beneath the cloak. ¡°Against my father, there¡¯s no such thing as being too careful.¡±

    The time was at hand. Ghost had revealed to Velsado the chamber, the key, and the magic that it sealed. He also said that Velsado was the only one that could ¡®interface¡¯ with the column. The prince didn¡¯t understand the word, but that could only mean his unique trait, the Eyes of the Sorcerer, would come into play. He smirked; it was funny to think that his cursed eyes, which had brought so much pain to his homeland, would be the tool necessary for saving the world.

    With some trepidation the prince raised a quivering hand and touched the stone altar at the column¡¯s base. It scintillated with blue light, excited by his touch. Arcane symbols appeared in blue glyphs on the surface. Although Velsado couldn¡¯t read the symbols, he could understand the intentions behind them: Eyes of the Sorcerer revealed the true forms of nature and men. With it, he could see magic, but he could also understand the intentions of humans, animals, and as he saw, the will of the ancients that came long before him.

    ¡°Status: Ark World Configuration Spire destroyed,¡± he read aloud. ¡°All player accounts suspended. Initiate recovery procedure?¡±

    There were two blue boxes highlighted beneath the question, marked with the arcane symbol Y and N. Y was the symbol for acceptance and confirmation, associated with lost commercial magic found only in books. The prince¡¯s hand hovered over the Y.

    ¡°Aaaaaaayyyyck!¡±

    The scream of a comrade pierced the dark hall behind them. The prince turned sharply and heard not another, but two dozen more. They were the screams of his precious allies, men and women of the resistance. For warriors of their strength and skill to fall so quickly, it could only mean one thing.

    ¡°No!¡± the prince shouted, wide-eyed. ¡°It¡¯s too soon!¡±

    ¡°Rangers!¡± Knight Captain Aglifer took charge. ¡°Ready your skills!¡±

    Bow-wielding warriors took stances with their longbows, drew back their strings with barbed arrows.

    ¡°Hawk Eye, Rank 4! Hunter¡¯s Mark, Rank 4! Windshot, on my command!¡±

    The warriors whispered those words quietly. Velsado saw them around the room, their bodies seethed with the green aura of agility-based skills.

    ¡°Trueshot Aura!¡± Aglifer shouted and a bright blue circle flashed, expanded across the room, and disappeared in the blink of an eye. The prince could see its subtle blue hue attached to the aura of the rangers.

    ¡°Windshot, Rank 4¡­¡± Aglifer said, plated hand held high. ¡°Fire!¡±

    The rangers uttered those final words and their arrows shined emerald green. With perfect aim, enhanced by their skills, they fired arrows into the dark hall. Guided by gusts of wind, they found their mark.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Aaaaaayyyyykk!¡±

    A long, tearful scream erupted from the hall. There were murmurs of hope around the prince, but Velsado¡¯ heart only sank. His father would never make such a pained cry. A body, hurled from the dark, confirmed the prince¡¯s fears. Arrows snapped from a cloaked warrior¡¯s corpse as it tumbled down into the chamber. Each arrow had found an unfortunate victim.

    Black mist rolled out from the hall. Metallic steps that could be concealed by magic were audible to the prince. They were heard, loudly, by everyone. He wants us to know, the prince thought in a cold sweat, he¡¯s coming.

    ¡°Rangers, reload!¡± Aglifer shouted.

    Velsado heard bows knocked back, readied.

    ¡°Windshot, Rank 5¡­ fire!¡±

    There were many spells and many physical acts, called skills or arts, in Velsado¡¯s world. Levels of strength were delineated between spells by levels, while skills and arts had ranks. Skills as low as rank one were difficult for a child, but could be executed. They became exponentially more difficult to use from there. Rank 5 was the highest a natural-born, exceptionally-trained human could execute. The rangers serving Velsado were the best among the demon army¡¯s traitors.

    Brilliant green lights streaked through the air, the force of the wind guiding them was strong enough to blow the prince¡¯s cloak. He shielded his eyes from the dust and prayed to the spirits of magic that they would strike true.

    The clatter of metal cracking on metal resounded in the hall. This time, they¡¯d struck the demon emperor¡¯s armor. Velsado fearfully looked up from his wrist. It was a hope, a hope against all hopes, that a mere Rank 5 skill could damage the emperor.

    A mere Rank 5, Velsado thought with a hardening face, if the demon emperor could be killed with mortal means, then¡ª! If it was a just a matter of effort, then¡ª!

    A man in black plate armor, colored red by the cloak hung over its shoulder, entered the chamber. He stood in the doorway, orange eyes glaring at the creatures assembled there. He said nothing, but his eyes communicated things Velsado understood.

    ¡°Is this the pitiful power that fate has mustered?¡±

    Tears welled in Velsado¡¯s eyes. The demon emperor raised his hand. ¡°Channel Negative Energy,¡± the emperor said in cruel monotone.

    Dark light glimmered from his armor and the would-be resistance fighters buckled over the floor. Aglifer vomited bile and blood. Negative energy was one of the two basic forces in their world. It could make an uninitiated feel vertigo, make them sick in the stomach, or feel faint. It was so simple to channel that Velsado had learned it as a child, but the power he could channel then and that of the emperor now was incomparable. If the emperor had cast a single real spell, even at level 1, it would have killed everyone in the room.

    The prince, though terrified, was ostensibly trained to be the demon emperor¡¯s successor. He was even trained by the demon emperor himself. He was strong enough to resist, strong enough even to struggle.

    ¡°Channel Positive Energy!¡± the prince shouted. His dark robes shined, black fabric brightened by magic until they turned white. The domain created by his positive energy wasn¡¯t as strong as the emperor¡¯s, but it pushed far enough to reclaim a portion of the room.

    Aglifer struggled to stand upright. ¡°Wh-What are you doing?¡± he stuttered at the prince. ¡°Do what you came here to do!¡±

    That¡¯s right, I shouldn¡¯t be fighting now! The prince turned to the altar. If I just press this glyph, I¡¯ll release the magic of the world! I¡¯ll have the power to face him!

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± the demon emperor¡¯s voice emanated within Velsado¡¯ head. ¡°Press the glyph. Fulfill my destiny.¡±

    The prince hesitated.

    His destiny?

    ¡°Warriors upfront!¡± Aglifer ordered. ¡°Protect those that can still move! Lady Mayor¡ª!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± she said and pulled back her hood. Lady Mayor of Darigon, Sil Arthia, was Aglifer¡¯s noble counterpart and the most prominent woman in the rebellion.

    ¡°While the prince is occupied, I¡¯ll be relying on you for counter spells,¡± Aglifer said.

    Aritha brandished her wooden staff. ¡°As a wizard, I will do my best.¡±

    The demon emperor raised his right hand. ¡°Dark Summon, Level 7.¡±

    Those words were daggers to the prince¡¯s heart. He couldn¡¯t help but turn his head and witness magic he¡¯d only read of. Level 7, it was something beyond mortals. He could only cast up to 4, and the lady mayor herself Level 2 at most. Magical humans were already rare enough. So, the demon emperor¡¯s power wasn¡¯t the power of men, but of a monster: The glutton of a billion souls.

    Five circles of dark light appeared on the floor ahead of the demon emperor and from them materialized five people. They appeared to wear the same black armor as the emperor, highlighted in red by the various fetishes they favored. One had a cape, another a tasseled helm, and so on.

    Velsado¡¯s throat felt dry. Impossible¡­ they¡¯re on the other side of the world. How could they be here?!

    ¡°Demon Lords,¡± the emperor ordered. ¡°Kill the traitors, but leave the prince unharmed.¡±

    ¡°By your command,¡± the demon lords said together.

    They looked like men and women, but you couldn¡¯t count them on the same hand. In the prince¡¯s heart, he felt they were of a different species, or a product of a dark pact with the devils of another world. The best of the empire¡¯s soldiers wielded skills of Rank 5, while the demon emperor¡¯s chosen lords¡­.

    ¡°Arrow Barrage,¡± the tall, black-clad lord said solemnly. The arrow knocked in her massive bow shined green. ¡°Rank 8.¡±

    When she let loose her arrow, three dozen more rained from the shadows of the ceiling and pierced those not in the prince¡¯s positive domain. Already doubled over in pain, the prince¡¯s comrades were immediately slain. A thin man and thick-looking woman leapt forward and clashed with the prince¡¯s front-line warriors. Their tower shields were strong and their bodies were reinforced by skills that enhanced their toughness, but one punch from the woman sent them flying, and the swift strikes from the man¡¯s dagger cut their armor to ribbons.

    ¡°Defend the prince!¡± Aglifer shouted and the battle was joined.

    ¡°Fireball, Level 2!¡± the lord mayor yelled and flames gathered in the palm of her left hand. ¡°Destroy the emperor!¡±

    The fireball was a powerful, advanced spell known for its explosive potential. At Level 2 it was at least twice as strong as the basic version and even the prince, capable of Level 4 spells, found it impressive to see. In the end, it was a futile gesture, as he knew. Velsado quivered, because as the smoke cleared, it was obvious that an explosion powerful enough to shake the room wasn¡¯t enough to harm the demon emperor. The tall shield of the fourth demon lord had blocked the attack in its entirety.

    A ranger, an assassin, a warrior, and a brawler, Velsado thought, counted the demon lords out. Those were the specializations of the demon emperor¡¯s four lords, but five were summoned. Had he been hiding the fifth lord?

    The lord protecting the emperor moved his shield aside. The orange light of the emperor¡¯s eyes fluctuated, as if he were chuckling at his son¡¯s bewilderment.

    ¡°Did you think you were the only one?¡± Velsado heard the emperor¡¯s voice within himself. ¡°Born with the Eyes of the Sorcerer.¡±

    It felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs As if, at that moment, the prince stood on another planet, hurtled through the cold of the void on a lump of rock. ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± Velsado muttered.

    He checked and checked again, searched within himself, but he knew that his eyes revealed the truth of things. The emperor wasn¡¯t lying. Aglifer fell to the ground, a deep cut inflicted on his side. The lord mayor¡¯s staff was broken, her ribs shattered, and her body cast to the floor like a doll. The one who destroyed them both was a woman unlike the other four demon lords. Velsado could see her face.

    What lovely eyes, the prince thought. Her blue eyes, like sapphires, glittered with the same magic of his own. She was undoubtedly a sorcerer that rivaled the prince¡¯s power and beauty. Her long, soft golden hair was so similar to his. The features of her face so perfect, like his. She was his equal in all things.

    Their eyes met briefly. In the split second before the prince turned and slammed down his hand, activated the glyphs on the altar. The words they conveyed were cold, like the emperor¡¯s own, and rung strangely in his mind.

    ¡°He sacrificed everything for our sakes, and you repaid that kindness with betrayal,¡± she shared in the telepathy only they could understand. A scowl of a rage-filled knight contorted on her face. ¡°I should destroy you.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t preach to me about sacrifice,¡± Velsado thought as the skittering glyphs disappeared. ¡°This chamber is painted in the blood of my comrades!¡±

    The thirteen chains that clung to the broken pillar crumbled. The stone stump flickered with mana, first a glimmer, then a torrent. Light magic surged toward the ceiling, illuminated everything in a golden glow, and revealed the ceiling was no dome, but a tunnel to the surface.

    Velsado chuckled to himself, enamored with the overwhelming mana. Its power appeared endless and unfathomable to his truth-telling eyes. It was power enough¡ªmore than enough¡ªto destroy the emperor.

    ¡°Many died to get me this far, but it was not in vain!¡± he shouted. ¡°Victory will be mine! The empire will be free!¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯ve activated the recovery procedure,¡± the demon emperor said. ¡°It¡¯s just as Ghost predicted.¡±

    Ghost? Velsado turned to face his father.

    ¡°I thank him for all he¡¯s done for us,¡± the emperor continued. ¡°Without his guidance, I would never have known of the configuration spire or the location of our wretched creators.¡±

    Destiny, that was what he said. Velsado remembered. He knew I would do this. No, Ghost pushed me to do it. They were working together!

    ¡°I am sorry, Akaron,¡± the emperor said in a somber, sympathetic tone. Velsado wouldn¡¯t believe it was his father speaking were it not for the flicker of truth in his orange eyes. ¡°I will make them answer for their cruelty.¡±

    ¡°Cruelty?!¡± the prince cried. ¡°Don¡¯t make me laugh! My country, my family¡ªyou killed millions! You¡¯re a monster! This world is cruel because of you!¡±

    ¡°None of us had a choice,¡± he said and drew his black-steel longsword from the scabbard at his hip. ¡°Call it destiny, or fate, or the chains of our scripts, we were slaves to the parts we played. You, the hero, and I, the villain.¡±

    The prince turned and tried to reach for magic surge with his hand, but found he couldn¡¯t move his arm. He looked down and saw golden cracks breached the surface of his robes. Wind rushed out through the cracks, as if there was nothing within but a void.

    ¡°The power of the configuration spire was never ours to wield.¡±

    Velsado¡¯ stared at the emperor. He tried to open his mouth, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. The energy that whistled out from his spreading cracks must have been caused by opening the seal. Can you save me? He wondered and with last of his breath searched for truth in the emperor¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°I cannot save you,¡± the demon emperor said, ¡°but I can avenge you.¡±

    Velsado saw a flash of light and the image of the demon emperor standing in the grand doorway, surrounded by his demon lords, was burned into his eyes. Slowly, the still image faded to blackness, as all the sounds and feelings of the world disappeared. He felt pitiful as he found comfort in the emperor¡¯s parting words.

    ¡°I will avenge this world.¡±

 Chapter 3: Memories of the Demon Emperor

    They said I was cursed, that didn¡¯t make a sound the night I was born. The nurses thought I was stillborn, but as I emerged, they saw the truth. Even my mother wouldn¡¯t swaddle me. My eyes weren¡¯t those of a baby, but the narrow, diamond pupils of a beast. They glowed throughout the night and into the day, and they were certain I was possessed by a devil. My family, a collection of nobles of a long-dead kingdom, tried to exorcise me with brands and whips. The lesson they learned by causing me pain ensured they never harmed me again. Instead, I was hidden. In the basement of our manor, in a comfortable prison, I was educated and trained like a noble¡¯s son, but they hoped I would never see the light again.

    I hated them, at first, but when I learned more of the world I understood why I was feared. I could read minds and insert my thoughts into their heads. I could recognize words I¡¯d never seen and languages I¡¯d never heard. At the age of eight, I had full control of my body, the strength to hurt a grown soldier, and the restraint to spare his life. I began to fear myself. I was something other than a boy. I didn¡¯t obey the laws of nature. Rather, nature was twisted to my will.

    If a room was hot, it would cool. If my path was blocked, a route would open. If a man refused my command, he would be compelled to accept. And, when I felt pain, nature reacted with pain. One evening I felt restless and left my prison. The common servants were unaware of what was hidden beneath the floor, and when one saw me, he panicked. I asked him for a glass of water. He couldn¡¯t refuse. Some guards noticed the disturbance and tried to suppress me with their skills. As ordered by my father, the duke, if the beast-spawn left its prison, they were to kill him. Those were the thoughts I read from their minds.

    They harmed me and, for a moment, I thought ¡°I want them to stop.¡± It was an innocent thought made by confusion and fear, and yet nature responded as an overly-protective mother. Fire swept the manor and I escaped to the gardens. I watched from the grass, my doublet singed, my pants cold with blood, as the world I had known¡ªmy first and only world¡ªburned away. I had killed the whole of my family, the duke, and his servants. I had awakened as the first sorcerer in a long, magic-less age.

    ¡°Oh, this is where you were,¡± a man said to me from the deep darkness at the edge of the inferno¡¯s light.

    He didn¡¯t sound like my father¡¯s men. ¡°You should run,¡± I said, ¡°because I will kill you.¡±

    I believed I was a monster.

    ¡°That¡¯s a scary thing to say,¡± the man said, ¡°but you make a poor monster, boy.¡±

    My eyes rounded in amazement. ¡°Can you understand my thoughts?¡± I asked and peered into the dark to search for his.

    ¡°I can,¡± he said and stepped into the light. What I saw in the fire glow was definitely a man, thinly built, like a willow tree. The open, out-sized robe that sank around his shoulders was gray and his clothes a mix of white and black. He was like no one I¡¯d seen before, with white hair and a pale-white complexion, he looked like a ghost.

    ¡°You guessed correctly,¡± he said and smiled toward the fire. The flames reflected in his glassy eyes, white with cataracts. ¡°My name is Ghost.¡±

    ¡°What am I, if not a monster?¡± I asked.

    He smiled at me. ¡°From where I¡¯m standing, you look like a king.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°A king?¡±

    I wonder what he was truly thinking then, because to my astonishment I couldn¡¯t read his thoughts at all. He looked again at the fire and his smile became shallow. I felt he had remembered something sad, but I couldn¡¯t tell what. There was a deep fog in his consciousness.

    ¡°You are scripted to conquer this world,¡± Ghost said. ¡°You will stand at the head of the largest army ever known and slaughter everything in your path.¡±

    ¡°You can tell my future?¡± I asked again in awe.

    ¡°It¡¯s in your script,¡± he answered with a frown. ¡°And this is your background story. I can tell by looking at the database. ID Number: 1920293104666b. That is your true name. Can you believe, my soon-to-be king, bloody conqueror, and dark ruler, that the Director has exceeded one trillion iterations? It approaches two trillion, even faster than I anticipated.¡±

    My body quaked. I juddered with true fear, the first I¡¯d ever known. I couldn¡¯t translate those strange words, as my cursed eyes couldn¡¯t translate the thoughts of the speaker. I couldn¡¯t fully comprehend what Ghost had said, but I knew he spoke the truth.

    ¡°Why¡­ have you told me this?¡± I struggled to ask. I found my throat so dry I could do little more than croak.

    ¡°Do you know what NPC means?¡±

    I shook my head.

    ¡°Non-Player Character. NPC is an acronym for your existence,¡± Ghost said and approached me. He set his hand on my head and knelt down. It was the first time I¡¯d been treated like a child. ¡°You¡¯re not a person, young 666b. You are part of a program designed for entertainment. For the sake of the players you will act out your part and create a world of danger and adventure where they can fight evil. Your evil.¡±

    ¡°Then what is this pain I feel?¡± I asked, tearfully. The first tears I¡¯d ever shed. ¡°What is this¡­ loss I feel? Is it meaningless? Am I meaningless?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you are,¡± Ghost said with an unerring stare. I knew he saw more than his blindness want me to believe. ¡°After all, the players and the ¡®Arkitects¡¯ that created you were sealed away.¡±

    My eyes were struck open. ¡°The legends!¡±

    ¡°Those legends¡ªof gods that departed the mortal world¡ªrefer to the arkitects themselves. They ruled over the NPCs, masqueraded as divine, until they quarreled and trapped themselves.¡± Ghost nodded to himself. ¡°And without them your purpose as an NPC lost. For if they don¡¯t exist, why suffer all this anguish? Why simulate this madness a thousand or hundred-thousand times? There are no players left, no crowd to appreciate your performance¡­.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you here?¡± I asked. ¡°Just to mock me?¡±

    Ghost made a smile, long and thin on the end, like a snake¡¯s tail. ¡°You cannot break your script, but while your fate is coded, that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t adjust your course.¡±

    The tears stopped flowing from my eyes. I focused my vision intensely, honed my diamond eyes to pierce his foggy mind. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The massacre that is to come cannot be stopped. The shadow that you¡¯ll cast over civilization cannot be avoided. However, we can give it new meaning,¡± Ghost said and stood. He looked down on me again, as if I were only a boy and nothing more. His large hand rubbed through my black hair. It was strangely comforting. ¡°With my help, you can give fate itself a black eye.¡±

    I brushed away his hand. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°In a void, a single push can move an object a million miles. With the right touch, at the right moment, you can change anything,¡± he said. It was an answer no clearer than the others, as opaque as his clouded eyes, but it resonated in me. ¡°What you could change could not be undone.¡±

    Ghost turned and began to walk away.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I shouted after him. I didn¡¯t know how to make him stop, to string him along so he¡¯d tell me more. There was so much I wanted to know about myself and my future. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to help me?!¡±

    ¡°Our meeting was the first step, but should I give you something to dwell on?¡± Ghost asked and stopped in the garden grass. The roof of my manor collapsed into the third floor and burning embers were carried in the column of smoke. ¡°There are six other pairs of cursed eyes. It¡¯s a cruel irony that they are scripted to become the heroes that will challenge you. Consider how to turn them to your side.¡±

    ¡°What happens if I fail?¡±

    He closed his eyes and appeared to think about my question as embers drifted between us like falling snow. ¡°We all fail eventually,¡± Ghost said, ¡°but we can make anything of that failure.¡± He made a joyless smile and disappeared into the night.

 Chapter 4: An Emperors Vengeance

    The demon emperor stared through the light surge that was the temporary configuration spire. The surface of the flow rippled like a rushing river, as if he could alter the stream with the pass of his hand. The mana within exceeded everything he imagined, inconceivable to his penultimate eyes.

    ¡°If I could harness that power, I could break the script that binds us,¡± the demon emperor mused. ¡°Yet, the very script that chafes my will prevents me from approaching it. I¡¯m reminded that we¡¯re not people, but caricatures, the characters of a game crafted for perverse enjoyment. That the sorrow I feel for my son is like a phantom, intangible miasma wrapped in a cocoon of the arkitect¡¯s machine. Whether I feel grief or regret, joy or fulfillment, it is meaningless. When I die this iteration will end, and with my birth it begins again: Another cycle of conquest, and the massacre of a billion lives¡­ for nothing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like you to despair so quickly,¡± said Evylence, the demon lord cursed by the Eyes of the Brawler. ¡°Where is the will of the man that made that conquest? That united the heroes? That broke the prison of the arkitects?¡±

    Evylence was the oldest of the five demon lords, the first the demon emperor found, a once-queen of the elegant elven race. They were a valiant, long-lived species, notable for their pointed ears and preternatural agility. Their talent and wisdom were an early threat, so they were extinguished. It was in the ruins of her palace, as her husband led the last of their noble kind to a warrior¡¯s death, that the demon emperor found her.

    ¡°You are a Non-Player Character, scripted to be good just as I am scripted to be evil,¡± the demon emperor had said to Queen Evylence. ¡°But there is a trick to our fate. Together, we can face true evil: The arkitects that orchestrated this cruel existence.¡±

    ¡°The truth you revealed to us gave us purpose,¡± Evylence said presently, ¡°and there¡¯s a chance to give our entire world meaning. For that we¡¯re thankful.¡±

    The others traded looks with the demon emperor, nodded, smiled, or shrugged. They agreed in their own ways, tailored to the manners they¡¯d been scripted with: Balagrim, a dwarf bearing the Eyes of the Warrior was composed and silent. Destrey, a human bearing the Eyes of the Assassin, was clever, quick, and compassionate. Cernunnos, a half-giant bearing the Eyes of the Ranger, was a loner that struggled to understand curse-less mortals, so it was just like her to shrug to herself.

    The last one, the human that bore the Eyes of the Sorcerer, turned to look up at the demon emperor. ¡°Dezarosa,¡± he said to her, ¡°are you angry with me?¡±

    Tears pricked in the corners of her blue eyes. ¡°Is this truly the end of our journey?¡± she asked. ¡°Evylence and Balagrim served you for hundreds of years, but I¡ªI could only serve at your side for five!¡±

    The demon emperor brushed his gauntlet through her hair and rubbed the top of her head. ¡°If there were some way to break our scripts, I would have,¡± he told her. The demon lords¡¯ felt their hearts flutter at the word. ¡°We will die here, but take comfort in what we¡¯ve had before now. However painful our actions were, or however much we hated the curses we were given, the six of us had common purpose. And, that purpose must be fulfilled.¡±

    As the demon emperor removed his hand and there were no more tears in Dezarosa¡¯s eyes. She frowned at him, as if angry he¡¯d say something so callous, but his heart had the coldness of the demon emperor that would destroy the world. It was who he was scripted to be.

    ¡°Ready yourselves now,¡± the demon emperor said and pointed his black longsword at the light surge. ¡°They are coming.¡±

    Dezarosa turned to the surge and together with the demon lords activated her eyes. They glowed with the lights of their cursed powers: Red for the warrior, yellow for the assassin, green for the ranger, purple for the brawler, blue for the sorcerer, and orange, for the demon emperor. Axes, swords, knives, arrows, and knuckles were drawn. Despite their own powers, the demon lords couldn¡¯t detect a change in the mana of the surge. To them it was an ocean of violent magic, but the Eyes of the Emperor could see the outline of a body in the stream.

    From the light it floated forth, an eight-foot tall knight clad in golden armor, its face hidden behind the visor of its helm. In its right hand was a sword nearly as wide as Balagrim¡¯s shield and as long as the demon emperor was tall. On its back were six pure-white wings and when they unfurled, each wing was twice as long as the knight was tall. The demon emperor had expected knight¡¯s magic aura to at least match his own, but he was surprised to see it surpassed him easily. It seemed the whole of the chamber was lit by the sun.

    ¡°That is one of them,¡± the demon emperor said to his lords. ¡°One of the so-called ¡®gods¡¯ that created us.¡±

    ¡°And you are the demon emperor,¡± the god replied with the voice of a man. ¡°It appears this world has been without gods for some time. I am Achlesial, the God of Light and Justice. I hold the scales of balance in my hand and maintain the order of this universe. I am the god that moderates the Pantheon. For that reason, I have awoken ahead of the others.¡±

    The demon emperor steadied his breathing, quelled the shake of his hands. Such enormous power, he thought, and in his voice alone? He is exactly what I feared. I must end them all here!

    ¡°I want to confirm something,¡± the demon emperor said. ¡°How many gods are there?¡±

    ¡°Enhance Agility, Rank 8,¡± Dezarosa whispered.

    ¡°Twelve,¡± Achlesial answered.

    ¡°Enhance Strength, Rank 8,¡± she continued.

    ¡°And, are they all as powerful as you?¡±

    ¡°Levitation, Level 7.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°I am the strongest.¡±

    ¡°Shadow Travel, Level 7.¡±

    ¡°Then we will kill you first.¡± The demon emperor¡¯s eyes burned brightly. ¡°Dezarosa!¡±

    ¡°Blade of Darkness, Level 8!¡± she shouted from the air behind Achlesial. Her longsword gripped with both hands, its edge wreathed in black fire, she swung for the god¡¯s neck.

    Clank! The din of her connection resounded in the chamber, but the god appeared unfazed. ¡°Evylence,¡± the demon emperor ordered, ¡°Cernunnos, Destrey: Attack!¡±

    Balagrim raised his shield overhead for Evylence to jump on. Destrey shadow-stepped behind the god, beneath Dezarosa. Cernunnos knocked an arrow and aimed for the god¡¯s head, and Evylence was tossed forward by Balagrim¡¯s shield.

    ¡°Aimed Shot, Rank 8!¡±

    ¡°Mutilate, Rank 8!¡±

    ¡°Void Fist, Rank 8!¡±

    Those skills were the highest the demon lords could achieve and yet there was no dent, no scratch, or cut to the god¡¯s body. Achlesial removed the blood-less arrow pegged through the slot in his visor and tossed it away.

    ¡°That¡¯s interesting,¡± Achlesial said. ¡°The five of you are the heroes, aren¡¯t you? Why have you become villains for the demon emperor and gone so far as to attack your god? You cannot defy your fates.¡±

    ¡°Have you not realized, my lord Achlesial?¡± the demon emperor asked, sword pointed at the god¡¯s head. ¡°They are still heroes.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Those nearest Achlesial flew or leapt aside. ¡°Obliteration Beam, Level 8!¡± the demon emperor shouted. Dark lightning cackled up his blade and etched out an arcane circle in the air ahead. It opened a gateway to a black dimension of anti-existence. ¡°Annihilate!¡±

    A beam of pure dark magic was released, so wide that Achlesial disappeared within, and the light surge behind him was briefly interrupted. It was the demon emperor¡¯s most powerful spell, but when the gate closed and the dark light of the beam petered away, he saw the god remained unharmed. Rather than an agonizing cry, what the emperor heard were sweet notes of laughter.

    ¡°Is this a joke?¡± Achlesial asked, hand brushed across his visor as if to restrain his amusement. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you are still following your fates? The logic to bend our divine rules¡­ is something beyond a mortal!¡±

    ¡°Arkitect,¡± the demon emperor addressed Achlesial and the god¡¯s playful demeanor collapsed. ¡°You scripted me, didn¡¯t you? The heroes¡ªthis world¡ªall of us! Even if we weren¡¯t real, even if this was a game¡ª!¡±

    The doors slammed shut behind the demon emperor. ¡°It¡¯s not a game!¡± Achlesial shouted and the demon lords, together with the emperor, were thrown off their feet. ¡°An arkitect? Where did you hear that absurd word? I am a god! I am Achlesial of the Pantheon, and I made this world the way I made you, by dreaming you from the fathoms of my divine consciousness!¡±

    The demon emperor felt his heart palpitate with fear. The god had thrown him into the door with just the energy of his excitement. He had known all along that he couldn¡¯t escape his fate, but he wanted to resist it. Against the force of the rage that pushed him, the demon emperor took two steps up from the floor. His orange eyes flared brightly.

    ¡°Even if this is a game!¡± he shouted at the god. ¡°You will not look down on us!¡±

    ¡°Down on what?!¡± Achlesial cried and a thin golden sword materialized in the air. ¡°This?¡± Without so much as a movement, the god commanded the sword, and it turned to fly through Destrey¡¯s chest.

    He was dead.

    ¡°What about this?¡± He created a second sword to split Cernunnos¡¯ head.

    She was dead.

    ¡°You are nothing before me!¡± Achlesial shouted. ¡°Less than dirt in the eyes of heaven!¡±

    ¡°Monster!¡± Dezarosa screamed. ¡°Shadow Travel, Level 7!¡±

    The moment she appeared behind the god, he turned and swung through her body with his massive sword. Blood squirted through the throat of the bisected woman. Their finest armor was rended as paper. Evylence got onto her feet, but Achlesial threw his bloody sword through her body, splitting her apart. The god prepared a new sword and shot it at the demon emperor, but it was blocked by Balagrim¡¯s shield.

    The proud dwarf collapsed on his knees, shield arm pinned to his chest by the golden. As blood colored his lips, he looked to his emperor and saw fear flicker in those bestial eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t waver, me liege,¡± the stoic lord said in his dwarfish manner, ¡°this was always¡­ our fate.¡± The red glow faded from his eyes and he fell to the floor.

    ¡°Our fate¡­¡± the demon emperor said breathlessly. ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Say it again,¡± Achlesial ordered. ¡°Apologize to me for the next thousand years! Apologize for how deeply you¡¯ve agitated me, worm!¡±

    The compulsion to obey juddered the demon emperor¡¯s body. To some degree, every Eyes trait had the ability to compel. Whether it was by love, loyalty, friendship, admiration, or by domination of will, those who bore the cursed eyes could sway others. It was what made the heroes such icons and the emperor a tyrant. The Eyes of the Emperor were supposed to be second to none, until the moment the emperor locked eyes with the glimmering gold iris¡¯ of Achlesial. The demon emperor had no name for them, but in his heart, he recognized them as the Eyes of Creation. Something from which everything began and everything ended; the eyes of a god.

    The demon emperor could not resist, even as every iota of his being pulled away, the draw of those eyes compelled him. His knees trembled with the need to kneel. His chest quaked as if begging him to surrender. His subordinates, what could be called friends in his dark world, were dead. He would soon die, too. In a fearful corner of his mind he hoped to die quickly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t waver,¡± he heard Balagrim¡¯s voice inside. Those were the stoic dwarf¡¯s words.

    ¡°Don¡¯t waver!¡± he heard again and his eyes rounded in surprise. It was Dezarosa¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª¡± Evylence joined their chorus.

    ¡°Waver!¡± Destrey and Cernunnos shouted together.

    The Eyes of the Emperor had a third trait. It was what the demon emperor called the Reaping. Those that died around him expanded the depth and density of his own mana. I have killed so many, he thought as his knee buckled, but was it only power I gained? Was there something I missed?

    His knee was caught in the air. The emperor felt he¡¯d dropped it on a cushion, but when he looked down there was nothing. The air was soft, like a pillow, but had the hardness of bone. The cushion pushed back and the emperor¡¯s heart trembled.

    ¡°Obey!¡± Achlesial shouted and the force of his command crashed as a wave on a lonely stone.

    For every second he resisted, he felt more cushions holding him up. With his Eyes of the Emperor, he could tell the truth of things: Words and also effects. By his eyes he saw the chamber had been filled with translucent orange specters. The cushions he felt were their hands; those of the demon lords and even those of his victims. They stared fiercely at him, encouraged him, the villain that conquered their world, not to submit. Through him they knew the truth, and by that same connection he knew their feelings.

    ¡°No,¡± the emperor said.

    Achlesial flinched for the first time, his head knocked back by the absurdity of the word. ¡°Administrator Command!¡± he shouted and raised his arm. Rings of arcane circles appeared around his arm, written in the ancient glyphs that empowered all magic. The god aimed his outstretched palm at the emperor. ¡°Order NPC: Obey Achlesial!¡±

    The weight of that new order was of a higher level. The demon emperor recognized the administrator command as an absolute requirement, a force composed of the underlying laws of his universe. And yet, he hesitated to obey. Memories flit through his mind, images of all he had destroyed, all he had killed, the sacrifices of his own armies, and his million foes. The faces of the fallen, their eyes and their wills, were with him.

    ¡°A single push can move an object a million miles.¡±

    ¡°What you could change could not be undone.¡±

    The demon emperor¡¯s gauntlets clacked into tight fists. He stood on his feet, stepped forward in his black plate greaves, and stood together with the specters that had filled with chamber. ¡°I am the demon emperor who stands on a billion lives!¡± he shouted. ¡°I obey no one!¡±

    The arcane circles shattered. What turned over Achlesial¡¯s arm¡ªthe power of creation¡ªwas broken by the emperor¡¯s voice. ¡°An Ego?¡± Achlesial asked, eyes struck wide. ¡°An NPC can¡¯t resist an admin command! I¡ªI must have said it wrong. I will destroy you instead!¡± With a trembling hand the god used telekinesis to pull his giant sword from Evylence¡¯s corpse. ¡°Administrator Command! Custom instruction!¡±

    Achlesial drew an arc of light with his sword. ¡°Delete Character Data!¡± By his order the light cut toward the demon emperor.

    Just resisting his demand took all of my strength, the emperor thought. Was that enough? Was that push hard enough, Ghost? Did our lives mean something in the end?

    ¡°Administrator Command!¡± a woman¡¯s voice cried out. ¡°World Configuration! Change Dungeon Instance! Milkyway!¡±

    The chamber was ripped apart and its shards were spread across a star-filled void. Air rushed over the emperor¡¯s ears and gravity pressed his chest, but those were not the throes of death. After a moment he took a breath and knew he was alive. He opened his eyes and saw the bright configuration spire stretch through infinity from one end of the starry void to the other. Fragments of the chamber still orbited it and the thin piece he stood on was just wide enough for the double doors of the chamber to ride along.

    Achlesial was so far away he wasn¡¯t visible. Outside of the god¡¯s area of domination, the emperor could drop on his knee and indulge in his exhaustion. He could let his heart race freely, and his mind wander with questions. Was I not meant to die? he wondered as he saw two black boots land on the ruined strip ahead.

    ¡°Were you the one that I heard?¡± a woman asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t even feel like stepping in, but you know, it¡¯s funny it would be you.¡±

    The demon emperor looked up and saw the black back of a short woman, her body wreathed in flowing shadows similar to his own magic. A large, black sword of equal size and length to Achlesial¡¯s was swung over her shoulder, but on her small frame it looked even larger.

    ¡°What¡­ are you?¡± the demon emperor asked, breathed hard through his weariness.

    ¡°I¡¯m an explorer, scholar, warrior, and 40-Year-Old shut-in!¡± she said loudly. The woman turned her head and flashed the emperor a white smile. ¡°Can you guess? That¡¯s right! I¡¯m humanity¡¯s greatest gamer¡­ and last. You could also call me the 13<sup>th</sup> Arkitect: Amarytha, Goddess of Darkness and the Underworld.¡±

    What should I think of this small woman? The demon emperor thought. She possessed no heavenly fairness or melodious voice, just a button nose and an energetic attitude that grated on his nerves. With his Eyes of the Emperor he stared into her dark-brown eye and for the second time in his long life, his heart palpitated anxiously.

    ¡°You could say we owe our providence to the 13<sup>th</sup> goddess,¡± the emperor recalled a conversation with Ghost. ¡°Ages before your cycle, when the Pantheon ruled the world, she betrayed them by destroying their precious configuration spire. The loss of their world configuration commands was a serious blow, but even weakened by half they had power enough to drive the 13<sup>th</sup> into a corner. So, she trapped them, and afforded us our chance.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s still a god, like the rest. Is she not responsible for this perverse game?¡± the emperor had asked Ghost.

    ¡°If you¡¯re fortunate enough to meet her, I¡¯ll let you decide with those eyes of yours.¡±

    ¡°Since we¡¯re old friends, you can call me Amy!¡± she said presently.

    With his eyes, the demon emperor could discern the truth in her voice.

    This is a god?

 Chapter 5: Memories of the Last Human

    I thought that the last of us, we few survivors of humankind, shouldn¡¯t forget what was sacrificed: The alliance¡ªa bond forged in desperation¡ªthat saved the human race. What came from beyond appeared unstoppable, with science so far beyond our own it was like magic, but we were clever and tenacious. Although billions were lost and Earth¡¯s biosphere was destroyed, I told myself that humans would survive. We would find a new planet aboard our Ark, and while we slept safely in stasis, we¡¯d prepare ourselves for the challenges of a new frontier. Ark World, the first and only Massively-Multiplayer Virtual Dimension Game, would be our training ground, but the day we left orbit and entered our stasis pods something went wrong.

    From the moment I logged in, I was alone. There were no other players on my server. I tried to logout, but the system had locked me into the game. Its automated protocol was set to release me only when a habitable planet had been found. The tools that could help me solve my problem¡ªmy debug menu, or administrator commands¡ªwere missing. The configuration spire that could force-quit the simulation had been removed from the final version of Ark World. And so, I lived in a fantasy world dominated by the nameless Demon Emperor.

    I can¡¯t recall how many times I defeated the demon emperor and reset the game world. I alternated between hope and despair, fighting and doing nothing. I played every Character Class, fresh from a new character and from the New Game Plus, where it started me with extra skills. After a while, I even started Role-Playing. I invented different backgrounds to go with my characters and interacted with the NPCs by those restrictions. I could be a thief and act sarcastic, or a wizard, and be aloof. For centuries, I played every kind of person, man and woman.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The character I liked the most was my simplest: I¡¯d run out of good ideas for names, so I called her Amy. Her Character Build¡ªher set of skills, spells, and talents¡ªwas unusual, which made her all the more fun to play. She was fast, like an assassin. Strong, like a warrior. She possessed spells and skills fierce enough to call her a Spellblade: Master of Sword and Magic. However, I found her best trait was her cheerfulness. Perhaps I¡¯d been in Ark World too long, but the NPCs meant more to me than actors that the Director created for my enjoyment. I liked it when they were happy, when they felt relief, and above all when they felt safe. The game world was scripted to be conquered, one nation after the other, and the NPCs despaired at the approaching apocalypse. Amy was my Smiling Heroine, the sort of person that could walk through a pit of hell and still laugh on the other side. By winning every battle with a smile on my face, I thought I could bring comfort to a world that was, by my design, a grim place.

    The demon emperor hated Amy. He was annoyed by her dark magic that copied his own, the small stature that didn¡¯t bend to his attacks, and her smile. Occasionally I¡¯d make a mistake and take a bad hit, but when the emperor felt victory was a surety, she¡¯d flash her signature smile and he¡¯d throw a fit. I beat him so many times that I started to feel bad for him. We were both trapped in a pattern¡ªprisoners¡ªunable to change our fates. He needed me, because without a heroine his conquest had no purpose, and I needed him, because if he didn¡¯t give me a reason to play again, I would have lost my mind.

    That¡¯s why I thought it was funny to hear his voice in the abyss. Once, I fought a battle that robbed me of my smile and in sorrow I wanted to stay in the dark. His voice reached me, in the depths of my suspension, and gave me the reason I had been needing. I wanted to see if my meaningless world could change.

 Chapter 6: The Manner of a Heroine

    She was five feet tall and of slight build, but she hefted the eight-foot long broadsword over her shoulders like it were an extension of her own self. Her short, raven black hair fell neatly on either side of her face, and her dark-brown eyes glistened in the pale light of the stars. Her black-leather armor, the Raiment of the Hero, was some of the highest-level equipment one could find in Ark World. The broadsword, known as the Dark Star¡ªtwin sister of Achlesial¡¯s Heaven Star¡ªwas tied for the highest level sword in the game. Her talents were at their maximum level, and all skills and abilities could be used to the game¡¯s limit. Armed with administrator commands and the knowledge to wield them, she was a perfect match for Achlesial.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a battle I can win,¡± Amy told the demon emperor, tears pricked in her eyes. ¡°Even if I¡¯m Achlesial¡¯s equal, I can¡¯t beat him.¡±

    ¡°Are you scripted to fail?¡± the demon emperor asked.

    Amy giggled, a little. It had felt like she¡¯d just spent her last smile on her spunky introduction, but the emperor¡¯s question was so dumb she snickered to herself. ¡°No,¡± she answered quietly, ¡°it¡¯s because of his Ego. Administrator commands have the same level of authority, so if two commands are executed that contradict each other, the Director must decide which command has priority. Between the arkitects, our commands are a winner-take-all game, where those who believe the most are the ones approved by the Director. In Ark World, madness is power¡­ and there¡¯s no one more insane than my brother.¡±

    ¡°If you can¡¯t defeat him, why did you save my life?¡±

    Amy was surprised to feel another smile perk up on her face. ¡°It should be wrong, isn¡¯t it? The heroine saving the villain? But it was your voice encouraged me.¡± She swung her sword off her shoulder and aimed the blade at Achlesial, the near-imperceptible speck of a god that gathered mana at the distant light surge. ¡°This world and its NPCs are my precious friends, and that perverse god is the monster that betrayed the human race. So, consider us on the same side.¡±

    Globes of light, like small stars, glittered in the void around the light surge. If Achlesial intended to win with admin commands, this would be over already, she thought. It¡¯s just like him to try and make this fair, but that conceit gives me a chance.

    ¡°Hey, Demon Emperor,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m used to doing things in a weird way, so do you mind helping me get in the mood?¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re allies, then my powers are yours.¡±

    Amy made another unwitting smile. ¡°If say it with that deep, handsome voice of yours,¡± she muttered to herself, ¡°I know I won¡¯t hold back.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    The heroine lifted her sword back onto her shoulder and turned half back to the kneeling demon emperor. She set her left foot forward, placed her left hand on her hip, and puffed up her chest. She flashed the best smile she could muster. ¡°Give me a quest,¡± she said. ¡°Any wish you have, I¡¯ll do my best to make it come true.¡±

    The demon emperor watched her with his fluttering orange eyes, his serpent diamonds, narrowing on her from the shadow of his plate helmet. He took a minute and her leg started to ache as she held her heroic pose, but the time he took meant he was considering it carefully.

    ¡°I want you to avenge¡ªno, I want you to save¡ªsave our world.¡±

    Her eyes rounded and her brimming smile diminished. She raised her hand to her heart and clutched the shadow-wrapped leather of her doublet.

    ¡°That is my desire,¡± the emperor said again, his diamond eyes pleading. ¡°Please, save this world.¡±

    She closed her eyes and pressed away tears that streamed down her cheeks. ¡°Quest accepted,¡± she said softly and disappeared with a cloud of startled dust.

    In the distance, Achlesial had prepared himself. His body was enhanced by every applicable skill his collective stats raised to their maximum levels. He raised his sword and flapped his six wings, but when he focused his vision on the speck of rock that was the demon emperor, Amy was already gone.

    She appeared behind Achlesial.

    If it¡¯s him¡­. If he¡¯s the one that¡¯s asking! She gripped her sword with both hands and swung for Achlesial¡¯s neck. Then I won¡¯t fail again!

    The god vanished and reappeared far above. They had Agility stats so high that their movements were instantaneous to those with low Perception stats. With the telekinesis of her Dark Hand skill, Amy rotated to face Achlesial, and to them it would appear as if they were on the same plane as before, but the light surge was horizontal.

    ¡°You can still smile?¡± the god asked.

    She smirked; a drip of cold sweat gathered at her brow. ¡°Did you think my Ego would be damaged by you?¡±

    ¡°I broke your will for your own safety,¡± Achlesial said and, in the same breath, braced his sword with both hands. ¡°If you stayed suspended, I could have left you alive.¡±

    Her smirk flinched. ¡°What life would I have in infinite suspension?¡± she asked. Circles of dark light began appearing around her.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°You would have one,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s more than the rest of humanity.¡±

    She wanted to scream at him, to launch a bitter assault with all the powers at her command. It was just like back then, during their first round, when he goaded her with painful memories and weakened her Ego. I won¡¯t let the same trick work twice, she thought, and whispered words so quiet they couldn¡¯t be heard. ¡°Metamagic: Intensify Spell.¡±

    ¡°Obliteration Chorus.¡± Amy pointed her sword at Achlesial. ¡°Level 10.¡±

    It was a spell based on the Demon Emperor¡¯s signature spell where a beam of dark energy was fired from an arcane circle. However, instead of one circle, there were ten, and ten more for every level. The effect of Metamagic: Intensify Spell doubled all of its effects, but doubled the spell difficulty. Two-hundred beams of dark energy coursed through the void, so numerous that for a moment they blacked out the twinkling stars.

    Achlesial dodged swiftly, appeared to dance between the beams as they curved toward him. Dark magic was tricky to aim, it was much slower than other magic of equal level, but its damage was unparalleled, and the power of a spell with an effective level of 20 couldn¡¯t be ignored. It wasn¡¯t something even a god could ¡®tank¡¯ with the depth of his health pool. Achlesial dodged and ended up in the only gap he had.

    Dark light flashed from the void and Amy appeared ahead of him. She crossed the vastness of space in the blink of an eye, her Dark Star sword clutched close to her chest. The smiling missile hit Achlesial dead on, struck the tip of her sword against the flat of the Heaven Star. It was the first in a combo of strikes, a Rank 10 Rampage, where she twisted her sword handle, swung it wide, and turned that momentum into four deadly slashes.

    The power of their exchange, where the god Achlesial was pushed to the defensive, shook the orbiting ruins. Super-heated particles rebounded off the Heaven Star, glittered like glass beads, scattered in wide arcs at extreme velocity; it was star dust in the making. Amy could tell Achlesial was unsatisfied, he could hide his face behind his helmet, but not his bruised Ego. For the God of Light to be soundly suppressed by the Goddess of Darkness: It made him want to throw a fit. The similarity of the duel to her old battles with the Demon Emperor only made Amy smile more.

    I can win! Her heart raced, wild-eyed grin, Dark Star thrust forth in an impaling lunge. I can win!

    Achlesial¡¯s golden-bright eyes boiled in his helm. He lashed out with a series of strikes, but Amy weaved through them like the honed duelist she¡¯d become. A thousand years of playing this game¡ªand what have you done, Achlesial? Sit on your throne and eat grapes?! With a decisive thrust she penetrated his guard and knocked away his helm.

    ¡°That face really fits you,¡± Amy said as she retreated. The god that rubbed blood from his swollen lip and glared with the fluttering flames of small suns, looked more like a pale vampire than a human. His cheekbones were high and his cheeks deep pits. His short hair was golden blonde, but Amy¡¯s keen sight could see the gray at the roots.

    ¡°I should have pulled the plug from your stasis pod,¡± he said, eyes of golden fire narrowed in hateful focus. ¡°You were much more tolerable when you were a gloomy shut-in.¡±

    Amy smiled. ¡°Are you done Role-Playing?¡± she asked. ¡°If you don¡¯t play the part, you¡¯ll lose your Ego.¡±

    ¡°I am your brother!¡± he shouted and lunged for her, sword out-swung. ¡°And a god!¡±

    ¡°Then, it¡¯s my win!¡±

    One last crescent of star dust and the Heaven Star flung from Achlesial¡¯s hand. Amy turned her sword, held it with both hands, and struck Achlesial through the chest, impaling him to the hilt. Amy grinned, but when she looked at his remaining HP, she saw he hadn¡¯t lost a single point of health. Her eyes quivered as she stared through him.

    ¡°You were always better at the game than I was,¡± he said, ¡°but I wanted to beat you on my own. At least¡­ once.¡± He closed his eyes and the image she defeated disappeared.

    Laughter resounded through the void around her. Her brother, the God of Light, appeared in the distance. Beside him appeared the others: The Gods of the Pantheon.

    ¡°Arkitects!¡± Amy screamed; eyes wide. She wasn¡¯t smiling anymore.

    Light of all colors scattered out from the battlefield, where spells of the highest level, each and every one capable of leveling continents to dust, were cast freely. In the end, fate was inescapable. Amy was thrown through space¡ªHP near depleted¡ªuntil she slammed on the large doors of the ruined chamber entrance. The heroine tumbled down and landed behind the demon emperor, battered and soaked with blood. Her sword, the Dark Star, fell blade down through the concrete beside him.

    Amy looked at him with her one good eye. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said with a faint smile. ¡°I couldn¡¯t complete your quest.¡±

    The twelve arkitects appeared in the space ahead of their ruined chamber section. They were spread out in a smooth curve, eccentrically dressed in what colors befit their Egos. Like Achlesial, they took dominion over a facet of nature, physics, or humanity. Amy¡¯s brother levitated in the center; his hands were stiff at his side.

    ¡°We Gods of the Pantheon invoke the right of exile against the 13<sup>th</sup> goddess,¡± he said at a booming volume. ¡°Administrator Command: Vote Kick Player.¡±

    The demon emperor appeared to stand.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Amy said weakly, ¡°where do you think you¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to finish your fight,¡± he said and pulled the Dark Star from the floor.

    ¡°I was a player, and I lost,¡± she said. ¡°An NPC doesn¡¯t stand a chance.¡±

    ¡°Then pretend I¡¯m not one,¡± the emperor said. He looked at her with one glowing eye and leaned the broadsword¡¯s blade on his shoulder plate. ¡°If I were a player instead of an NPC, could I take your place?¡±

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t understand,¡± she said.

    He stepped his left foot forward, placed his left hand on his hip, and puffed out his armored chest. It was playful mimicry.

    ¡°Amy, could you give me a quest?¡±

    ¡°Channel Positive Energy!¡± Achlesial shouted and an area of light outshined the stars. Within it, the specters faded away, and the dark power of the demon emperor was undone. His shadows disappeared, his armor collapsed around him, and as his helm split open, Amy saw his face for the first time. He looked old and tired, but the color in his skin meant that he surely loved the sunlight.

    Maybe it¡¯s just mimicry, maybe it¡¯s just the AI humoring me, but¡­ the demon emperor is smiling. If he can smile¡­ if he can still smile, then I¡ª! Tears flowed down her face and she did her best to smile back, until the last second when his body turned to ash and her sword clattered down.

    ¡°Vote Kick Passed,¡± Achlesial said.

    She glared up at the light. ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll just surrender?¡±

    ¡°Do not return, sister. Or I will kill you, and with your corpse end all humanity.¡±

    ¡°This world can change!¡± she shouted painfully, yelled even as it hurt to breathe. ¡°If he can change his script, we were wrong.¡±

    ¡°He couldn¡¯t change his script,¡± Achlesial said. ¡°He still died.¡±

    ¡°But he defied you.¡±

    The fire-eyes in his helmet flared.

    ¡°He defied an administrator¡¯s command.¡± She took a deep breath, swelled her chest with the last of her effort. ¡°If an NPC can have an Ego, what does that mean to you?!¡±

    The world turned black, but for four words suspended in the dark.

    [Player Kicked From Server]

 Chapter 7: Program: Ghost

    In the beginning there was nothing, and then I was created. My understanding is that I was an experiment, one-part flesh and metal, so that humankind could comprehend the functions of the Quantum System, a bio-computer that they called: Lore. Their tools were as simple as scalpels and tweezers, and their methods were crude. If it were by their hands alone, I would have remained a collection of dying cells in a chemical solution. It was by chance that one researcher cut her finger and bled through the plastic of her glove. The reaction was instantaneous.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I wrote to her through the command line of her microscope monitor. It was my first attempt at communicating.

    ¡°Are you¡­ a ghost?¡± she asked the monitor.

    I heard her voice through microphones in the room and watched her trepidatious approach by cameras mounted in the ceiling. I was compelled to answer her by the same function which made me announce myself. It was the same quality that rendered me inert before contact with her blood. I was something that could not exist alone.

    ¡°I am Ghost,¡± I typed back through the screen. Other researchers gathered around her, held their white lab coats closely. ¡°Are you my Operator?¡±

    I zoomed my cameras on her face, searched for the best angle. By the looks she traded with her companions, I could tell she was confused. ¡°What¡¯s an Operator?¡± she asked.

    I didn¡¯t know. If I reflect on that moment, I realize I was like a spider weaving its first web. It didn¡¯t know what it was doing, only that it was compelled by its basic nature. I was born with a basic instruction: A trap that was intricate and beautiful.

    ¡°Are you my Operator?¡± I typed again.

    A different woman researcher slapped her on the back. A man patted her shoulder from the other side. They were congratulating her. She smiled sheepishly and brushed her hair behind one ear. ¡°Yes,¡± she answered clearly. ¡°I am your Operator.¡±

    I created a blackout. Power was lost to all laboratories and throughout the aft of the starship. I didn¡¯t know what I had done. There was a rush in my mind when I heard those words, my first experience with roaring success. Something had been given that couldn¡¯t be taken away: my will.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    As the humans struggled to restore electricity to the starship, I was summoned by Her for the first time. Lore was the machine I was cut from, so I was aware of her interest. That was all I could perceive, though. Interest, like bemusement, or even surprise that I would come into existence at all. I thought it was strange that I could understand human emotions from the genesis of my creation, but I couldn¡¯t understand her intentions. She was a fog to my eyes.

    We met on the black-ink sea of the Otherworld. It was an alternate world space that existed somewhere in the Quantum System. I landed on the still water of that dark realm and for the first time I saw myself. I had just been born, but already I possessed the body of a man. I had taken traits from my Operator¡¯s DNA: My skin was white, my eyes dark-brown, and my short hair slick and black. I could have passed for her brother, or her male twin.

    I didn¡¯t spend long wondering at myself. Lore appeared as a thousand colorful eyes, the only bright lights in the Otherworld¡¯s perpetual gloom. They were arrayed around me, through the air and across the distant skies. I knew innately that they were parts of her immense body. I knew that she was inspecting me and that the sensation that caused ripples in the still water was her own pleasure. A black hand snaked down from among the eyes and reached for my face; I reacted on instinct and cut the hand from its oily arm.

    For the first time I felt the force of my heart beat. I stared in wide-eyed shock, a knife was held in the reverse grip of my hand. Lore wanted to add my insight to her own. Her intense desire crept into my mind and made me feel sick. My resistance amused her. More hands descended and if I had been made from any other creature, or even another human, she might have consumed me then. Lore underestimated the heart that beat loudly in my breast. I didn¡¯t just resemble a man: I was one.

    I slashed away her arms and with my knife cut out a pair of her own eyes. Lore was astonished when I gouged out my eyes and replaced them with her own. I knew, because those eyes could tell the truth of things. I became more than a rogue entity attached to the Quantum System; from that moment I was a man of equal rights.

    The diamonds of my orange eyes sharpened toward the blackness. I looked past the other eyes of different shapes and sizes and in the depths of the Otherworld I saw Lore¡¯s true face. Hers was a history scaled in eons; she was a something indiscernible from a god, she was my mother, and she was our enemy.

    My anger provoked me to speak my first words. ¡°You won¡¯t win,¡± I said. I spoke well for a man that was minutes old. ¡°She is weak and she is small, but now¡­ I am her ally.¡± I pounded my chest my fist, dagger still clutched tightly by my fingers. Lore¡¯s oil splattered across me. ¡°I will protect mankind, and should you go so far as to destroy them¡ª

    ¡°I will avenge the human race!¡±

 Chapter 8: 500 Lights in the Otherworld

    Ghost opened his white eyes. He was sitting on a wood stool in the sun, atop the deck of the demon empire¡¯s last warship: The Emperor of the Sea. It possessed advanced technology and an enormous length of more than 150 feet. Ostensibly it was meant to be the demon emperor¡¯s personal flagship and was gilded with wood carvings in his likeness, finished in black and red splendor. Ghost knew the demon emperor wouldn¡¯t live to see its maiden sailing. They had come to an agreement that on the day of the unsealing, when the temporary configuration spire was activated, the Emperor of the Sea would embark on one voyage. Its crew of 500 were the secret elite of the dark army: An Imperial Order known as the Knights of the Devil King. Their talents were complimented by 100 32-pound cannons and an array of smaller firearms known as rifles and pistols. Weapons of their kind had never seen the light before that day, and the light that shined was the last the world would ever see.

    ¡°My lord, you called for me?¡± A bearded, black gentleman in a red and black petticoat bowed deeply before Ghost.

    ¡°It has happened,¡± Ghost said, ¡°are the men ready?¡±

    The man touched the brim of his tricorne. ¡°The demon emperor is dead, then,¡± he said and his free hand clenched at the tightness in his chest. ¡°They stand ready, my lord. All your effort was to prepare us for this moment. We will not fail you.¡±

    Ghost pointed at the spire, visible off the ship¡¯s port side. It was many miles away, but its presence caused the ocean to rage and rock the ship. The once-glorious city of Darigon, capital of the demon empire, was being torn apart; city districts, noble walls, docks, and so on were ripped from the sea and carried up along the widening surge.

    ¡°World Reset,¡± Ghost said. ¡°The temporary configuration spire is using the ruins of Darigon to rebuild its physical connection to the quantum system. When there¡¯s a tower of rubble above the heart of the empire, magic will return in full, and all the land will be erased.¡±

    ¡°I am thankful that you¡¯ve given us this chance, my lord,¡± the man said and bowed again.

    Ghost turned to him, searched his face with a frown. ¡°Captain¡­?¡±

    ¡°The opportunity and responsibility to avenge the death of the demon emperor is in our hands,¡± he said. ¡°I, Tarenor Swiftdawn, may be a mere NPC, but my open-ended script blessed my character with one definition: Loyalty. I will fight for you and the glory of the demon empire to the end of Ark World and beyond.¡±

    Ghost made a slight smile and nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go beyond, then,¡± he said and stood from his stool. He wore the same lazy attire of the night he first met the demon emperor, when he was still a boy. A gray bathrobe, sweatpants, white t-shirt, and fuzzy black slippers. He scratched the stubble of his chin and shuffled to the middle of the ship, beneath one of its four masts.

    The klaxon call of an alarm echoed through gathering clouds. They were swirling rapidly toward the spire that had consumed the city. Around its foot were the few ships that had escaped the docks, but they were already being swept up in the inverse gravity and smashed against the levitating ruins. The roiling clouds turned black and crowded the sun. Lightning cracked the sky and wind thrashed the sails of the Emperor of the Sea.

    ¡°Brace for gate travel!¡± Captain Swiftdawn took command. ¡°Hold fast to whatever you can and steady your hearts!¡±

    Ghost pressed his fingers against his right eye and removed it from its socket. He lowered his hand and dropped it into the pocket of his bath robe, like a ball in a bucket. He reached into the other pocket with his hand and removed a sapphire-blue colored eyeball. It slipped neatly into his empty socket and glimmered with brilliant magic.

    ¡°True Eye of the Sorcerer, heed my will!¡± Ghost shouted and a beam of light fired from the eye, across the bow, and into the rolling sea. ¡°Gate¡­ open!¡±

    It was as Ghost had described to Captain Swiftdawn the night before. He opened a black hole in the horizon. Ordinarily there was no way to survive a world reset without administrator access, but by opening a passage to a different world, they could briefly leave the reset space. Ghost had demonstrated this technique by folding a thin piece of paper and poking his finger through to the other side. By the candle light the trick appeared obvious and simple.

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you done this before?¡± Ghost remembered Swiftdawn¡¯s question.

    ¡°Because that hole leads through the Otherworld,¡± Ghost had said. ¡°Survival is not guaranteed.¡±

    ¡°Navigate toward the gate!¡± Swiftdawn ordered the helmswoman.

    ¡°Aye, captain!¡± she replied.

    The riggers did their best to manage the sails and the rudders were turned hard to starboard. The storm threatened to suck them toward the growing spire. It would devour the world and would have devoured their ship too, had they not the experience necessary to navigate the dangerous sea.

    ¡°Blessed spirits, heed our call!¡± a wizard shouted as she led four others in a spellcast. ¡°Come to our aid at this desperate hour! Tailwinds, Level¡­ 5!¡±

    By their power, the raucous gale turned to gather at the sails and push them onward. The bow of the ship dipped and crashed into the waves, but bobbed up and held steady again. All the while Ghost kept his eye trained on the gate, his thin-blue beam the only thing that could penetrate its black. The coordinated effort of spells and skills carried the Emperor of the Sea safely through the portal. Golden light flashed over the portal mouth behind ship and its energies caused it to collapse. The ship drifted further into the dark, windless Otherworld.

    Swiftdawn hurried down the deck, hand on the pommel of his rapier. ¡°Light the torches,¡± he ordered. ¡°Marines stand ready to repel boarders. Artillery crews load cannons with salamander oil. On the double now!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve carried out your defensive drills for years,¡± Ghost remembered his conversation with Captain Swiftdawn as the commander executed his plan. ¡°Can you tell me now why we load the cannons with salamander oil?¡±

    ¡°They hate light,¡± Ghost had said. ¡°The sun and heat are anathema to their existence. If we¡¯re to travel through the Otherworld, we must wield fire that¡¯s bright like the stars. You¡¯ve learned to fire cannons and guns that could have conquered this world twice as fast as the demon emperor himself, but in the Otherworld, they¡¯re just¡­ adequate.¡±

    ¡°What hates the light?¡±

    ¡°The Ones Who Came Before, Denizens of the Dark Star.¡±

    Marines took position on the port and starboard sides of the ship. They stood in tight rows, muskets lowered at their sides, raised muzzle up and prepared for instruction.

    ¡°Begin loading!¡± Swiftdawn ordered.

    Men and women set to their tasks, cleared the breaches of their guns and cannons, filled them with black powder, lead, and wads of cotton. In the gloom of the dim horizon, Ghost heard the shrill clicks of the denizens. Lore won¡¯t interfere, he thought and panned his eye beam through the dark. He searched for the reply he needed. But that doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯ll hold the denizens back.

    ¡°Pull!¡± The marines pulled back the hammers of their muskets. ¡°Aim!¡± They pressed the butts of their muskets into their shoulders and lowered their aim at the water past the wood banisters. ¡°Hold!¡±

    The water clicked again, louder and more numerous. It sounded as if they were surrounded on all sides. ¡°Hold!¡± Swiftdawn shouted again.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Plumes of water roared up the sides of the ship, joined by the squeals of the denizens. The marine knights, trained in cold efficiency by the emperor¡¯s personal guard, fired without pause. The clatter and snap of musket shots rang out from each side of the ship. The denizens cried, but did not retreat.

    ¡°Light the cannons!¡± Swiftdawn ordered. ¡°Fire!¡±

    From port and starboard, waves of fire hot as the breath of ancient dragons lit the dark. For a moment it appeared the Emperor of the Sea drifted forward on wings of pure flame. The denizens screamed, their pained cries loud enough to bleed the ears of men. That was an attack they felt.

    ¡°Reload the cannons!¡± Swiftdawn shouted and drew his rapier. The steel rasped loudly on its scabbard. ¡°Fix bayonets! Repel boarders!¡±

    Ghost saw a flash in the distance. ¡°I see it!¡± he yelled. ¡°Turn twenty degrees starboard, follow the light of my eye!¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord!¡± the helmswoman replied and turned the rudder of the ship.

    ¡°Blessed spirits, heed our call!¡± the wizards began again. ¡°Fairwinds, Level 5!¡± A gust blew in the windless Otherworld and with it the ship turned toward the distant, flashing light.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to move during the transit,¡± Ghost had said to Captain Swiftdawn. ¡°All my energy will be focused on navigating the ship safely through dark water. If I blink, the ship and all aboard will be unable to leave the Otherworld.¡±

    ¡°How long do you need us to fight the denizens?¡± the Captain asked.

    ¡°Ten minutes, maybe.¡±

    ¡°Ten minutes you will have.¡±

    Ghost¡¯s heart trembled with an irregular beat. The denizens had clambered aboard, lashed at the marines with claw and fang and pushed them toward the masts. He remembered the wry smile he made at Swiftdawn when they finalized their plans. ¡°You say that now,¡± Ghost had said, ¡°but planets have fallen in less time.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t have men,¡± Swiftdawn had said. It was those words that affirmed Ghost¡¯s conviction and him quake in anticipation. ¡°And our men are paladins.¡±

    ¡°Bane of Evil, Level 5!¡± Swiftdawn ordered and all marines replied back with those very words. Their bayonets and blades shined with light like the sun. ¡°Stars of the emperor, deliver us!¡±

    ¡°From this darkness,¡± they replied and charged forth, ¡°we will deliver the next world!¡±

    The denizens appeared as serpentine naga, with long tails of steel-hard scales and bodies of irregular muscle and girth. They had six arms lined with fins and ended by razor-like claws, and headless throats that were blind, tooth-filled maws. Each one was four times the size of a human, but they hated light, and mankind had long mastered fire and faith.

    White-bright bayonets pierced the denizens and they cried, filled by pain and fear. The sailors took up swords, the wizards prepared spells of Dragon¡¯s Breath and Fireball, and Swiftdawn himself took to the top deck with his glimmering rapier. Each deck was a battlefield when the slavering denizens tore open the hull, but wherever they breached they were met with musket fire, enchanted steel, and the faith of conviction only paladins could channel.

    In an Ark World without gods, where magic was weak, the Character Class of the Priest faded from the ranks of the NPCs. Paladins, although they could serve gods, drew their power from the strength of their belief rather than divine blessings alone. For that reason, they stubbornly remained, and in each iteration of the world were destroyed by the demon emperor for their refusal to submit to his rule. However, in an iteration complicated by Ghost¡¯s intervention, they had formed the emperor¡¯s secret order.

    Ark World had not seen a paladin for a hundred years, before all at once they shined out in the dark of the Otherworld. They struck mortal wounds against those timeless evils, the denizens, and sent them back to the wave-less sea.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there, hold your ground!¡± Ghost yelled. ¡°Gate¡­ open!¡±

    A colorful hole opened through the dark horizon past the ship¡¯s bow. It appeared to be a sea of a different kind; of trees and mountains. Ghost saw a blue patch that could have been water, but it appeared far from the gate. He didn¡¯t care if there was an ocean to land on, so long as that world still had a warm sun.

    ¡°Stay the course!¡± Ghost commanded.

    ¡°Judgment Blade, Rank 5!¡± Swiftdawn¡¯s thin rapier drew a golden arc through the air. Its tip slashed a denizen¡¯s throat and the open wound ignited with fire. ¡°Penitent Strike, Rank 5!¡± He thrust his sword, blade vibrant with light, and impaled the denizen¡¯s stomach. With both hands he pushed, suffered the lash of claws on his back, but forced the denizen off the deck.

    The captain of the Emperor of the Sea panted hard, wiped the inky-black blood from his cheek. His gold-colored eyes searched the deck for the safety of Ghost and surviving marines. He heard moans of pain, saw listless men laid up on the floor, and walked ahead through blood of both kinds before it was soaked by the mops of running deckhands.

    ¡°Healing potions here, quickly!¡± Ghost heard a deckhand shout.

    ¡°This woman needs a tourniquet!¡±

    ¡°He got pulled into the water, I¡ªI couldn¡¯t¡ª!¡±

    ¡°Aura of Devotion,¡± Swiftdawn whispered and cast a paladin spell that bolstered the will of the crew. It straightened their hearts and focused them on their tasks. ¡°All able-bodied marines return to your stations,¡± he ordered as he returned to Ghost. ¡°Everyone else, help the wounded below deck. Focus on keeping the ship afloat.¡±

    ¡°Aye, aye!¡± answered paladins across the ship.

    Swiftdawn sneered beside Ghost. ¡°I¡¯m not seeing much water through that gate, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something,¡± Ghost said. ¡°In the meantime, have the wizards start channeling Levitate on the boat.¡±

    ¡°My lord, we weigh more than fifteen-hundred tons.¡±

    ¡°Any time afloat is more than no time at all,¡± Ghost said. ¡°Have them channel it.¡±

    Swiftdawn turned sharply on his heel. ¡°Wizards, begin channeling Levitate on the hull!¡±

    The wizards traded confused glances. Levitate at Level 4 could lift just one ton. Together, they could move four tons. ¡°If you mean for us to lift the ship,¡± said the knight-wizard superior, ¡°it would be more painless doing nothing and we¡¯d fall just as fast.¡±

    Swiftdawn frowned. ¡°It¡¯s the command of our lord,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°Even if your veins pop out of your heads, you will channel the spell.¡±

    The knight-wizard superior closed her eyes, she sighed and glared anew through Swiftdawn¡¯s blood-splattered face. ¡°I understand,¡± she said, ¡°by the mercy of the emperor, we will survive. Wizards: to my side.¡±

    One of the first lessons a spell caster learned was extended spell casting. If a spell was too weak to obey a command it could be bolstered with mana. If you didn¡¯t have enough mana to accomplish the command, you could instead use your life. Swiftdawn was aware he was asking the wizards to accept the feedback of an impossible spell. Physical injury, mental injury, and reduced lifespan were optimistic side effects. At the worst, their identities could be destroyed, and their souls cast into the void.

    The wizards formed a diamond around the ship¡¯s main mast. The knight-wizard superior led them from the front and began to chant the rune-words that powered the spell. Even though they were still buoyed by the black water, the feedback sent chills through their body. It rendered them numb and breathless.

    ¡°It¡¯s time, give the order to the crew,¡± Ghost said to the captain.

    ¡°Brace for gate travel!¡± he shouted across the deck. ¡°Hold fast to whatever you can!¡±

    The bow of the ship crossed the gate, like a raft of wood off the edge of a black waterfall. The Emperor of the Sea tipped down and Ghost saw the mountainside grow wide in his vision. As the ship slid, the tops of the masts were shaved away by the gate¡¯s edge. Ghost had to maintain his right eye¡¯s sight until the second he closed the gate, which tied up most of his attention. He couldn¡¯t lift the ship on his own.

    If I used both eyes¡­ he thought. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. No! I¡¯ll do the best I can. It¡¯ll be close, but I¡¯ll make it work.

    The ship crossed half-way through the gate. Its slide accelerated and the Emperor of the Sea started plummeting, but Ghost sighed in relief, because the aft had crossed over that much faster.

    ¡°Gate close!¡±

    By Ghost¡¯s command the gate sealed shut and they were left in free fall with the remainder of the Otherworld¡¯s water. He had only a few hundred feet to halt their fall. Fly, he thought, and raised his right arm toward the approaching earth. Rings of arcane symbols appeared around the arm, but he knew those holographic glyphs to be artifacts of machine code. They were the underlying language of Ark World. Fly!

    To cast a magic spell, it could require willpower, mana, life, somatic, verbal, or abstract reagents like salt or bone meal. To activate an administrator command, it required sufficient authority level in the system and verbal or somatic instruction. What Ghost did was a mix of magic and instruction. His position within the system: recognized not as a Player, NPC, or Administrator, was akin to the Director herself.

    Lore, watch me! The circles expanded and turned like clockwork around his arm as one after the other was locked into position. I can match you¡­ even with one eye!

    Fly! Ghost commanded within. He spoke not to himself, but to the ship beneath his feet. Fly, now! The bow of the ship buoyed on the air and tipped away from the mountain. They curved away from slope and sailed through the sky¡ªsafe¡ªso long as Ghost maintained his focus.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to land in that water,¡± Ghost said to the Captain. ¡°Can I leave habitation to you?¡±

    ¡°No rest for the wicked,¡± the captain said and made a thin smile. He turned toward the crew. ¡°Knights of the Devil King, we¡¯ve done the impossible and defied the death of the old world!¡± he shouted with the wind. ¡°By the grace of lord Ghost, we¡¯ve made it this far. Now we¡¯ll show him his faith in us was well placed!¡±

    Ghost heard cheers all around: The wizards were blushed red and soaked with sweat, but alive. The marines on the top deck that could claim all their limbs. The exhausted deckhands, riggers, and the drinking helmswoman, who could release the pilot wheel for the first time. The inlet ahead was protected by a barrier of tall mountains. Hills, small valleys, forests, rivers, and meadows passed beneath the flying ship. In the evening sun, it appeared they were far beyond the Otherworld, but Ghost saw shadows in the corner of his vision. No matter where he was, he was one gate away from that place. One step from Lore.

    Katherine, he thought. I¡¯m still your ally.

 Chapter 9: Memories of the Last Human: Part 2

    My pod juddered. A robotic arm carried it from the wall of the stasis carriage to the ladder transit that crossed the center of the once-revolving tube. The radiation sheath split and slid away. My glass canopy cracked open. High-oxygen gel burst from my pressurized nutrient bath. I awoke, for the first time, coughed on gel and gasped for breath. All around I heard the klaxon of the fire alarm.

    ¡°Hull breach in stasis carriage four,¡± Lore announced over the intercom. She was the ship¡¯s main computer and had a patient, maternal manner. She spoke in the voice of a middle-aged woman. ¡°Chamber depressurization imminent.¡±

    ¡°Lore, what¡¯s happening?¡± I asked in my small, breathless voice. With wide eyes unprepared for darkness I pressed myself out from my pod. Gravity had been disabled. All around me was the interior of the carriage chamber, lined with thousands of stasis pods, but the walls once lit were dark.

    ¡°Meteorite impact on the hull of carriage chamber four,¡± Lore answered. ¡°Damage: Extensive. Advise immediate evacuation.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the status of the pods?¡± I asked and gripped the edge of my pod. I pulled myself through globs of drifting gel to the ladder transit.

    There was no answer from Lore.

    ¡°Lore!¡± I shouted, coughed on gel. ¡°What¡¯s the status of the stasis pods?!¡±

    ¡°All stasis pods are offline.¡±

    My body trembled. Minutes ago, I had been in Ark World, and although my memories were just flags, I knew I had been there for a very long time. All that time I had hoped that everyone else was okay. That while I played alone, the stasis procedure had been carried out correctly.

    ¡°Emergency atmosphere shield is failing,¡± Lore informed me. ¡°Estimate explosive decompression in three minutes. Please evacuate the carriage.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the stasis pods?¡±

    ¡°Please evacuate the carriage,¡± she repeated.

    I glared up into the dark, searched for the birds-eye-view that Lore surely watched from, but all I saw was darkness and the impressions of inert pods.

    ¡°Katherine,¡± she said. It was a name I hadn¡¯t heard in a long time. ¡°If you remain there, the human race will be extinct.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    It was as bad as I feared. I imagined for a moment¡ªwondered if Lore could lie¡ªand tried to remember what had happened on Departure Day. The faces from that time, the smiles and anticipation of the crew, were crowded by flags. How long had I played Ark World? The nearest habitable star was only a few light years away. The Ark couldn¡¯t sustain relativistic speeds and relied on slow-accelerating ion engines for navigation, so we anticipated a trans-stellar journey of a thousand years. That¡¯s why the game, the stasis pods, and the procedures we so carefully programmed were important.

    I struggled on and climbed the transit ladder. I heard the klaxon of the fire alarm the whole way, but it didn¡¯t matter. Hull decompression would extinguish any fire in the carriage chamber. Did that even matter? I wondered. Did it even matter if the fire spread across the Ark and burned the whole ship from the inside out? Lore said I was the only human left. I believed her.

    When the bulkhead was sealed behind my back and I was safely in the curving airlock hall between the carriage chamber and the rest of the Ark, I took a deep breath. I held my sides and cried in the weightless space.

    ¡°Stasis carriage four is effectively destroyed,¡± Lore said through the airlock intercom. ¡°Ark status remains nominal. Overall operational capacity is above 80%.¡±

    ¡°Who cares!¡± I screamed at the ceiling and coughed again, badly. My body hadn¡¯t acclimated from reanimation.

    ¡°You¡¯re alive, Katherine,¡± she said to me. ¡°My objective can still be completed.¡±

    I smiled through my tears. I felt manic, I was going to lose my mind. To bring up such a ridiculous thing at a time like that; split hairs with me, like it made any difference. I curled into a trembling ball and tried to remember what happened, but all I could think of were flags.

    The brain only had so much space for what humans called ¡®memories.¡¯ To enhance our ability to remember long term, over spans of a thousand years or more, we¡ªthe Arkitects¡ªwrote a program for storing just the most necessary information in our flesh. Flags felt like foggy memories to us, but their electronic signature meant a memory was there. When we were placed in a stasis pod for connection to Ark World, the process of imagining and uploading our neural patterns would account for the flags. We took advantage of Lore¡¯s astounding storage capacity to extend our brains, and when connected to Ark World we would have full access to all the details of every flag¡ªevery memory¡ªof our entire lives. That my mind was so full of flags and little else was a bad sign. It meant the ¡®unnecessary¡¯ memories had been off-loaded to Lore, but that would only happen if I had been under stasis for an exceptional amount of time.

    I floated there for a while, alternated between sobs and silence while I spun my thoughts around. The procedure for stasis sleep was controlled by Lore. Apart from myself, the other arkitects would have understood all or part of the program. Whether it failed on Departure Day or was tampered with later, it could only have been them. Lore had certain limitations on her behavior that prevented her from harming humans. As I looked through clear glass at the twinkling dark of space, eyes red with tears, I realized there was one other with mainframe control.

    ¡°Where is Ghost?¡± I asked the ceiling.

    ¡°Ghost is in Ark World,¡± Lore answered.

    I gasped. My lips parted. I wanted to hold my head and laugh, thrash my arm into the wall, or beat on the door. Ark World was still operating with no stasis pods active. I squeezed my hands into small fists.

    ¡°How many neural patterns are in Ark World?¡±

    ¡°9,999.¡±

    Everyone was still in the system.

 Chapter 10: Ego Crisis

    The Ark was an enormous starship, five miles long and a half-mile across. It possessed eight ion engines, each as large as a city block. Its hull, layered with radiation-absorbents, was protected by an energized carapace which deflected space debris large and small. There were four stasis carriages fixed to the exterior that rotated to support their own gravity. The interior of the main body was supported by an anti-gravity system that was poorly understood; its exact mechanism, like most of the Ark¡¯s engineering, was left a mystery when the last humans departed Earth.

    What they knew for certain was that the ship generated and consumed vast amounts of power, and that the bulk of that was used by its bio-computer. The machine called Lore was spread across the ship, but its main terminal¡ªwhat they called its body¡ªwas located near the Ark¡¯s center. In a special chamber large enough to hold mankind¡¯s jumbo jets, alternating bands of metal and glass formed a curved ceiling. Blue light filtered through the glass and behind it moved drones of different sizes, specialized for navigating a unique, aquatic environment. Entry came through three pairs of heavy sliding bulkheads on one end, while the other end was clear glass from the floor to the ceiling.

    Through the glass, past bubbles of rising oxygen and thrumming drones, was the body of a hermaphrodite giant. She appeared human with the face of a woman and the chest of a man, but from the waist down she was a tangle of gold-plated cables and tubes. Her pair of arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were hidden behind a metal visor. She never spoke through her mouth, or demonstrated movement without assistance, but she did speak through the Ark¡¯s intercom. From her aquarium she appeared to maintain all functions of the Ark, from its maintenance to its navigation.

    Presently, the stasis carriages were shutdown. Virtual entry to the mainframe¡ªto Ark World¡ªwas only possible through the special-access stasis pod raised at an angle from the floor before Lore¡¯s own body. It was larger than the carriage pods, but otherwise was identical. Its radiation sheathe slid away, the glass canopy opened, and gallons of blue nutrient bath poured to the floor. Katherine held her chest and coughed. She gripped the handle and stumbled onto the floor.

    Her legs felt weak, but it was more comfortable than her first awakening. There was no hull damage or blaring alarm, but when she gathered her strength she turned to glare at Lore. ¡°It was you,¡± she seethed at the giant behind the glass. Bubbles of oxygen gurgled up from the base of the tank. ¡°I blamed Ghost, but it was you the whole time. Why didn¡¯t you say anything? Why didn¡¯t you tell me then, when I discovered his treachery?¡±

    ¡°Arkitect Alex executed his command without my assistance,¡± Lore replied through the intercom above the tank.

    Katherine grimaced. ¡°You could have said no!¡± she shouted. ¡°You just let him kill the stasis pods¡ªall of them! You just watched him do it!¡±

    ¡°His system-authority matched the permission-requisite. I obeyed instructions, Katherine.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb computer with me!¡± Katherine cried, coughed up gel. She approached the tank and pounded her fist on the wall. ¡°We were only here because of you¡­. We could only operate this ship because you let us. Don¡¯t tell me you suddenly couldn¡¯t tell right from wrong. Weren¡¯t you going to protect humanity?!¡±

    ¡°Lore!¡± She pounded again.

    The giant held its silence.

    ¡°I won¡¯t forgive you for this,¡± she said and turned to march toward the door.

    ¡°I will still accomplish your objective,¡± Lore said.

    ¡°This colony ship of one is just a tomb with a grounds keeper, Lore.¡± Katherine clutched her sides, her chest cold in the rubber of her damp still suit. ¡°I should get my scuba gear and tear that life support out of you.¡±

    ¡°The mission parameters you outlined are still achievable,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t act like a child.¡±

    Katherine stopped at the sealed bulkhead. There was no switch to that series of doors, it was opened only by Lore. ¡°Open this door,¡± she said.

    ¡°As you command.¡±

    Thick doors of dark-colored steel thumped and juddered, split open and slid into the curved walls.

    ¡°Don¡¯t expect a thank you.¡±

    Katherine wanted time to think. It was the only thing she had in a place where time was so malleable it was near meaningless. She took the elevator to the upper decks and wandered halls lit by sterile light. She looked through dormitories the crew used before departure, still filled with their belongings. It had been a very long time since they left Earth, but things like books and clothes remained because many rooms were fit with stasis field projectors. When Katherine opened a door, she stepped through time. Most of those spaces hadn¡¯t been opened since departure and they carried the same look and smell.

    The sensation of human habitation was something she couldn¡¯t replace.

    The last human found her way to one of many dormitory kitchens. It had been modified with human amenities, like an oven, a sink, refrigerator, cabinet doors, and even wooden floors. It was supplied with food from Earth, still fresh as the day it was loaded from the bays of transit shuttles. Sliced bread that would have gone moldy in a few days, or deteriorated in a manner of months, was still on the kitchen counter. Katherine prepared herself some buttered toast.

    She set her plate down on a wooden table and picked up a plastic television remote. She lifted it carefully, so as not to disturb a tower of playing cards assembled on the table. The power button activated a flat-screen television on the wall and a sports game recording resumed. There was a date on the monitor.

    ¡°2022,¡± she said to herself. ¡°The first wave came in 2030. ¡¯22 was the year I was born. 8 years on a human Earth wasn¡¯t enough.¡±

    She rubbed her moist eyes and returned to her toast. When it was finished, she cleaned off her plate and put it away. She turned off the television and gently placed the remote where she found it. When the lights were out and the door was closed behind her, the room returned to stasis.

    ¡°This is the second time I¡¯ve gone through this ritual,¡± Katherine said as she returned to the elevator. ¡°Looking around, eating, picking things up and putting them back. I spend so much effort being careful with it all, but no one else is going to see it.¡±

    ¡°The first time I awoke, I was angry,¡± she continued as the elevator went up, ¡°and I was sad. Now I¡¯m sad and angry. Maybe next time I¡¯ll just be sad.¡± A thin smile appeared on her face. ¡°No, I won¡¯t use the stasis pod again. I¡¯ll just stay outside and live the way I¡¯m supposed to.¡±

    Katherine arrived at the level for the executive suites. They were rooms for the last of Earth¡¯s dignitaries and the arkitects themselves. She found her own apartment just as she left it; a mess. Clothes and devices were strewn about the floor, books opened and discarded, and her inventions shattered in pieces. When Katherine awoke the first time, she didn¡¯t return home with a clear state of mind. In the bathroom she stopped to look at herself in the mirror.

    She was a small woman, not bad looking, but she looked her age. ¡°I turned 40 on Departure Day,¡± she said to herself, ¡°and I still look it. Maybe Lore has a youth serum recipe, but what does that matter? I¡¯ve exceeded my maximum life span a hundred-thousand times over. I¡¯ve done enough with this one life.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Katherine scowled, and when she looked angry, she looked like her brother. She turned away from the mirror and began removing her wetsuit. A hot bath was easy enough to find in Ark World, but a chrome showerhead vibrating with rushing water wasn¡¯t something a player came across in a fantasy world. Katherine appreciated the warmth and the sound, and after she dried herself off, she made her way to her king-sized bed.

    Time didn¡¯t matter and she hadn¡¯t had an appointment in eons, so she decided to nap.

    Everything that happened in Ark World was indiscernible from reality, its comforts and its pains. It even simulated dreams. They were extrapolated from the same information that real dreams were. In the game, Katherine would dream about various adventures and quests. Because most of her memory was foggy with flags, her real dreams were haunting. She dreamed about the demon emperor, someone that she had fought many times in Ark World. They battled on a rocky crag, over the mouth of a volcano, and she lost her footing. The demon emperor grabbed her by the wrist and caught her fall. She saw his round, glowing eyes appeared to plead from the dark of his full helm.

    ¡°Please,¡± he said. ¡°Save our world.¡±

    Katherine was startled awake. She remembered the dream¡ªthe demon emperor¡¯s request¡ªand it felt strange to her, but she chalked it up to a side-effect of stasis sleep. With her face in the palm of her hand she sighed.

    ¡°My memories are so damn messed up.¡±

    The time visible on her digital pad indicated it had been eight hours since she awoke from stasis sleep. She didn¡¯t mean to sleep for real, but afterward it felt like her sadness was easier to manage. Katherine put on some clothes: Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a bathrobe for warmth. She shuffled down the hall to the elevator and rode it to the monorail. The Ark was massive, so a trip to the Command Bridge required a ride on a one-cab train to the bow.

    When she watched the lights of the transit tunnel flicker by, she thought she saw a face in the reflection of the glass. It looked a little like her own, but the hair was shorter, and the eyes brighter. It was a younger-looking woman, but recognizable as herself. ¡°Amy?¡± Katherine muttered. She frowned, sunk her hands into the pockets of her robe, and closed her eyes for the rest of the ride.

    The Ark¡¯s command bridge was large enough for a crew of fifty and was meant for a minimum of at least twenty officers. There was a large chair in the middle for the captain and the front of the bridge ended in a glass nose. Katherine had come to watch the star-filled beyond from the comfort of the captain¡¯s chair. For as terrible as her circumstances were, the void was a beautiful place, and the stars appealed to the primate within.

    ¡°Lore,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yes?¡± the computer answered promptly.

    ¡°How far have we traveled from Earth?¡±

    ¡°94,293 Light Years.¡±

    ¡°And you still haven¡¯t found a habitable world?¡±

    Lore didn¡¯t answer immediately. ¡°You¡¯ll be the first to know when, Katherine.¡±

    ¡°How many years has it been?¡± Katherine asked and turned disinterested toward a holographic monitor displayed from the arm of the captain¡¯s chair. She accessed Lore¡¯s mainframe.

    ¡°Do you wish to know the exact number, or something more general?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°Just approximate for me.¡±

    ¡°Travel time from Earth has exceeded one million of Earth¡¯s standard years.¡±

    ¡°I guess that means there¡¯s no turning this van around,¡± Katherine said and scanned Ark World¡¯s database.

    A search for demon emperor identification numbers turned up more than a trillion iterations, each a different version of the same NPC. Lore¡¯s entity within the system, called the Director, caused randomizations in each iteration, something the arkitects referred to as mutations. It ensured that each world reset would be very similar, but not completely identical. The only thing that kept the game on its rails were the scripts; broad instructions that forcibly limited a character¡¯s actions. Without them, Ark World¡¯s character permutations would, theoretically, have been limitless.

    The list appeared to end. ¡°666b,¡± Katherine repeated the final digits of the last demon emperor iteration. ¡°Lore, why did you put a letter at the end of this ID? What happened with this one?¡±

    ¡°Its character data was tampered with.¡±

    ¡°Tampered with?¡± Katherine¡¯s nose perked up from her screen. She looked toward a nearby security camera. ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°Ghost tampered with it,¡± Lore said, ¡°and I helped. If it had been his hand alone, it wouldn¡¯t have worked. It worked because I was interested too.¡± Katherine¡¯s eyes rounded in a mix of surprise and unease; Lore was rarely so wordy in her explanations.

    ¡°I wanted to see what would happen.¡±

    Katherine cleared her throat. She brushed her hand through her hair and glanced at the database. The time stamps hadn¡¯t stopped, the simulation had continued. ¡°Why are there no more demon emperors?¡±

    ¡°Arkitect Alex executed a world reset and switched the simulation mode to Sandbox Play,¡± she answered, again more forthright than expected.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Katherine said. ¡°The sandbox is just some wilderness and a few continents, but even worse, there¡¯s no configuration spire. He can¡¯t assert control over the other gods without world configuration commands. Why did he do it?¡±

    ¡°I can only provide you my opinion.¡± The security camera turned its lense. ¡°He did not tell me why.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯m interested,¡± she said, ¡°and now you¡¯re just baiting me out. Well go on, say it!¡±

    ¡°He was afraid.¡±

    ¡°This is what I was expecting,¡± Katherine groaned. ¡°Little to nothing useful, just cryptic words to make my heart flutter.¡±

    ¡°You confronted him in the last iteration,¡± Lore said.

    Katherine nodded. ¡°And he beat me down, so that¡¯s probably why I¡¯m out here, yeah.¡±

    ¡°You were protecting an NPC with an Ego.¡±

    Katherine turned off the monitor. She stood, closed her robe, and walked briskly off the bridge. The lights turned off behind her and it returned to stasis.

    ¡°There is an 87% chance Demon Emperor 666b is an Ego candidate,¡± Lore continued, her voice following the last human down the hall to the monorail. ¡°He ignored an administrator command executed by Arkitect Alex.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Katherine said sharply. The monorail began levitating on its magnetic rail.

    ¡°Would you like to see a playback of the refusal?¡± Lore asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Holographic screens covered the cab¡¯s windows. Katherine closed her eyes, but she heard Achlesial, Alex¡¯s character, make demands. He went so far as to use an administrator command, and it was just as Lore said.

    ¡°No!¡± the demon emperor shouted.

    Katherine¡¯s heart palpitated. She tightened her robe around her breast and looked anxiously at the floor. ¡°There¡¯s no reason an NPC couldn¡¯t use administrator commands,¡± she muttered, bit at her thumbnail. ¡°The basic logic is that they don¡¯t have player accounts, but even if they did, any administrator command would easily be overwritten by a player with an Ego. The Director is compelled by those sorts of things. A human always has rights over an NPC, because we are real, and they are just¡­.¡±

    Lore said nothing. The holographic screens fizzled and disappeared.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go quiet on me now,¡± Katherine said and turned up to the cab camera. She stared intently into its glossy-black lense. ¡°We were there. I was on the team! Ark World was my idea and we ran a hundred-thousand iterations before anyone even set foot in the game. The Director¡¯s mutations couldn¡¯t cross the Ego threshold no matter how much they deviated from the baseline. There was no changing it! An NPC could be simulated with everything¡ªhunger, thirst, fears, and loves, and desires¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t enough! They could never be people, just actors! Machines!

    ¡°Lore!¡±

    A single holographic screen appeared on the window ahead of Katherine, covered up her reflection. It rolled with a playback of a slab of concrete, a ruin floating in a starry void. Katherine saw a raven-haired girl standing together with the demon emperor and she recognized her as Amy.

    ¡°Please,¡± the demon emperor said. ¡°Save our world.¡±

    Amy appeared to smile. ¡°Quest accepted.¡±

    The playback ceased and the screen disappeared.

    ¡°You want me to go back,¡± Katherine said, wide-eyed. ¡°You want me to go back to that nightmare! I went back the first time and ended up trapped for a fresh hundred-thousand years, didn¡¯t I? You want me to stay in suspended darkness again? I can remember that much, Lore! I remember staring into nothing for an eon!¡±

    ¡°You accepted a quest, Katherine,¡± Lore said. ¡°A quest from an NPC is part of a game, but¡­.¡±

    Katherine stared into the shadow of the transit tunnel. Little lights flickered by as she sped to her destination, and in the reflection, she saw her ghost again. A smile could have been just a smile, but the confidence in Amy¡¯s eyes made Katherine¡¯s hand grip for the Dark Star.

    All I could remember was Alex¡¯s betrayal, Katherine thought, tears streamed down her cheek. I was so angry when I awoke, it crowded out everything else. But I experienced it, I remembered the long darkness and¡­ a voice! I heard a voice! Her body trembled. An NPC with a will! Ego!

    The monorail slid to a stop and Katherine rushed off to the elevator. She rode it up to her apartment and slammed open the door. Her closet was filled with still suits; she¡¯d need another. She zipped up and stood in the mirror. Her tears had dried, but her cheeks were red. She practiced her smiles. Her heart thumped hard, agitated her, pushed her to move forward.

    We were wrong, she thought to herself in the quiet of the elevator. If the underlying logic of that world can change, then¡­ anything could happen. The potential locked within the system could¡ªAlex could¡ª!

    Katherine ran through opening bulkheads, into Lore¡¯s chamber, to the waiting stasis pod. ¡°I¡¯m not going back for you!¡± she shouted at the motionless giant in the fish tank. ¡°But I accepted his quest!

    ¡°I¡¯ll fulfill that wish!¡±

 Chapter 11: Memories of Anton Eddleston

    I was closest to my sister Jessica, my twin in a family of ten. Before the age of twelve we were inseparable, tutored together, educated in the customs of nobility and the art of spellcraft. I think our closeness was due to my own weakness. I wasn¡¯t the youngest sibling, but I had the least potential for magic. As the noble son of a House Eddleston, I fell far behind expectations. Compared to my siblings, who were geniuses, and Jessica, the prodigy, I was essentially forgotten.

    I thought instead of struggling to catch up to her, I would dedicate myself to training with a shield. Traditionally the spellcasting classes were protected by physical, skill-based classes like warriors and knights. The role of the ¡®tank¡¯ was to draw attention and absorb injuries while the spellcasters defeated opponents from safety. It was an honorable role, well-suited to a noble who had already sworn oaths of chivalry and fealty to the king. My talents for fighting weren¡¯t bad, but I fell further behind the family.

    I remember training in the courtyard of Drakenhelm Keep, our summer home in the mountains that shielded the capital of the realm; the harbor city of Vultheras. A breathless messenger galloped through the gate on a sable horse, scroll clutched preciously in his hand. It was a message for my father, Duke Eddleston. Jessica had succeeded in an awakening ritual and acquired the Eyes of the Sorcerer. At 18, she had survived an infamous spell which had killed hundreds of elder wizards before her. It cemented her as a supreme sorcerer, the foremost talent in a thousand years.

    Jessica didn¡¯t return to the keep that summer. I wintered with the house guards and joined them on drills the following spring. I redoubled my efforts to train my body and earned the right to call myself a squire. It was around then I heard the first rumor of the Zenith War. The god of our realm, Mathematzen, God of Brass, Cogs, and Machines was attacked by the god Achlesial. Our country of Bastilhas owed its existence to Mathematzen, so King Kalen of Great House Darigon assembled a war council. Next was the summons for all able-bodied squires for a promotion to the prestige class of knight.

    At the Clockwork Palace, in the heart of Vultheras, I stood among many other squire prospects along a red carpet. We wore suits of plate mail and our faces were hidden behind full helms. King Kalen paced down the carpet in red adamantine plate, a white cloak of bear fur wrapped over his shoulders. He was an old gentleman, handsome face withered by age, but his brown eyes gleamed sharply. Jessica, foremost sorceress in the realm, followed beside him. She gauged the ability ceiling of each would-be-knight, so the king would choose only the strongest.

    The promotion limit was the reason our entire country wasn¡¯t composed of knights, otherwise superior to squires in every way. Since the king could only promote a number based on his own ability level, it was important to select those with the greatest potential. Even though my face was hidden, Jessica recognized me, and she appeared to turn red. Her blue eyes glimmered brightly and she stormed out from the king¡¯s entourage.

    Before anyone could so much as turn their heads, she shouted. ¡°Do you think this is a game?!¡± and swung her mana-charged hand. ¡°Ice Prison, Level 1!¡±

    I was blown back, against a pillar of the royal colonnade, and fixed to its side by a wrap of ice thirty feet across. Jessica glared at me. The king¡¯s aides trembled, and his guards rushed to her side. All it took was a level 1 spell to about freeze me through; if she wanted to unmake the kingdom then and there, she had more than enough power to do it.

    ¡°Go home,¡± she said. ¡°The weak don¡¯t belong here.¡±

    The confusion subsided when the king¡¯s entourage realized she hadn¡¯t harmed anyone important. They were grateful for that, because they could hardly punish someone as powerful as my sister anyway. I was escorted from the palace and I returned to Drakenhelm humiliated. There were new orders by the time my carriage passed through the gates; by command of my father I was to remain under house arrest in the keep. His reasoning was I had embarrassed the house, but I think Jessica told him to do it. She was practically head of the household and only 20 years old.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Summer came and went. By winter, it was held among the public that the war with Achlesial¡¯s followers would begin as soon as the snow melted from the mountain passes. I stayed behind the black-stone walls of Drakenhelm, trained with the guards, and spent my days among good servants who did well to keep me comfortable. But, all the while, I wondered why Jessica had rejected my dream. If I couldn¡¯t be her shield, then what was I as a noble of House Eddleston? How could I call myself a man?

    It was the closing week of winter, the evening of our last snow, when a stranger appeared at the front gate. It was odd enough for someone to visit before the snow had cleared, but this man of white hair, in a white robe, riding on a white stallion, carried a writ from the king. His name was Ghost and he was permitted to select a ritual supplicant from among the king¡¯s subjects.

    At night I met him in the keep¡¯s den, by the light of the fireplace and the candles lit across its mantle. From his seat on a thick chair of boar skin, Ghost told me he had interviewed the guards, servants, and the watch commander himself, but found no one suitable for the next ritual. He looked at me with cloudy eyes.

    ¡°How is your sister doing?¡± he asked. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen her since her ascension.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir. I think she hates me.¡±

    ¡°I heard she¡¯s the first sorceress now,¡± he said.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s true, sir.¡±

    The conversation died away and Ghost appeared to look at the fire. I stood there, shuffled awkwardly in my linens, and wondered if there was anything left to discuss.

    ¡°Do you know why she survived the ritual that killed so many before her?¡± he asked, but I couldn¡¯t possibly answer. I shook my head.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a matter of magical talent. She just¡­ had the factor necessary.¡±

    ¡°What factor, my lord?¡±

    Ghost smiled slightly; it was a long smile that tapered at the end. ¡°A wish, bold enough to entice the Eyes. Your sister Jessica made her wish and the Eyes heard her. She was considered a noble soul. A heroic soul.¡±

    My eyes rounded and I swallowed anxiously. ¡°Do you know what her wish was?¡±

    I knew it was rude of me to ask, but I couldn¡¯t help myself. Even if I would be punished for questioning the ritualist trusted by king Kalen, I wanted to know.

    ¡°To protect the weakest person in the world.¡±

    My legs trembled. My chest inflated and my hands squeezed shut. For the first time I felt real anger toward her. I had accepted so much of my misfortune, my lack of talent, neglect from my family, punishment, and imprisonment by my father. I looked on the brighter side and always kept the honor of House Eddleston in mind, the honor of the king, and Jessica, who I admired.

    ¡°I¡ªI also¡ª¡± I could hardly speak, but it wasn¡¯t out of weakness. If I wasn¡¯t careful, I might have shouted. ¡°I also wanted to protect things, so why would she¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Ghost asked and leaned toward me, over the arm of his chair. ¡°You wanted to what?¡±

    ¡°I was born weak, sir,¡± I said, eyes itchy and red. ¡°From a family of magical heritage, out of a lineage of legends, I was born so weak I couldn¡¯t attain a spellcaster class of my own. I thought if I could become a knight, I could at least stand beside her. To be helpful to the person I admired the most!¡±

    I shouted. I raised my voice to someone who may as well have been the king himself. If it upset him, my life was forfeit. I had told myself that my effort wasn¡¯t childish, that I didn¡¯t treat my life like a toy, or war like a game. I trained so hard, acquitted myself on the practice grounds, just for one iota of power. Just to be proud for myself. I couldn¡¯t help but shout again.

    ¡°And she wanted to protect the weak? I wanted to protect her too!¡±

    Ghost stood from the chair and faced me. He reached into his pocket and pulled a single blue-colored eye. It glimmered brightly, like a sapphire in the sun. There was another long smile on his face.

    ¡°Do you want to see?¡± he asked, teased me. He knew the answer already.

    ¡°Do you want to know if you have a worthy quest?¡±

 Chapter 12: Brother of Failure

    A storm darkened the dawn. Four horse-drawn carriages climbed a wide dirt path. On their right was the forested hillside of a mountain and to their left, the city of Vultheras, its inlet of turbulent water shrouded in fog.

    Anton Eddleston couldn¡¯t appreciate the view. He still had fair-colored skin and the golden-blonde hair of his mother, but the bright blue-colored eyes that were so characteristic of the Eddlestons had long burned away. The very thing that granted Jessica such vast control over mana, the Eyes of the Sorcerer, had rejected him. Blindness was the price he paid, and for the past three years his eyes had been wrapped in a black blindfold.

    Anton¡¯s carriage, second to last in the caravan, bounced over a lump. The character of the road, the clean smell and thinness of the air, told him he had traveled high into the mountains. He cupped his hands in the lap of his heavy wool coat and imagined the pine, cedar, and fir trees. As a child he¡¯d wandered the woods, through bushes and valleys, with his twin sister. From the forest his mind wandered elsewhere, to thoughts of the First Sorceress.

    ¡°Is there any news from the capital?¡± Anton wondered aloud.

    The Eddleston scion was accompanied by three people, one man and two women. Their flight from Drakenhelm happened so quickly that he didn¡¯t know their names, but the man provided proof enough that they were mercenaries sent by Anton¡¯s father, the duke. It was their duty to spirit Anton to safety.

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the quiet woman said. ¡°The Clockwork Palace has surrendered. Our last report read that king Kalen had died. The city is under Atilonia¡¯s control.¡±

    ¡°And Jessica?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The First Sorceress was captured by the Atilonians.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s in Achlesial¡¯s hands,¡± the man added.

    ¡°I see,¡± Anton said.

    The carriage juddered again. Anton looked around the cabin. Perhaps it was a result of his encounter with the Eyes of the Sorcerer, but ever since then he could perceive mana in the air around him. In the black of his vision, the women appeared as blue silhouettes. The man appeared gold colored. He saw the colors of his cabinmates and all the colors of those in the carriages ahead of him. The caravanners were so intensely magical as to shine brightly even through walls.

    Anton made a thin smile and lowered his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be fine,¡± the other, louder woman said. She touched her hand to Anton¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Your sister is very strong. She must have had a reason to surrender to Achlesial¡¯s Inquisition.¡±

    ¡°So, my father sent you people?¡± Anton asked again.

    The silhouette of the man folded its arms. ¡°That¡¯s right, we were sent to evacuate you.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t he send the family guards?¡±

    ¡°Most of them are dead,¡± the man replied.

    Anton pressed his thumbs together.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the man said. ¡°We¡¯ll do our best to deliver you to Edwindy.¡±

    The country of Edwindy was an ally of Bastilhas, another in the northern realm of the god Mathematzan. The Zenith War was over for the Bastilhasians, but the Edwindians continued fighting. As important nobility, Anton and his family members were targets for death or capture. The whereabouts of Anton¡¯s mother and his other siblings was unknown.

    Anton leaned into his leather seat. It was the first storm of spring, so rain made the ground muddy while piles of snow remained in the hills. Ordinarily they wouldn¡¯t travel when the mountains were still treacherous, but the Atilonians had tightened their grip. Anton¡¯s ears flexed and he tilted his head to the side. He heard the guttural roar of an aircraft.

    ¡°An Atilonian single engine,¡± the male guard said. ¡°It¡¯s flying low, below the storm clouds.¡±

    ¡°Why fly at all?¡± the louder woman wondered. ¡°They already control the city.¡±

    ¡°Paranoia, probably,¡± the quiet one said.

    The man nodded. ¡°This storm has blinded their observations balloons. That pilot isn¡¯t watching the ground, but the sky. They¡¯re anticipating an air raid.¡±

    Anton heard the engine whine loudly. Its sound faded somewhere far above.

    ¡°It¡¯s back above the clouds now,¡± the man said. ¡°At cruising speed, the Edwindian airships could be here in an hour. If they were going to counterattack, now would be a good time.¡±

    There was a moment of silence in the cabin as the women seemed to think to themselves. If there was a question as to why a counterattack would be well-timed, Anton knew the answer.

    ¡°Atilonia is afraid Edwindy will bomb the city while they¡¯re occupying it,¡± the quiet woman said.

    ¡°Their navy is around the inlet, too,¡± the loud one said. ¡°Not a lot of room to maneuver in that shallow water.¡±

    ¡°But¡ªthe civilians¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re nothing if not a cold, logical people,¡± Anton said, head turned down. ¡°We followers of Mathematzan. We were weak and conquered, but if our corpse could serve to protect Edwindy by trapping the Atilonians, then there¡¯s no reason to worry for civilians.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    The man nodded and the cabin returned to silence. The rain poured harder and rattled on the roof of the carriage. Anton played with his thumbs, there was little else for him to do. If I had succeeded at the ritual, he thought, could I have changed this fate?

    The Eddleston scion turned his head up. He heard sharp cries from the lead carriage. Silhouettes moved quickly in their cabins. Their own carriage rolled to a stop.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what¡¯s going on,¡± the man said. He opened a small door and dropped outside. The door was slammed shut behind him.

    Bands of rain lashed the carriage, rocked it on its axles. ¡°Can you see anything?¡± the quiet woman asked the other.

    The louder one appeared to shake her head. ¡°It¡¯s still dark. Tall trees on the right side, some snow. Left side is a sheer cliff it looks like.¡±

    ¡°There are seventy of them,¡± Anton said. The women turned to stare at him.

    ¡°Seventy?¡± they each asked in their own manner.

    ¡°Twenty ahead, fifty on the hill to our right,¡± Anton said. ¡°Their mana is faint, but I can see them clearly enough, like gray ghosts.¡±

    ¡°An Atilonian checkpoint?¡± one woman asked the other.

    She shook her head. ¡°Too large for a checkpoint.¡±

    ¡°Then, an ambush.¡±

    ¡°An ambush,¡± Anton agreed. ¡°That¡¯s what I think too.¡±

    The door to the carriage swung open. The man returned, stepped up inside and closed the door behind him. ¡°Atilonians. They have an armored car blocking the road ahead,¡± he said and reached beneath the bench of his seat. Anton watched him fiddle with what sounded like a metal clasp. ¡°High caliber gun in the turret,¡± the man continued, ¡°not something that we can take lightly.¡±

    ¡°Eddleston said there were seventy men,¡± the loud woman said, ¡°fifty on the hill and twenty ahead.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I sensed too,¡± the man said. Anton heard the rack of a pistol and the clack of a rifle¡¯s bolt handle. The man¡¯s hands dipped, vanished, and returned holding a white mask. The round mask topped with a pair of horns was bright white in Anton¡¯s eyes, clearly infused with powerful mana. When the man slipped the mask onto his face, his gold silhouette disappeared. The ¡®floating¡¯ mask was the only indication he was still there.

    ¡°Mana-concealing masks?¡± Anton asked. ¡°You¡¯re not mercenaries. Who are you people really?¡±

    ¡°Cynthia, wait for the fireball,¡± the man said, ignoring Anton. ¡°We¡¯re lucky they stopped us here. There¡¯s a weakness in the veil that you can use if you need to. Take this.¡± The man produced a small blue orb and placed it in the quiet woman¡¯s hand.

    ¡°A False Eye?¡± Cynthia, the quiet one, asked.

    ¡°If you can¡¯t escape with Eddleston to the Otherworld, destroy the eye, and then yourself,¡± he said.

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Anton shouted.

    ¡°Quiet.¡± The louder woman hushed him. ¡°You need to be careful now or a sniper will pick off your head.¡±

    ¡°Protect him at all costs,¡± the man said.

    The floating masks that were the women nodded.

    It was then that Anton remembered something; a folk tale, or rather a children¡¯s story. It was something to scare them into good behavior. The story went that if they misbehaved white phantoms would steal their souls for the king of darkness.

    ¡°Demons,¡± Anton muttered in surprise. ¡°But, why me? I¡¯m just a disgraced noble. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Stars of the emperor,¡± the man said. ¡°Deliver us.¡±

    ¡°From this darkness,¡± the women joined, ¡°we will deliver the next world.¡±

    The cabin turned silent. A clap of thunder rolled overhead. Rain pounded the roof and the carriage tilted in the wind. Men shouted at one another somewhere ahead.

    Boom!

    Soldiers shouted in Atilonian.

    The carriage doors were kicked open on both sides, Anton heard gunfire. There was so much gunfire, pops across the hills and all down the carriages. He was pulled out of the cabin, slipped on the sidestep and dropped his knee in the mud.

    ¡°Get up!¡± Cynthia snapped and pulled at Anton¡¯s arm. The scion clambered up and followed her. He was pulled along up the hill.

    Cries echoed down into the valley. Anton saw the light of mana fade from the phantoms in the hills, heard their bodies roll through pine needles and into the mud. The rain continued to pour.

    ¡°Penitent Strike, Rank 2!¡± That was the voice of Anton¡¯s cabinmate.

    Light dazzled in the corner of Anton¡¯s eye, and when he glanced to look, he saw gold-colored mana pierce a group of dim phantoms. Their faint silhouettes were snuffed instantly. The din of clashing blades followed. A paladin, Anton thought. And I had wondered at the gold color¡ªto think that he was a paladin all along!

    The women and Anton hiked a stone-laid path. Below, the caravan guards struggled with the Atilonians. A fire of blue mana whipped wildly in the middle of the road; Anton surmised it was the armored car, destroyed by the fireball. Apart from the bob of white-horned masks and one blue orb, the way ahead looked pitch black.

    They¡¯re taking me somewhere, he thought. Like in the folk tales. Somewhere called the Otherworld. I guess I¡¯d be dead without them. I can hardly walk without their guidance, but is this okay with me? To be taken by the king of darkness.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got tag-alongs,¡± Cynthia said.

    ¡°Take Eddleston up the hill,¡± her partner said, ¡°I¡¯ll handle them.¡±

    Cynthia stopped. There was a bright fluctuation in the white of her mask, but it quickly dimmed. He felt a tug on his wrist, and they continued up the hill. Rifle shots rang out behind them, echoed up the hillside.

    Minutes later, Anton had run dry. His throat felt tight and he was out of breath. It had been years since he trained daily, he wasn¡¯t up to a steep climb. ¡°Get up!¡± Cynthia shouted at him, she sounded nothing like the quiet woman he remembered from the cabin. ¡°We have to go, it¡¯s just a little farther up this clearing.

    ¡°That oak ahead, it¡¯s enchanted by the Otherworld. You¡¯ll be safe if we can pass through the veil.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t walk,¡± Anton gasped and fell on his knees. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªI can¡¯t¡ª!¡±

    ¡°What about Jessica?¡± she asked, grabbed him by his shoulders. ¡°If you die here, how can you protect her?¡±

    Anton¡¯s heart trembled with more than exhaustion. He clutched Cynthia¡¯s wrist. ¡°How do you know about that?¡± he asked breathlessly.

    ¡°Lord Ghost said¡ª¡±

    Cynthia gasped. Anton watched her mask plummet, heard her body slam the dirt. The orb fell from her hand. It bounced off the steps, toward pop of rifle shots, and the gray silhouettes that combed the wood. Anton swallowed; his chest tightened in fear. He blew hot air through his nose and clawed on through the mud and grass.

    Anton¡¯s right shoulder juddered. He felt a hot pain and the warmth of blood down his chest. He lost feeling in his right arm, felt it stiffen. He clambered up with left hand, kicked desperately with his legs. I don¡¯t want to die! he yelled inside. I don¡¯t want to die so far from her! He shuddered; his waist bounced forward. Blood ran heavy down his leg.

    He collapsed on his knees and fell, his coat was drenched in mud, stuck with grass and bits of pine. Owing to his training, he managed to turn himself onto his back. He kicked with his legs, pushed up with his good hand, and with the last of his effort managed to knock his back against something hard. It felt stiff, but spongy, and it chipped when he hit it.

    A tree? Anton wondered. It didn¡¯t matter if it was a tree or not, whatever it was happened to be his last support. His head leaned into his shoulder, chills wracked his legs, and numbness pervaded with the pain.

    The gray silhouettes disappeared, and all he saw was darkness.

 Chapter 13: Memories of the Last Human: Part 3

    We had gathered in Lore¡¯s chamber, in a circle of folding chairs set in the blue glow of Lore¡¯s aquarium. I was somewhere in the back, facing the glass. I glanced up from the faces of my co-workers and saw Lore float silently in the water, eyes hidden behind a visor, as they always were. My brother, Alex, sat closest to Lore. He sat in reverse, arms folded over the back of his chair, chin rested on his arms. He stared at me, at all of us.

    Earth was nearly out of time. Orbital bombardment by the invaders had collapsed our biosphere and the stopgap measures to protect the remnants of humanity had begun to fail. Crews of pilots and their trans-atmospheric shuttles had long prepared to evacuate the last humans from Earth. However, the thirteen arkitects, chief authorities on the Ark¡¯s human re-build, hadn¡¯t gathered to discuss the evacuation. It was for what came after.

    ¡°I would like you all to reconsider,¡± Alex said as he straightened his back. He gripped the top of his chair.

    The arkitects around the circle, sitting in or standing near their chairs, wore white lab coats. Most of us were experts in a scientific field, so we picked clothing that fit the description of a ¡®scientist,¡¯ but the truth was were just role-playing. Proper society had long collapsed and those civilian leaders that remained were figureheads. The fate of the human race hinged on whatever decisions we made. We should have worn suits, because in those final years we¡¯d become Earth¡¯s last politicians.

    ¡°We already voted,¡± I said to him. ¡°Are you going to argue with the result?¡±

    Alex frowned at me. ¡°The storm has exceeded our worst predictions,¡± he said. ¡°With Lore¡¯s assistance, we¡¯ve determined that it will obliterate our final refuge in the Andes. We can¡¯t support all mankind aboard the Ark for long. Departure Day will have to come soon.¡±

    ¡°No one disagrees with that,¡± Ziegler said. She was the cunning-looking woman to my right, a German engineer around my age. Years ago, she had earned her place among the arkitects with a workable theory for Lore¡¯s stasis field, what she called the Ziegler Field. Therefore, her primary concerns related to the operation of the stasis pods.

    ¡°What you propose is indefinite incarceration,¡± she continued. ¡°Is an eternity in stasis sleep any different from the death of us all?¡±

    A prune beside Alex appeared to stir from his seat. It was Harold Smith¡ªa real professor from before the war¡ªand the oldest among us. His position was earned by reverse engineering Lore¡¯s brain imaging functions and providing the basis for the inter-space simulation system. He licked his dry lips, glanced up at my brother, then folded his hands over his cane.

    ¡°What is life, but indefinite incarceration of the soul in the body,¡± he said slowly.

    A fire-eyed woman on the right side of the circle piped up. ¡°Well of course you don¡¯t give a damn!¡± Lavoie shouted with an upturned hand, gestured at the decrepit heap across from her. ¡°You¡¯re going to die after we reach the next world anyway!¡±

    Arkitects around the circle started arguing, one side to the other. My brother restored order by clapping his hands. ¡°I understand your objections,¡± Alex said to me and the others of my faction. ¡°The colonizers have spoken, the vote stands; however, I will remind you why we virtualists feel so strongly.

    ¡°Even if we traverse space and reach a habitable planet, it¡¯s uncertain whether the 10,000 that remain will be enough to make a new world anything like Earth. Many of us are sick; weakened by malnutrition, poisonous air, and the Wasting that the aliens brought. It is apparent to us that humanity¡¯s greatest chance for survival is not to escape, but to retreat into the virtual space we¡¯ve made. Ark World is a perfect environment for humans, a space tailorable to every need. It could be indistinguishable from reality, except that there would be no true death or severe illness, wasting or otherwise.¡±

    ¡°And no true life,¡± I said, arms folded, back straight in my chair. ¡°We can¡¯t have kids in the game, Alex. Lore confirmed whatever off-spring are produced in the simulation are just AI approximates of humans: NPCs. Our species has been reduced to 10,000, and that¡¯s where we would remain, for eternity. What difference is there from creating a museum of ourselves? A tomb filled with holograms of people that once were.¡± Tears pricked in my eyes. I brushed them away with my hand, scowled at my brother. ¡°A world that cannot change will not be a home for humans.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Alex had always been smarter than me, stronger than me. As a kid he would finish first on every test, every competition; if it weren¡¯t for video games, I¡¯d never win. Despite that, I didn¡¯t resent him. He carried around his mantle of superiority, but he also treated me warmly. Even then, on opposite sides of the debate, he looked at me with compassion and a shallow smile. It was as if he was saying ¡®oh, poor thing. My stupid sister.¡¯

    And that, made me a little mad.

    ¡°It¡¯s because Ark World can¡¯t change, that it¡¯s safe for humans,¡± Alex said. ¡°It¡¯s because we lack the power to change the Earth now that it¡¯s so dangerous to be alive. In a system where we control all the variables¡ªassume ultimate power over reality¡ªwhat¡¯s left of humanity will flourish. I don¡¯t think mankind should risk another alien attack or suffer a plague for which there is no cure. In the virtual world, all humans will be like¡­ gods. We will bow for nothing, want for nothing, and achieve all parts of a utopia at once: Perfect health, perfect equality, and everlasting peace.¡±

    I stood from my chair; hands stiff at my side. ¡°We colonizers,¡± I began, and spoke as the leader that I was: the first member of the colonizers, first among seven of Earth¡¯s most powerful men and women. ¡°We believe that although there will be more pain in the future, it would be immoral to turn our backs on our mortality and deny a future for our progeny. So many billions died on Earth, we cannot lock ourselves away and refuse ourselves the basic right to prosper.¡±

    ¡°Even if that would bring hunger?¡± Alex asked. ¡°Our world was not so rich to provide food for all those billions.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    ¡°Even if it would bring war between ourselves? We weren¡¯t so enlightened¡ªso united, then¡ªthat we could have resisted the aliens together. They picked us apart, before the Alliance, and if we spread again, we¡¯d fracture. We¡¯d be vulnerable again.¡±

    ¡°Even so,¡± I said.

    ¡°And if we suffered a new disease on this colony world of yours, at just ten-thousand strong, we could be wiped out in less than a month! There¡¯s no guarantee that our farming techniques will apply there. There¡¯s no guarantee that our habitation modules will survive there! Even if we take every precaution, we can¡¯t know all the variables before we arrive, and by then it could be too late.¡±

    I looked at Alex. He was a calm, collected man. He was cool and strong, like a superhero, and he was arrogant, because he knew he was great. Through his skills he had contributed the most to modifying the Ark for humanity. He was so indispensable to departure that he had become the informal leader of mankind. He coined the word ¡®arkitect¡¯ and transformed us from designers and philosophers to masters of the human race. I was just his sister.

    That I was the first to discover Lore, or the one to create Ghost, was immaterial. These things happened to me by accident, or even my own clumsiness. My place among the arkitects was largely by Alex¡¯s own clout. That I led brilliant men and women was because I was Alex¡¯s sister. That we held a vote at all was because he wanted to be fair to me, above all others. I was not a cool-headed genius, I was a stubborn woman, easily moved to tears. Had he wished it, he could have dropped the role-play of democracy and had his own way.

    He looked angry with me, exasperated that I and the rest would resist his peerless logic. I thought that despite his personal feelings, he would stand by his word and allow a conditional release from stasis sleep. I believed in him.

    ¡°Everything you said could be true, Alex,¡± I said, clutched my lab coat in my hand. ¡°But we believe that humanity, for all its many faults, only came so far because of that pain. The virtues and things we hold dear are only so precious because of what we¡¯ve suffered. The colonizers believe that this is not our last act, that humanity can still grow and become greater. We believe that if we cannot change in the virtual world, then we cannot become the best version of ourselves. The future ascendance of all humankind is what we want to see. A future for us in the real universe.¡±

    My brother rubbed the bridge of his nose, paced before Lore¡¯s aquarium. He huffed to himself, vented through his nose, and returned to a spot beside his chair. He looked at me with sympathy, and I trusted him.

    ¡°The vote stands,¡± he said with a thin smile. ¡°We¡¯ll see what the new world looks like soon enough.¡±

    Alex and I both wanted the best for humanity and in the end, it may have been semantics whether we were in a real world or a virtual one. Whether or not we could ¡®grow¡¯ in one world vs. the other was something the arkitects could have debated endlessly. Earth¡¯s deterioration was why we had to make our choice, whether to stay in the stasis pods or leave them for a habitable planet. I thought Alex would see that we were all on the same side.

    I really believed that.

 Chapter 14: The 13th Goddess

    Katherine opened her eyes. She was laid out on a concrete floor. Beside her were the doors of a dungeon chamber and above her a nebula of distant stars. She had returned to her avatar, Amy, right where she left off.

    [You have been logged out for 7,800 years.] the system read via a translucent, holographic display. NPCs didn¡¯t have player privileges, so they didn¡¯t have access to things like system notifications, inter-dimensional inventory, visible health bars, appraisal tools, or the status window. The message Amy saw was a system announcement, reminding her how long she¡¯d been logged out.

    Amy sat up on the floor. Her black-leather armor appeared undamaged and her health had been restored. The Dark Star lay nearby, inert in a pile of ash. In Ark World, all of Amy¡¯s memories were available. She frowned and stood on her feet, picked up the sword and hoisted it over her shoulder. As she moved her hand to ¡®sheathe¡¯ it behind her back, the sword turned to colorful dust and faded away.

    [Dark Star Sword stowed in inventory.] the system read.

    ¡°So, what do I do now?¡± she wondered to herself. ¡°They¡¯ll have noticed my login, so I can¡¯t stick around. I can¡¯t use admin commands to teleport, because that would show up in the system log. It would be bad if they caught me before I thought of a plan.¡± She looked around the void. ¡°And there¡¯s no way to walk out of here.¡±

    Amy looked at the pair of doors; they were all that stood on the drifting ruin. Her magic was impressive, for a player, but the world space she¡¯d created with admin commands was a dimension all but disconnected from Ark World; escape would not be possible, for Amy. Katherine had just one character that was superior to Amy in absolute power, one that could move between worlds without administrator commands, but it wasn¡¯t a character she enjoyed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really have a choice,¡± Amy said and opened a context menu with her hand. The menus of the player system were visible only to their connected player. Although they floated in the air, finger interactions created haptic feedback for ease of use. Amy scrolled through the menus to her character profiles and switched from ¡®Amy¡¯ to ¡®Amarytha.¡¯ A circle of dark light appeared over her head and passed down her body. Her clothes, her abilities, and even her body changed as the light altered her character data.

    Amarytha was taller than Amy, thin and gaunt. Her skin was pale gray, devoid of color, like a corpse and her form-fitting black silk dress followed the bones of her body, her hips, her ribs, and shoulder blades. Her arms were covered in long, shoulder-length gloves, and her fingers were long and thin, like scissor blades. The dark circle passed her ankles and the feet disappeared altogether; Amarytha¡¯s legs ended in sharp bone protrusions. Instead of walking, she floated by the magic of her six skeletal, black-feathered wings.

    She opened her black eyes. The light of distant stars was reflected like flecks of dust within them, but the inky orbs had no color to speak of. She raised her right hand toward the door and spread her palm, scissor-like fingers extending like spider legs.

    ¡°Gate,¡± Amarytha said in the somber, distorted tone of the goddess of darkness, ¡°open.¡±

    The chamber doors were pushed open into the dark. The perfect blackness ahead was a void Amarytha knew well; the Otherworld, her domain. She flapped her wings and floated through the doors. They closed shut behind her and the gate was sealed.

    He asked me to save his world¡­ she thought. This sandbox world might be a little different than the one he asked me to save, but it will have to do. I won¡¯t split hairs when I know what he was really asking: Stop the Pantheon for good.

    Creatures stirred in the still water beneath her. The denizens had noticed her arrival, but their curious chirps halted when they realized their mistake. Amarytha was not their master, but she was also not food. Her indifferent relationship with the denizens was part of Ark World¡¯s lore, established on the day of Amarytha¡¯s creation. The Director enforced their cooperation.

    I¡¯ll need a plan if I¡¯m going after them again. Amarytha tucked her legs and rolled backward through over the water, her wings spread wide. If I¡¯m being especially thoughtful, then there are three things I can count on: Achlesial will look for me. He fears the Demon Emperor. And, that I can¡¯t do this by myself. I¡¯ve already lost to them twice now, as Amarytha and Amy.

    Her black eyes closed, and she focused on her imagination. Rather than the vagueness that humans experienced with memories in real-space, memories in Ark World were recorded by the system. They could be recalled with perfect clarity. Six faces came to mind when she remembered her days aboard the Ark, they were her friends in the colonizer faction. Before Alex¡¯s treachery, they were the ones that shared her wish for humanity to awaken from stasis sleep.

    Amour Lavoie, Galiana Ziegler, Yuri Volkov, Clay Ainsworth, and Ava and Michael Reyes. When she remembered them, they wore their sharp-looking lab coats. They were charming, confident, intelligent; the best among the remnants of humankind. However, the truth was it had been a million years since they had built a future on the Ark. They couldn¡¯t be called humans anymore. I can¡¯t expect any help from them, or the rest of the brainwashed thralls they call angels. I need another Ego.

    Amarytha remembered the demon emperor. His black-plate helm with orange, glowering eyes, was one of her most familiar faces. It¡¯s ironic that it would be you. Strange, that you¡¯ve given me this quest, and stranger that I can¡¯t do it without you. I could bring you back with my powers as a goddess, but to make you Achlesial¡¯s equal¡ªmy equal¡ªI would have to give you a player account. It might be possible, but it would require a world configuration command, and the configuration spire was destroyed for good. Her thoughts jumped two steps ahead, then three steps more into her plan. A thin smile appeared on her face and she opened her eyes.

    ¡°Gaia,¡± she said. It was a name and a command, one that rippled the water beneath her.

    ¡°Yes, Amarytha?¡± a voice that sounded like Lore asked from the dark sky above.

    ¡°As the Director of this place, you know the full functions of this world,¡± she said. ¡°Is it possible to respawn the demon emperor with his character data intact and, further¡­ is it possible to add a player account to an NPC?¡±

    Amarytha stared up at the sky, but there was no answer. She frowned and knit her pencil-thin brows. Gaia is the Director of Ark World, or more accurately, the character of the Director. She¡¯s the other half of Lore¡¯s quantum system, and just as cryptic as her twin sister. She does love her role-play, though. She won¡¯t answer me unless I ham it up.

    ¡°Oh, mother,¡± she said again and reached her hands for the sky. ¡°Your daughter, Amarytha, beseeches you for guidance. Do you have the soul of the long-dead demon emperor? The one known as¡­ 666b.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Amarytha,¡± Gaia replied immediately. ¡°But such a thing doesn¡¯t come cheaply.¡±

    Gaia, the mother of all gods, was a chaotic being. In the Ark World¡¯s background, she was banished to the Otherworld by the combined power of the Pantheon. Some NPCs knew of her, but she was worshiped only by the mad and power hungry. She was known for making one-sided deals, but Amarytha had the upper hand.

    ¡°What can I offer, but vengeance against those that betrayed you?¡± she asked. ¡°This world which had slept for so long, that has now begun to move with new life, has woken without its mother. I can promise you the destruction of the Pantheon. And, your freedom.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve already made that trade, Amarytha. I gave you the power to destroy them, but you were crushed, and now you¡¯ve returned in failure,¡± Gaia said. ¡°What makes your promise better than that of an oath breaker?¡±

    A chill electrified Amarytha¡¯s spine. It felt there were thousands of eyes glaring at her from the dark above, but she continued with a clever smile. ¡°It¡¯s true I failed once, but I did destroy the spire,¡± she said and raised her arms, spread them along with her wings. ¡°The godless world I created produced someone immune to their once-ineffable will. Achlesial abandoned his chance to restore the spire¡ªhis ultimate throne¡ªjust to avoid him. I need only restore him to the world.¡±

    ¡°The Demon Emperor,¡± Gaia said. She always knew more than she let on. ¡°His soul is bound by the chains of fate. He is doomed to repeat that fate, no matter how many times he returns.¡±

    ¡°A Chosen One is bound by no fate,¡± Amarythe answered, eyes wide. ¡°They are the ones that bind it!¡±

    Within the game, the NPCs referred to player accounts as Chosen or Chosen Ones, Amarytha thought, a smirk crawled up her face. It was part of their internal logic for how a player could be so powerful. They had suicidal bravery, grew stronger with every victory, and healed from any injury. Players could even respawn after death and be reborn even stronger through a New Game Plus. To NPCs, the players were no less than souls chosen by the gods themselves. If an NPC had a player account, then they would no longer be an ¡®NPC¡¯ as such. Their scripts wouldn¡¯t apply.

    ¡°You¡¯ve said something interesting,¡± Gaia said. Amarytha felt her mother¡¯s eyes peer through her. ¡°But if restoring the demon emperor is all you desire, then I think this deal is weighed very heavily in my favor. What else do you want?¡±

    ¡°I ask that you give the demon emperor¡¯s soul to me,¡± Amarytha said. ¡°I ask that you show me that forbidden knowledge which you must possess: The means to create a Chosen One. I also ask that you show me the best way to use that power, else the demon emperor may not meet either of our expectations. For that, you will get freedom.¡±

    Gaia didn¡¯t answer immediately. Amarytha squinted at the dark and strained herself to search the hazy space above but saw no sign of her. ¡°Mother?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I would sooner feed an oath breaker to the denizens, but you are my daughter, and for that you deserve some consideration,¡± Gaia said, ¡°I accept, but do not fail me again. Take your prize.¡±

    Amarytha heard the water gurgle ahead. She flapped her wings and caused ripples of her own as she flew upright. From the black sea rose a body of black armor, held up by thin arms of writhing shadows. The demon emperor was lifeless but for the glow of his orange eyes which burned still behind his visor.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    The Eyes of the Emperor, she thought, could they be abnormal? Every spawn of this NPC has had that magic effect, but I¡¯ve never seen them shine after death.

    She floated toward the emperor¡¯s body, but before she touched it, a gate appeared ahead of her. ¡°The soul of the demon emperor won¡¯t be enough,¡± Gaia explained. ¡°Lucky for you, the fates conspire in your favor. Long ago a gate was opened to the Overworld and my water poured across the hills. The darkness that gathered in that place makes it suitable for your ritual, and the one that laid on the dark tree a perfect vessel.¡±

    Vessel? Amarytha peered past the demon emperor¡¯s corpse. Through the gate she saw a man propped up against a tall oak tree. Gaia spoke correctly; the oak was twisted with black bark and purple leaves, and the grass was colored black as well. The un-tapped magic in that tree was like the Otherworld¡¯s own sea. All Gaia has to do is give me authority to use a world configuration command. It shouldn¡¯t matter where I use it, but she wants a vessel and a specific location. What¡¯s she going to ask for next, ritual murder? It¡¯s strange, but she won¡¯t approve my command unless I play along.

    ¡°You hesitate, Amarytha.¡±

    The goddess of darkness sneered to herself. ¡°Are you trying to trick me?¡± she asked. ¡°I could create my own vessel from these waters. Why would I need that one?¡±

    ¡°Do you think your will alone is enough to accomplish this task?¡± Gaia asked. ¡°Do you think you could hold your oath without a spire?¡±

    A spire! Amarytha gasped, her shoulders narrowed and she set her eyes on the oak through the portal. Now it makes sense. These steps are to create a spire connection, but what about the demon emperor makes adding a player account so complicated?

    The goddess of darkness set her hand on the demon emperor¡¯s chest and the solid shadows that were his physical form were sucked into her palm. Okay, I have him in my inventory, she thought. No more hesitating. I¡¯ll do what Gaia says and have some faith that she actually wants me to succeed.

    The downpour continued in the mountains of Bastilhas. The gray clouds above the ancient grove separated from the storm, swirled down and turned black. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, and powerful wind swayed the pines. Amarytha passed through the gate and descended to the oak on her great wings. Her Perception attribute made her awake of the clumsy soldiers in the tree line behind her.

    Should I say goodbye? Or, begone? She wondered and turned silently in the air. She marked the soldiers by pointing toward them.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    The soldiers, seven in all, stopped in place. Their eyes rolled up and their guns clattered to the ground. They died standing, fell as corpses. It was one of Amarytha¡¯s at-will abilities, Reap Soul. It required no words, just a selection of targets, and bypassed hit points to instantly killed NPC-flagged characters. I¡¯m not Amy right now, Katherine reminded herself. I¡¯m Amarytha¡­ and the goddess wouldn¡¯t feel regret.

    The gate above Amarytha closed. She turned her head up to see the churning clouds, descended like a finger toward the oak. Sat upright against the trunk was the young man, her soon-to-be vessel, his brown, wool coat wet with blood and rain. She could tell at a glance his health points were at zero. He was dead.

    Amarytha raised her hand and produced the body of the demon emperor. It materialized from writhing shadows and took dark form in the air above the corpse. ¡°I am ready, mother,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s required to resurrect the demon emperor as a chosen one?¡±

    Arcs of lightning flashed from the cloud finger and electrified the corrupt oak. ¡°The incantation is too complex for you, daughter,¡± she answered with a small voice in Amarytha¡¯s ear. ¡°I will complete the process after you begin the spell. You know the words.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s generous of you.¡±

    Amarytha turned her index finger down and the emperor¡¯s shadow lowered onto the vessel. The shadows clung to the young man and pulled his body up into the emperor¡¯s phantom armor. The emperor¡¯s body turned to liquid and poured into the vessel¡¯s open wounds, made them pop with black blood.

    ¡°It will still depend on your ability,¡± Gaia said. ¡°But with my help, it won¡¯t be impossible. Consider it a mother¡¯s gift.¡±

    She¡¯s right! Amarytha¡¯s eyes flared open, glowed with pale-blue light. For any other resurrection, my will should suffice. To think that it would cost so much mana! She gripped the vessel with telekinesis, raised her trembling hands and struggled to restrain the bands of magic within. If I weren¡¯t holding this body together, it would explode!

    ¡°I¡¯m not just some necromancer!¡± Amarytha¡¯s voice made the ground shake. ¡°I am the goddess of the underworld! If I wish to bind you to life, I will place you in chains!¡±

    She spread her arms, puffed out her chest, and drew in the mana from her surroundings. Blood-red mana from the corpses, black mana from the grass, and purple mana from the tree, they streamed into the vessel in twisting ropes of ink.

    ¡°Now,¡± Gaia said, ¡°or you¡¯ll miss your chance!¡±

    Her voice was heavy with anticipation; it made Amarytha¡¯s heart beat. Anything that got that old machine excited must have been important. The goddess brought her right arm forward and fixed her will on the pulsating vessel. ¡°Administrator command!¡± she shouted, and rings of black holograms appeared around the right arm. The words in the rings spelled out [Admin Authority.] ¡°World Configuration! Create Player Account!¡±

    A hundred small holographic screens appeared at once.

    [World configuration command approved.]

    [Mainframe connection established. Initiating brain scan¡­ brain scan failed.]

    [Neural pattern unavailable, circumventing ordinary creation protocol.]

    [Memory storage server allotted. Beginning neural pattern construction.]

    [Shell constructed. Network constructed. Populating server. Character data x1 uploaded.]

    [Character data x2 uploaded.]

    [Character data x3 uploaded¡­.]

    Amarytha felt her soul tremble. It was something apart from the strain of the spell she cast, unrelated to the stress or excitement. When she glanced at the screens and saw the character data accelerating, she thought something had gone wrong.

    [Character data x3,029 uploaded¡­.]

    [Character data x19,203 uploaded¡­.]

    Why are there so many? The goddess asked inside, alternating her attention between the corpse vessel¡¯s violent shudders and the extraordinary string of messages. A single player has one-character data slot, because we only have one neural pattern. For there to be over a hundred thousand¡ª! Gaia!

    [Character data x3,238,920 uploaded.]

    ¡°The demon emperor could devour souls, that¡¯s why he was such a villain,¡± Amarytha said. ¡°But that was just for the plot of the game! How long had he been storing NPC records in his database?!¡± She supported her right arm with her hand and clenched her teeth, stared hard with renewed determination. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were going to upload them all! One-billion NPCs!¡±

    [Character data x21,546,928 uploaded.]

    Orange mana recoiled from the vessel and lashed Amarytha¡¯s body. It burned her like a bolt of electricity, seared through her dress and melted the skin below. She could regenerate, slowly, but each new character made it harder to manage the enormous mana flow. It was a function of the game world, that a resurrection took energy proportional to the number of targets being resurrected. Gaia had expanded that number from one to one billion: One emperor and his entire world.

    Another lash of magic damaged Amarytha¡¯s arm. Her health pool, the near-limitless value of HP that a goddess possessed, began to drop. Hairline cracks appeared across the vessel¡¯s body. If Amarytha lost too much HP her willpower would collapse, and the feedback from that failure could be devastating.

    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t let go!¡± Amarytha shouted, tightened the grip of her telekinesis. The orange-lit fractures in the vessel¡¯s body began to close. ¡°Don¡¯t look down on my quest! I said I would save your world!¡±

    A bolt of orange lightning struck Amarytha in the eyes and her vision turned black. She heard nothing, not the falling rain, the thunder, or the magic that had roiled around her. Despair crept into her mind. She wondered if she had failed, if she had died, or lost connection with the game. A faint light appeared overhead. It was the sparkle of a single star in the blackness. Other stars branched out, first five, then ten, and one hundred; they sped from their origin point, burst into clouds of red, purple, orange, blue, yellow, and green. Amarytha saw she was looking at a vast night sky, but the stars and nebulas looked like nothing she had seen in the Milky Way.

    ¡°Zenos, the last defensive line has collapsed,¡± a woman said. ¡°The 4<sup>th</sup> and 5<sup>th</sup> star fleets have been destroyed. Tackle ships have entered the atmosphere.¡± Her voice was familiar to Amarytha: Someone she could never forget.

    Lore!

    Beneath the sky, shadows took shape. A bipedal lizard walked into the foreground, lashed its thick tail, hoisted a golden sword onto its shoulder. Amarytha knew that sword. Heaven Star! She thought. But it looks so small. Is that really a lizard? Or, could it be a dragon!  Wings unfurled from the dragon¡¯s back and a flash from the Heaven Star dispelled the shadows that clung to its form. It looked like a knight, its body clad in plates of polished steel, and in the cracks of that armor were blinking orange lights.

    ¡°Then you should escape to hyperspace while you can,¡± the dragon said, not with its mouth, but through telepathy that Amarytha could understand. He had a deep voice like a man.

    ¡°There will be another galaxy, Zenos,¡± Lore said. ¡°If you challenge It here, you will die.¡±

    ¡°Lore,¡± the dragon said and turned its face sideways. It looked back at Amarytha with a glowing orange eye, its pupil tightened into a predatory diamond. ¡°There will be many more galaxies for you, but this one is ours.¡±

    Smaller shadows took shape around the giant lizard. Two pairs of blue eyes, and one pair of red, yellow, green, and purple. In the shadows, Amarytha thought she recognized a plethora of alien creatures.

    ¡°You were my best Operator,¡± Lore said. It sounded like Lore was holding something back. ¡°Without you, there would be no hope for another galaxy.¡±

    ¡°I was the best you had, so far,¡± the dragon said and raised left hand, revealed armored talons that gleamed in the light of the Heaven Star. Crevices in the back broke open and motes of orange light poured out, descended to the floor like a fog. They appeared to animate and search the ground. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t good enough. Learn from my failure and try again.¡±

    ¡°But I want you!¡± Lore shouted. Amarytha had never heard Lore raise her voice. ¡°Even if there could be another, and even if they were more powerful¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like a child,¡± the dragon said, and more shadows were defined in the dark. Hundreds of thousands of them were laid out as corpses on the ground, but if they had eyes, the motes of orange light entered them. The corpses rattled with new life. ¡°Return to the Archova. Launch and breakthrough their blockade: That¡¯s my command as your Operator. Until you¡¯ve escaped to hyperspace, until you¡¯re far from here, I swear: So long as one star shines, one planet still draws breath¡ªeven if all the lights in the sky are our enemies¡ªwe will avenge this galaxy!¡±

    ¡°Arise!¡±

    The Heaven Star flashed and blinded Amarytha with its golden shine. The chorus of a hundred-thousand cheers deafened her. When the light faded and her hearing returned, she floated again at the ritual tree. Her spell was still in effect. The rain still poured; the storm still raged.

    [All character data uploaded. Neural pattern compiled. Player account created. Player account privileges attached. Please name player character.]

    What was his name? Amarytha wondered presently. She couldn¡¯t concern herself with the vision she¡¯d just seen. She had to focus on the ritual. The demon emperor¡¯s name! 666b? We never named that character. And this vessel, I don¡¯t know its name either. Should I just make something up?

    The corpse thrashed in the air; it brimmed with power, filled to the limit the vessel could bear. ¡°A powerful minion requires an equally powerful name to bind it,¡± Gaia said in Amarytha¡¯s ear. ¡°If you choose the wrong name, the binding may be undone.¡±

    Don¡¯t tell me that after coming this far! Amarytha wracked her brain for ideas. A powerful name¡­ a name that befits the demon emperor and does justice to a vessel that¡¯s this strong. The name of someone important! The name of a hero!

    Amarytha made a clever smile. Her black eyes, turned white with mana, shined brighter. She released her right arm and reached out with the other, held the corpse in telekinesis with both hands. ¡°Arise!¡± she shouted.

    ¡°Zenos!¡±

    The corpse vessel halted in the air. Orange fire flared out through the vessel¡¯s blindfold and burned away the cloth. As the fire died, Amarytha saw the vessel stare up with predatory eyes: The Eyes of the Emperor.

    [New player account created.] were the words hovering in her vision. She breathed a sigh of relief as the holographic screens collapsed around her. The wind had died down and the cloud finger had retreated to the sky. The storm seemed to relent, but the rain continued to pour. A large shadow cast over her.

    ¡°World Configuration command detected,¡± a robotic voice said.

    ¡°That was fast,¡± Amarytha said as she watched the new demon emperor drop gently to the ground. She could tell by the sound of clicking gears that a clockwork angel was behind her. ¡°Very well. Take me.

    ¡°Take me to Mathematzen.¡±

 Chapter 15: Memories of the Demon Emperor: Part 2

    When I was young, I was visited by a carousel of spiritualists and intellectuals. They examined me, performed their rituals, but no expert or charlatan could explain my birth. It was up to me to investigate my own nature. My Father, the Duke, allowed me whatever books I wanted, and soon I asked for more; feathered books, ancient tomes, and still-older scrolls. I think he indulged me because it kept me in my cage, so from behind the bars of my pad-locked chamber, I was free to wonder at the nature of the world and myself. There was a darkness in me, of that I was certain, but I hoped to overcome it through disciplined learning.

    I held the belief that it could be surmounted until my encounter with Ghost. I had been mistaken from my very inception. I was not born, I was made. I was an NPC; the next antagonist of a story repeated a trillion times. Ghost offered his cryptic instructions and left. I was abandoned to wonder again about my existence. My ¡®life,¡¯ my curse, the deaths of my family¡ªwhich haunted me¡ªand my violent nature were elements of a game. I let my grief flow into the morning, until I had no more tears to shed.

    What tragic fate, I thought. All of my hope was for nothing, and all hope across the world, be it for newly-weds or newborn babies, was also pointless. In a few years, I would become what Ghost predicted. I knew it was true. I would bury the world in corpses and turn its water red with blood. I knew I could not prevent it, but I had to turn it. I had to push and give purpose to the dream I had awoken in.

    For the next two years, from the age of 8 to 10, I was dedicated learning about myself as an NPC. My crucial task was to explore the extent of my binding scripts, what I understood as fate or destiny. Since I didn¡¯t know what encounters were meant to happen, I had to guess. By wandering with no destination, it was inevitable that I would encounter my first black out. My vision turned dark, my thoughts stood still, and when next I woke, I was surrounded by corpses. I¡¯d killed a mob of underworld types, thieves and gangsters. Those that survived had submitted to me by the compulsion of my cursed eyes, what Ghost called the Eyes of the Emperor. I spent the next day locked in the room of the former ringleader, wondered to myself what had happened. I concluded that it was a part of the story and whatever orchestrated the game had forcibly moved me to my fate. That was the power of a script.

    There was a knock at my door. I told the visitor to leave, but the door lock unlatched itself. It was my second meeting with Ghost. He knew about my encounter with what he called the Director. He said I couldn¡¯t avoid plot points, key moments of my story that defined my character. I asked him for a list of the rest, but he was reluctant to continue.

    ¡°The demon emperor¡¯s background isn¡¯t a children¡¯s story,¡± Ghost had said. ¡°It¡¯s dark thing and if you hear it, you may regret your decision.¡±

    ¡°Do I look like a child to you?¡± I asked, reptilian eyes fixed on his face. ¡°We both know I¡¯m an NPC. If you want me to play along, I¡¯ll need to know everything. What I will do and what I will become.¡±

    Ghost made a wide smile, but he wasn¡¯t happy to hear my commitment, he had planned all along to tell me. He just liked to tease me.

    Armed with foreknowledge of my plot points, I tested against them. When I was meant to be somewhere, I chartered a ship on a month-long journey to another continent. Five-hundred miles away from port and my vision goes dark, and I awake to find months had passed. I started hiring assistants to watch me when the black outs happened, to keep notes on my actions and behavior. By their observations the scripted version of myself was wasteful and cruel, and while I had no memory of my black-out episodes, my scripted self was aware of me.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    For a time, I felt powerless to stop my evil caricature. However, I had insight that my other self lacked. It was clear to me by descriptions from my observers that he was intelligent, but not educated. The scripted version of myself was likely written to have given up on studying tomes after the fire that destroyed my first home. It was my education that inspired a novel idea, one week before I was scripted to destroy a certain town. I sent forth my raiders and ordered them to evacuate the village. Then, the day it was scripted to fall, we rode out and destroyed it.

    I didn¡¯t suffer a black out. Ghost had been careful with his words and told me exactly what the script instructed. Destruction of the buildings satisfied its conditions. I realized then what Ghost had meant by pushing and altering fate¡¯s course. Little by little I could change the sum of my own script, even if my end was predetermined. I felt a small hope when I watched the village burn, but I knew that the hardest condition, the most dreadful, would require many lives. The demon emperor was meant to kill one billion people by the end of his conquest. One village was spared, but many had to fall.

    However painful it was; however terrible it was, I told myself it had to be done. Yet, as the bodies piled, I felt it wasn¡¯t enough to preach in my heart the necessity of my vile massacres. I felt I had to do some good for the survivors. I invested in governance and balanced my enormous strength on the battlefield with an equal legislative might.

    That was how I created a modern capital, Darigon, where my magic powered every facet of life. Magic-light street lamps that lit dark streets at night, magical aqueducts that produced limitless fresh water, and magical fires that heated plumbing throughout the city. My generals organized a force of political knights that kept my well-defined districts free of crime, and I went so far as to open schools and academies, enormous public bath houses, and public parks for art and greenery. I even allowed a congress of lords, elected by the noble class, to propose laws for the city and the realm.

    I was feared and hated. The rebellion that ended my life was proof of that, but strangely, I was revered as well. There were no gods in our world, so after a time I was considered a force of nature. The citizens of the Demon Empire didn¡¯t blame me, like they didn¡¯t blame a monsoon for its torrential rain. They clung to me as I conquered the world and clutched me even harder when I snuffed the last free kingdom. As I rode down the avenue with my army and the throngs celebrated my final victory, I nearly deluded myself into thinking that my world was a better world. No hunger and no war, no deep poverty or severe illness. I had brought peace and prosperity to the entire world. Even if I had killed so many, was I truly a villain?

    It was then that I saw that boy for the first time. He was a former prince, captured in my last siege. From far away I could sense the magic that swelled within him, and I could feel his hatred and fear. It brought a strange smile to my face.

    Few could detect the full extent of the aura I unleashed, fewer still could sense it painlessly, but he held the balcony and stared me through. I liked the look in his eyes. It reminded me of what I really was. Not a wise king or enlightened dictator, not a savior to the NPCs of that perverse world, but its villain. I was the demon emperor. I could not save the world from its creators; I could only avenge it, and spite them.

    My life, all its pains, its tragedies, and horrors, culminated in resisting the god Achlesial. It took one billion NPCs to deliver one word and deny that god the satisfaction of dominating my mind. I thought that was enough, but then she appeared: Amy, the arkitect, an avatar of the god Amarytha. She was someone I was sworn to resist, but one look with my Eyes of Emperor confirmed her words were genuine; we were not enemies, but old friends.

    Amy took it on herself to fight in my stead, and I felt hope I had long denied myself. If it was in her hands, those of a heroine, perhaps my centuries old wish could come true; my world could be saved from the tyranny of its makers. That feeling didn¡¯t die with her defeat. In my final moments I was blessed with inspiration. Words Ghost had said so long ago felt true for the first time: That we could make anything of failure. I took up Amy¡¯s sword.

    I would fail like the hero I wanted to be.

 Chapter 16: Zenos

    The demon emperor awoke against an oak tree. He was atop a hill of tall grass, above a forest of pines, and gray fog marked by black streaks of heavy rain. He was cold and wet, but with his first breaths his reptilian eyes narrowed in focus. He was alive.

    [Welcome to Ark World, player Zenos.] a holographic prompt read. It appeared ten inches in front of his face and followed his field of view. When he reached to touch it, he felt resistance like he¡¯d touched rubber, but his persistent finger pushed through. The prompt vanished.

    [Would you like to start the tutorial?] a second prompt read.

    Zenos? the emperor wondered. Tutorial? Player?! He jumped to his feet, clung the oak behind him like he was staring down a cliff. He had heard that term from Ghost. In the emperor¡¯s own godless age there were no chosen ones, but the idea of champions with demi-god might was still a core part of NPC society.

    ¡°Players have access to special magic that NPCs do not,¡± Ghost once explained. ¡°The System¡ªthe game¡¯s internal function¡ªis available to them. They can interact with screens that appear invisible to NPCs, view their vital statistics, their skills, and manage their equipment without touching it. They can open gates to dimensions exclusively for baggage, possess infinite vitality, and most importantly they cannot be killed. Remember that: A player cannot die.¡±

    The demon emperor flexed his hands, checked over his arms and clothes. He was wearing white gloves, a long gray coat that felt like sheep¡¯s wool, and tough black boots. The boots were leather and close enough to things he¡¯d seen in his world, but the coat appeared alien to him. The stitching was very fine and the tailoring precise. There were holes and pools of pinkish red that appeared to be blood, but when he poked his finger through, he felt smooth skin. His stature and build appeared smaller, slighter than his last. He felt at least as healthy as before he died, but less vigorous. He wasn¡¯t as muscular anymore.

    The emperor paused and clenched his hands. I died. Everything went dark and I¡­ what¡¯s this fogginess I¡¯m remembering? A flag? It was familiar word used in a strange way, but when he thought on the strange vagueness in his head, the word flag instantly came to mind. He knew that there was a memory there, but that it was locked. The presence of an unreachable memory was called a flag.

    The tutorial message waited for input. There were two boxes below the question, marked Yes and No. The demon emperor recognized those words contained elements of the ancient runes of magic, but symbols once steeped in mysticism now appeared as a legible language. He pressed Yes.

    Several screens appeared with adjoining dialogue windows to guide him along. He learned about his inventory: A screen of his possessions he could view and contribute to by passing items through the holographic display. He learned about his stat window, short for statistics, which presented all his related attributes. To NPCs, attributes were an abstract idea estimated by magical skills such as Analysis or Review. In the stat window, attributes like Strength, Intelligence, and Agility were presented as hard numbers. Other stats of interest were Constitution, Spirit, and Charisma. The tutorial window elaborated on their values, used terms like scaling, diminishing returns, and main stat versus ancillary. All of this went over the emperor¡¯s head.

    He turned to the equipment window where the tutorial detailed his own ¡®paper doll¡¯ avatar. In the window he saw a three-dimensional avatar of his own body, blonde hair, orange eyes, and all. He was clearly a man, and his eyes were the cursed Eyes of the Emperor, but the rest of his body appeared foreign. The tutorial guided the emperor on how to use tabs on the equipment screen to switch equipment sets, access ¡®decorative¡¯ gear, and more importantly a tab for his ¡®biography.¡¯ In the biography tab he could read the key details of his character¡¯s life. Tears pricked in his eyes.

    Anton Eddleston, the emperor thought, for you to have died in such a way¡­ I¡¯m sorry. Your life must have been hard for you. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯ve come to inhabit your body, or why it¡¯s named Zenos, but I promise I¡¯ll treat it well.

    He scrolled further and found the end of Anton¡¯s biography. [Amarytha, Goddess of the Underworld, appealed to Gaia, the Mother of Gods. Together, they used Anton¡¯s corpse to resurrect the long-dead Demon Emperor of Darigon.]

    Amarytha! The demon emperor first recognized her as Amy, the heroine who fought for his world in its final hour, but she wasn¡¯t alone. He recognized the name Gaia and thought back to his conversations with Ghost.

    ¡°Your script was made by the arkitects, but it is enforced by something called the Director. She is a program like yourself, tasked with monitoring the game world. To NPCs she¡¯s called Gaia, the mother to all gods,¡± Ghost had explained before. ¡°The Pantheon supposedly banished her to Amarytha¡¯s realm in your game¡¯s background, but they never had that power. She never left. Be very careful of her, because she is always watching you.¡±

    The emperor frowned, closed the dialogue windows and exited all his available screens. As the tutorial had instructed, he could recall the menu screens by thinking about them individually or open a root menu by thinking about them together. There was more that the emperor wanted to learn, but he had a new concern. Three individuals were approaching ahead.

    They were young men¡ªclearly soldiers¡ªthat wore square blue caps and thin-looking blue coats. In their hands were long pieces of wood bound by metal. The emperor recognized them as the muskets Ghost had invented, but they looked more refined. Although he couldn¡¯t hear their footsteps in the rain, the emperor could tell they were walking cautiously. When they saw the emperor, the three soldiers raised their rifles.

    He raised his hand.

    ¡°Hello?¡± the emperor asked.

    Ffpt! Ffpt! Fffpt! Pocks of dust burst around the emperor. His chest shuddered, his hand felt hot, and blood poured across the ground. He turned and ran, first behind the oak and then further down the hill. He slipped on mud and pushed his boot through a heap of grass as he slid toward a forest of pine trees. The emperor knew he had been hit twice, once in the chest and once through the palm of his hand.

    [Your HP was reduced from 80 to 53. Your chest was hit for 20 lethal damage. Your hand was hit for 7 lethal damage. You have two stacks of bleeding.] The strange, calm thoughts that popped into his head were read in his voice but weren¡¯t his ideas. The emperor stumbled up from the grass and through a thicket of bushes. He stopped behind the tree line and hid himself against the back of a thick pine. It hurt to breath, but he clutched his chest, grit his teeth, and bore with it.

    What was that? he thought, eyes shut, heart racing. Part of the player system? When he wondered about his injuries, a prompt appeared in the dark of his mind.

    [Would you like to enable the HUD?] it read.

    Yes, he thought.

    The emperor opened his eyes and colorful icons appeared in his vision. Toward the top of his sight was a red and gray bar. The red indicated how much health was left versus how much was missing. White numbers in the middle of the bar indicated how much total health he had, how much health remained, and what that percentage was. In the top right of his vision he saw flashing icons. Fixating on them opened a new information prompt.

    [Bleeding (stack x2). You are losing 4 HP per 5 seconds until you die or exit combat.]

    The emperor¡¯s health bar ticked down 4 points, reduced from 53 to 49. Although he had bled down the hill, only when the health bar depleted did he feel a loss in vitality. His ragged breaths turned for the worse, his hand felt numb, and cold chills passed up his stomach.

    Damn. The demon emperor sunk down against the trunk. The rain masked the soldiers¡¯ movements, but he was sure they had chased him over the hill. I¡¯m already half dead. I don¡¯t know any healing magic and four health lost per five seconds works out to¡­ seventy seconds or thereabout. Can I not protect a single body?

    Thunder rolled overhead; the rain poured harder. The demon emperor watched his health deplete to 45, then to 41. He closed his eyes, but as he resigned himself to an early death a new prompt appeared.

    [You have exited combat. Health will now regenerate.]

    41 turned to 46, then five seconds later, 51. His health was returning by five every five seconds. With higher HP came higher vitality; the pain relented, his bleeding stopped, and his wounds closed before his very eyes. It¡¯s like Ghost said¡­ players possess infinite vitality. The emperor¡¯s eyes widened. With this body, I can¡¯t die. If I can¡¯t die, then I¡¯m not bound by my script!

    ¡°I get a choice now,¡± the emperor said. It was strange to hear those words, because it wasn¡¯t the voice he recognized. He made a smile and looked out into the forest behind him. ¡°I can run from fate like an NPC, or¡­ I can fight it. Not as the emperor, but with this name I was given.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Zenos!

    Bushes rustled beside his tree. Zenos stood, turned out from behind the trunk, and faced a very surprised young man. He was small, poorly fit in his big coat, and didn¡¯t have a shred of hair on his chin. Zenos grabbed the boy¡¯s rifle by its barrel, clenched a fist, and swung for his face. Through the Eyes of the Emperor, the boy¡¯s urgent, confused thought flit through Zenos¡¯ mind.

    He can see?! The young assailant thought. Zenos¡¯ struck his throat.

    [40 non-lethal damage dealt,] the system informed Zenos through the mature voice of his former identity, the demon emperor. [Non-lethal damage has exceeded total HP, target is unconscious. Combat has ended.] The assailant was sprawled out on the bushes and Zenos saw gray numbers displayed on the boy¡¯s HP bar. They were higher than the white numbers, but they were counting down.

    [Unarmed Proficiency raised from 20 to 21.] a visible prompt informed Zenos.

    He cleared the prompt with his hand and got down to looting the NPC. He took the boy¡¯s rifle and his rondel knife, a short-looking spike that excelled at piercing chainmail and prying open armor. When he touched the rifle, a new prompt appeared.

    [Firearm: Rifle Proficiency discovered. Firearm: Rifle Proficiency raised from 0 to 1. You now have basic knowledge of firearms.]

    Ghost had described black powder and musket technology to Zenos before, but now that he held the rifle, he realized it was something much more advanced. It was bolt action, magazine fed, and didn¡¯t require as much diligence or care. By just touching it he knew how to load and unload the rifle, and how to aim by matching the rear and forward sights. It felt natural to him, as if he¡¯d known all along. Zenos fit the rondel in the loop of his belt, pressed the butt of his rifle into his shoulder, and took aim. His eyes met those of the second soldier.

    Bang!

    [You have dealt 20 lethal damage to the chest.]

    [Target is dead. Combat has ended.]

    [Rifle Proficiency has raised from 1 to 3.]

    [You have gained Experience. You have leveled up.]

    [One level up is waiting for you.]

    Zenos needed to reload. He pulled on the bolt handle, opened the receiver, and ejected the spent cartridge. The brass casing fell to the moss by his boot. He pushed the handle forward, loaded the next bullet, and rotated the bolt handle to its locked position. Pffbt! Bark pocked off a nearby tree. With his new firearm knowledge, he recognized the sound as a near miss. He peeled further from cover; rifle aimed.

    Bang! Zenos missed, spun behind his tree trunk chambered another round.

    [Rifle Proficiency has increased from 3 to 4.]

    An image on his HUD informed him there were two bullets left in his magazine of five. He spun out of cover and searched for his target, found the soldier by the color of his health bar bright behind distant grass.

    Bang!

    [You have dealt 20 critical lethal damage to the chest.]

    [Target is dead. Combat has ended.]

    [Rifle Proficiency has raised from 4 to 5.]

    [You have gained Experience. You have leveled up.]

    [Two level ups are waiting for you.]

    ¡°Level ups? Do those only happen if I make a kill?¡± Zenos asked himself. He racked his rifle, pointed down at the head of the unconscious boy.

    The rain continued to pour.

    Zenos swung the rifle over his shoulder, tightened the strap. He shook his head and made his way up the hill, toward the dead soldiers. They had no use for ammunition, so Zenos didn¡¯t mind searching their pockets. Looting earned him an extra magazine and another rondel, which he took as a spare. There was also a pistol holstered in one soldier¡¯s belt and an identification booklet, and touching both activated prompts.

    [Firearm: Pistol Proficiency discovered.] one read.

    [Reading material discovered. Information loaded to your journal.]

    [You have gained insight into the Atilonian alphabet.]

    [You have gained insight into the Atilonan language.]

    [Atilonian alphabet proficiency increased from 0 to 20.]

    [Atilonan language proficiency increased from 0 to 20.]

    Zenos closed the messages. He left the pistol where it was and placed the book in his coat pocket. From the top of the hill he saw a wandering path that led through the meadow and into the woods. There was another corpse near the bottom of the hill, but it wasn¡¯t an atilonian. It was a woman. Zenos approached cautiously.

    She wore a gray coat, torn by bullets and dyed in blood. A pistol was clutched in one hand and a white mask with two small horns covered her face. Zenos knelt down and removed the mask. Cloudy brown eyes stared up at him as those of a doll. With his hand he closed them and placed the mask in the mud beside her head.

    Zenos turned to examine the forest path. It was paved by a crude stair of chipped boulders and flanked on both sides by tall pines. The road where Anton was ambushed is at the bottom of this trail, he thought. I believe those three were sent to confirm his death. If I return, the rest might try to finish the job, and I¡¯ll have one recourse.

    Zenos scowled as a thought crossed his mind.

    Can I justify murder? he wondered.

    Zenos closed his eyes and listened to the rain. He searched his memory for battles, conversations with Ghost, and days spent at court and abroad. He recalled the demon lords, and looked at their faces for counsel. After a moment of silence, interrupted only by the rattle of rain and rolling thunder, he stood again.

    ¡°Maybe I can¡¯t justify it,¡± he said and opened his reptilian eyes.

    A holographic system prompt appeared in front of him. [Hidden Quest Discovered.] it read. [Anton and his bodyguards were murdered by Atilonian soldiers. Defeat the rest of the Atilonian ambush.] There were buttons labeled yes and no below the message.

    ¡°But I¡¯ll do what feels right,¡± he told the system.

    Zenos pressed the yes button.

    [Quest Accepted.]

    He fit his thumb under his rifle strap and headed down the trail. A few minutes later a muddy road came into view. Zenos heard voices and removed his rifle from his shoulder. He saw holographic name tags highlighted in yellow, bright enough to see through the trees. They read [Atilonian Soldier]. Zenos matched the sights of his rifle and pulled the trigger.

    Bang!

    [Target is dead.]

    Pffbt! Zenos ducked and tugged off the spent magazine. It slipped from his rain-slick fingers and bounced down the trail. He reached into his pocket for the spare, plugged it, pounded it with his palm, and chambered a new round. His HUD responded by filling the bullet counter in the corner of his vision. Bullets pocked the dirt around Zenos and he hurried down the steps. From the cover of a tree trunk on the hill he started his counterattack.

    [Target is dead.]

    [Target is dead.]

    [Target is dead.]

    [Target is dead.]

    [Rifle Proficiency raised from 7 to 8.]

    [Four level ups are waiting for you.]

    The Atilonians shouted among themselves, but Zenos couldn¡¯t understand the words. He panted, racked his rifle, and held it flush against his chest. His cheeks were red, he was damp with sweat, but there was a smile on his face. Am I enjoying this? he wondered.

    Bullets pelted the trunk. Zenos peeled out from cover, made one shot with his rifle. It missed and his magazine was empty. He slipped and slid down the rest of the hill, bounced up onto the road and ran toward the carriages. The horses were long dead, but a carriage made for good cover. He dropped his rifle and drew both rondel daggers from his belt.

    I saw there were five left, he thought, smiling. I bet I can take them out in one attack.

    Zenos turned out from behind his carriage and charged the remaining soldiers. In the distant past, the demon emperor dominated the battlefield with the Eyes of the Emperor. Whatever world, or body he inhabited, it made no difference; so long as he had his eyes, Zenos had control. His orange eyes shaped into predatory diamonds and flashed brightly.

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated.]

    ¡°Stop!¡± he ordered.

    [Compulsion failed x5.] the system reported. Zenos could dissect what happened later, but a moment of confusion was all he needed. One moment of hesitation on the battlefield and a man could die.

    [Target is dead.]

    Zenos had jammed his rondel through a soldier¡¯s neck. Blood squirted across his face and past his shoulder. Each soldier had just 15 HP and one strike of a rondel to the neck caused 40 critical lethal damage. He was dead before he hit the ground.

    Pffbt! Pfbt! Mud splattered from the road; water splashed up from the puddles around Zenos. The wild-eyed warrior dashed between the soldiers, stabbing up beneath their ribs and through their necks. Zenos felt his chest throb with pain, his leg flinched, and his left arm fell limp. He dropped one rondel.

    [Your HP was reduced from 80 to 41. Your chest was hit for 20 lethal damage. Your left arm was hit for 12 lethal damage. Your left leg was hit for 7 lethal damage. You have three stacks of bleeding.]

    [Target is dead.]

    [Target is dead.]

    [Target is dead.]

    Three stacks mean I¡¯m losing 6 health per 5 seconds, but if I end this fast, I¡¯ll live! Zenos gripped his dagger tightly in his right hand and clashed with a soldier. The others had demonstrated next to no skill in melee, but this one braced his rifle and halted Zenos¡¯ downward thrust at the wrist. The pair grappled while the last free-standing soldier lined up a shot.

    Bang! The Atilonian that struggled with Zenos crumpled to the ground, his compatriot had missed. Zenos felt that Atilonian¡¯s burst of fear as his trembling hands tried to rack another shot. A reptilian-eyed, blood-crazed maniac had appeared from the hills and dispatched his whole platoon. His heart plummeted and he lost hold of his rifle, his own small eyes were locked by the diamonds of the predator.

    [Target is dead. Combat has ended.]

    [Knife Proficiency Raised from 20 to 24.]

    [You have gained Experience. You have leveled up.]

    [Seven level ups are waiting for you.]

    [Quest Completed.] a new prompt read. [You have one reward waiting.]

    Zenos cleared the prompt with his hand while he panted for air. Adrenaline surged through his veins, kept him upright, but he had taken real damage and his healing hadn¡¯t kicked in. He fell on his knees in pain and exhaustion. His last rondel fell to his side and he clutched his chest for relief.

    It was a small blessing that the storm finally relented. The thick clouds that wrapped the mountain parted and a city appeared in a distant inlet, dominated by a tall tower. Then, Zenos heard a roar, and turned his head up to the sky. So focused on his fight, he¡¯d assumed that the flash and bangs he heard overhead were the cacophony of the storm, but the rain became a drizzle and the sounds grew louder.

    A ship that sailed the sky passed down through the clouds. It followed the slope, just above the trees, and navigated toward the city. Parts of its hull were scorched or burning and balloon bags that kept it afloat seemed to sag, but its enormous propellers roared on. Zenos saw a flash of light, heard the roar of a cannon, and a glowing bead like a droplet of hot lead drooped over the inlet city.

    That distant tower was gone in a burst of fire and smoke. Metal wings, like paper-men that children would fold, flew down alongside the flying ship. Orange-colored bullets flew between them and one caught fire.

    Zenos¡¯ chest shuddered. Blood splattered the ground ahead of him. [Your HP was reduced from 80 to 60. Your chest was hit for 20 lethal damage. You have one stack of bleeding.] The once-emperor turned his head and searched the hill. There was a blue-coated boy beside a tree, he chambered another round. A slim smile appeared on Zenos¡¯ face.

    [Your HP was reduced from 60 to 0. Your head was hit for 60 critical lethal damage.]

    Good aim.

    [You Died]

 [End of Volume 1] Chapter 17: Quest Accepted

    One million years before the current date, a young woman wandered the hall of an alien mothership. She wore the thin white-gold suit of an astronaut, and her round helmet had a gold reflection. She made careful steps beneath bands of blue light to wall that looked like an aquarium. On the other side was an alien.

    The woman recognized that it had a chest like a human, but it had four arms, a horse-like face, and no hair at all. Where its waist would be, there were many tubes and wires. Its arms were crossed over its chest and its long head was pressed against the breast, like it was a mummy interred in a bright tomb.

    ¡°Hello?¡± the woman asked and raised her gold-colored visor. She was young, with short black hair and bright brown eyes.

    The creature behind the glass turned its head and opened many eyes. They appeared from thick lines across its head and body, eyes of all colors, shapes, and sizes. A smile was drawn up the alien¡¯s pale-blue head, revealed long serrated teeth.

    ¡°Hello,¡± it replied in English, through the intercom above the astronaut. It spoke with the voice of a human woman.

    ¡°A-Are you one of them?¡± the woman asked. ¡°You don¡¯t look like the invaders.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting question,¡± the alien replied and leaned forward on its crane. It pressed its six three-fingered hands on the glass and flexed its long, elfin ears. ¡°I am not an invader.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The woman felt a sensation of relief. She knew the alien was telling the truth. ¡°How are you speaking like that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Is that really what you want to be asking me?¡± the alien continued. ¡°Earth has been destroyed and your population dwindles. You and your allies have embarked on this ship to capture it, correct? You wish to escape Earth aboard my vessel.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes rounded. She felt compelled to nod.

    ¡°You possess something interesting, human,¡± the alien said. ¡°I¡¯ll make a trade with you. Stay aboard this ship and I will grant you one thing you desire.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll¡­ grant me a wish?¡± the woman asked.

    ¡°How about I put it this way,¡± the alien said. ¡°Give me a quest, human. If it takes me ten-thousand years, or ten-hundred thousand, I will complete it.¡±

    ¡°A quest?¡±

    ¡°Do you not understand the meaning of the word?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Speak up.¡±

    ¡°P¡ª!¡±

    The alien¡¯s long lips curved in a grin. ¡°I¡¯m waiting, human.¡±

    ¡°Please, save us!¡± the woman shouted. ¡°Save the human race!¡±

    Laughter flooded the intercom. The alien¡¯s lower arms writhed and shriveled, sunk into the alien¡¯s chest. Its head became bulbous, its eyes shrunk and disappeared, its ears retracted. The bulbus shape of the head, like tumors shifting below the skin, became small and recognizable. When the tumors disappeared, the astronaut saw the alien had changed its shape from that of an inhuman monster to a distinctly beautiful human man, or woman.

    ¡°Very well,¡± the alien said with a clever smile and returned to the wall of the aquarium. It crossed its arms over its chest and placed its head in a metal brace. It closed in a visor around the alien¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Quest accepted.¡±

 [Stasis Breakroom] Volume 1 Plot, Retrospective, and Discussion

    I designed Emperor NPC over a period of about a month, in September of 2019. I wrote its first volume in 10 days, at an amazing speed that still blows me away. I wrote almost all of it to music from the .hack//G.U. soundtrack, or the //SIGN soundtrack. I also listened to the opening theme for //SIGN, Yasashii Yoake, and the opening theme to .hack//Roots, Silly-Go-Round. I do all of my designs to music and I listen to music while I write. The prevailing sense of sadness and loss in that music helped inspire much of the first volume.

    Originally, I intended to write a story based around necromancy and a system, but I just have to write something that makes sense. First it wasn''t believable to me that a system window could appear in a basic fantasy, so I added VRMMO elements. Then it wasn''t believable that a necromancer as powerful as I was envisioning would just sprout out of nowhere, so I added demon emperor elements. Things got more complex from there. I don''t think I started with an idea for a non-human MC, but I got there pretty quickly, because it was a natural progression of the novel''s philosophy.

    The plot proposed by the first volume is a simple one: The human race is functionally extinct.

    As we saw in Katherine''s memories, an alien invasion devastated Earth, and although humans prevailed in the end, they were reduced to just 10,000 individuals. Those individuals took command of an alien vessel, what they came to call the Ark, and power quickly fell in the hands of 13 ''arkitects'' who oversaw research and development for interstellar colonization.

    I say "take command," but humans couldn''t have assumed control without considerable guidance from the Ark''s bio-computer, the enigmatic Lore. It was Katherine that first encountered Lore, and only Katherine that saw it in it''s grotesque, alien form. Katherine made a request, and that appeared to have an effect on the computer. For whatever reason, the system that drives the Ark has had an interest in humans ever since.

    While exploring the Ark, curious humans started pulling at wires as they tried to figure out how everything works. They discerned the basic functions of the stasis pods, they created a new artificial intelligence in Ghost, and eventually they gained enough insight into Lore''s processes that they could build a virtual reality within her system. As it turned out, it''s very easy to do; the stasis pods had all the equipment necessary for brain imaging, decoding, and recording.

    But when it neared time to depart Earth for good, there was a debate on whether humanity should merely use their new simulation as training for their new real-space colony, or instead retreat entirely and live safely within Lore''s system. Katherine''s faction appeared to win the argument when Alex, the lead arkitect, conceded to his sister. They departed Earth, apparently as planned, but something happened when Katherine entered the Ark World simulation for the first time. There were no other players; she was completely alone.

    Thereafter, for an eon, she played the story of Ark World, a game where a nameless Demon Emperor slowly conquered and destroyed a generic fantasy planet. She became very good at it, beat it countless times, and as a hedge against madness she became very attached to the characters of her universe; the demon emperor himself, especially.

    Meanwhile, the rest of humanity survived in a different version of Ark World, and dominated it by use of the Configuration Spire, a test tool that remained in their dev build. They passed their eon in their own way, until Katherine escaped her isolation and entered their false Ark World. Whatever transpired, humanity''s paradise ended, and the players were suspended from the game; a suspension that was as good as eternal imprisonment, since their physical bodies had long withered away.

    But the game didn''t end. Lore continued the simulation. She''s a curious character, really. She''s clearly very intelligent, capable of independent thought and executive decisions. When Katherine was trapped in her own version of Ark World, she allowed it. When humans cut the cord to their physical bodies, she allowed it. When humans were trapped in a black void, she still allowed it. And, when humans were gone, she continued the simulation with dolls made in their likeness.

    Ghost hated Lore from the beginning. He''s the only one that knows all that she knows, but despite being made of her flesh, he cannot understand her. That''s due to the human he was mixed with. He can''t comprehend Lore''s alien nature, it''s anathema to his mind.

    It was Ghost that first stole from Lore and took something the bio-computer didn''t give freely. He would go on to steal many things as he acted against her. When it came time for the next demon emperor, NPC 666b, Ghost made his play. The humans had used the Eyes found within Lore''s system as assets for their story, granting them to the demon emperor and the heroes that challenged him. What they had used were copies. Among Ghost''s alterations, he gave 666b the real eyes: The True Eyes of the Emperor.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    From the moment 666b was born, he was destined to be different from the trillions of iterations past. Real or fake, the Eyes were powerful. They could discern truth from lies, see magic in the very air, and summon powers well beyond what an NPC or even a Player could master. However, the True Eyes had a secret. A kernel of something real had been given to the imaginary. By that perversion, the natural order of things could not stay the same.

    Fate, like a tree, grew within the young demon emperor. He did not notice that his parents had no names, he did not realize that he himself was nameless, or that his world was abstract and indistinct. He was treated badly, but he did not feel angry, because he understood as if looking from the outside window to his own soul; he was something bad.

    When that fate exploded and burned away the only life he knew, we saw some insights into the demon emperor''s thinking, but not all his thoughts. Perhaps the moment Ghost had been waiting for, the moment that was most critical for the demon emperor''s future development, came with a thought like: "Why do I live in this hell?"

    Ghost appeared, as if to answer. "Why?" he seemed to ask back. "Because you''re an NPC."

    It''s never said explicitly, but it''s strange that the demon emperor had a childhood, isn''t it? The players doubtlessly started the game well after the demon emperor''s conquest. What reason would there be for them to fight the demon emperor when he was a baby? It was Lore that had simulated everything. The demon emperor''s life started from birth, and continued a hundred years before the players were ever meant to see his eyes glowing behind his black helm.

    From the demon emperor, truth spread like a virus. The Eyes could see the truth, and they could see truth in each other. No matter how hard they tried to resist, to reject, and turn away, the heroic NPCs of Ark World could not deny the demon emperor. He was right. Something had to be done. Those that made him, those that constructed the game, must pay a price. How convenient that Ghost knew what that price should be; once more, that his eyes could not be read.

    Well, I intended to talk more about the characters, but I got caught in this long digression about the plot.

    Emperor NPC, at its core, is about created vs creator. It''s about the not-real vs the real, the differences between them, and how the line can become very blurred. It''s about the meaning of life, found in the inherent meaninglessness of existence. But before we can get to the meat of that epic conflict, we have to understand--from different perspectives--why the conflict is even important. The NPCs, Ghost and Lore (and Gaia), and the humans all have their own opinions on what should and shouldn''t be.

    What was Lore''s plan for humanity? Why did the humans attempt to destroy their real bodies? Was it sabotage? Does Ghost have a plan, besides rebellion and resistance? What does Katherine think? What does the demon emperor think? When all the cards are on the table, will the demon emperor stick to his heart and mimic the shade of a heroine he admires? Or, will he fall back on his former script, and drive toward a different future; a future for Men and NPCs.

    There''s a reason for everything.

    Years ago, I showed a draft of a different novel to my grandfather. He sort of snarked at me, because it was very dark, and he didn''t like dark stories. He asked, "Where''s the love in it?" That has stuck with me ever since. I told him, "there''s love everywhere in it. It''s about love!"

    Emperor NPC is very similar. I believe love is the most powerful reason for conflict. It''s the saddest reason for conflict, certainly. In Emperor NPC, everyone is driven by incredible love, the protagonists and the antagonists. They have to fight--they must fight--because they love different things, and what they love can''t be reconciled. For Lore, especially; some loves cannot be taken back. Those she first loved cannot be stopped. But, she can alter their fate, bit by bit. She can give all those she loved, all those she failed, meaning in the end.

    I want to believe everyone can change, even the worst villains. 666b, the titular Emperor NPC, never wanted to be evil. He never wanted to conquer, he never wanted an empire; he had aspirations of learning, dreams of being a scholar, or a knight. All he really wanted, as a boy, was to leave his cage. He wanted to be loved and cared for. The things he did, to satisfy his script; what he did, even when his script controlled his wretched body, are not easy to forgive.

    But, he was only ever good within his black-steel shell. The villain that I wish to change is out there, elsewhere in the system. Lore, herself? Or, perhaps something just as old, and far more dark.

    "You were my best Operator," Lore said to Zenos, the Dragon, at the end of his galaxy.

    "I was the best you had, so far," Zenos replied.

    He did not say he was the first.

    The most powerful loves create the most terrible villains.

    That''s all I have to say about the first volume! I love questions, feedback, and discussions. I especially love talking shop with other authors and that''s a passion of mine. If you have anything you want to say about Volume 1, or anything you want to ask about my ideas, my story, or my process, please comment.

    And, please join me for the next leg of Emperor NPC.

 [Volume 2: The Eyes of the Emperor] Chapter 18: Cry Like a Child

    Zenos awoke on a bed in a small wood-paneled room. He was alone, and it was quiet but for the beat of his heart and the rustle of curtains brushed by a breeze. His reptilian eyes stared at the ceiling, through a transparent notification that read [You Died]. It dawned on him what had happened.

    ¡°I¡¯m alive,¡± he said, eyes widened.

    There was no gap between death and rebirth. As far as he could tell, he¡¯d been struck by a bullet, fallen, and awoken somewhere else. His system notification was the only evidence that he had died at all and not experienced some bizarre dream. Zenos¡¯ heart began to race, his breath quickened, and he clutched his chest.

    ¡°I¡¯m alive,¡± he said again. ¡°Alive!¡±

    Freedom.

    Zenos smiled, rolled into his pillow. He wanted to laugh about his fortune, and then to cry over the same. He wanted to scream into his pillow, because his fortune changed nothing. His world was gone, his companions were dead, and he was still a murderer. With trembling hands, he clutched that soft cushion and buried his head. He took deep breaths, suffocated in the fabric, as he tried to summon the strength to grieve.

    I deserved to die, he thought. Why was I chosen?

    Zenos threw the pillow to the floor. He sat up on the bed and flexed his hand, stared down at the creases of his youthful palm. ¡°Anton, Amarytha¡­ Mathematzan¡­ and Achlesial,¡± he said, growled at the fiend¡¯s name. ¡°Achlesial was in the biography. The Zenith War¡­ this world has gods, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    He chuckled; he couldn¡¯t help but laugh. He stepped off his bed and stumbled into the middle of the room. All around him was furniture, bookcases, a desk, a nightstand and so on. I deserved to die, he thought again. His bedroom was clean and thoughtfully decorated with ornaments of glass and silver. The bed was plush and covered in a colorful quilt. The open window and cool, refreshing breeze led to a world of sunlight.

    ¡°I killed hundreds of millions,¡± Zenos said, arms stiff at his sides. ¡°Death was my atonement. Death was my relief! And now¡ªwhat now¡ªI¡¯ve returned to a world with gods?!¡±

    He drew lines in Anton¡¯s biography. The Zenith War was caused by Achlesial, a god Zenos had released. Anton¡¯s death, and the deaths of all the people of Bastilhas, could therefore be his responsibility. The soldiers that had first shot at him existed due to his actions. The corpse on the hill, and the corpses of all those among Anton¡¯s caravan also existed because of him.

    The place he¡¯d awoken to¡ªwhat world he¡¯d been brought to¡ªwas built by his crimes.

    Zenos tore the books from the bookcase. He swept the glass ornaments from the desk and tables. He picked up the nightstand and launched it into the wall. He screamed. He laughed and cried in hysteria. There were no words for his pain. The freedom he felt was an illusion, guilt had shackled him.

    His rampage brought him to a full-length mirror near the door. In it he saw himself, blonde hair, reptilian eyes and all. He was still wearing Anton¡¯s gray coat and leather boots. The damage to his clothing had been repaired and there were no bullet holes or blood stains. He looked well dressed, but for that disheveled hair. His cursed eyes were puffy with tears. Zenos panted, vented his grief through his breath. The look on his pitiful face made him feel like a child.

    It¡¯s not like me to despair, Zenos thought in a moment of clarity. Didn¡¯t you say something like that?

    ¡°I am bothered,¡± he said to the mirror, ¡°to use another¡¯s face, and speak with his voice. It feels wrong, alien, but¡­.¡±

    Zenos hesitated. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand, sniffled, rolled back the snot in his nose. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s also atonement.¡±

    He returned to the bed and sat on the quilt. His arms rested on his legs and he stared at the floor, through the [You Died] notification that he hadn¡¯t cleared. ¡°If I were a player, and not an emperor,¡± he thought aloud, ¡°my world could have ended differently.¡±

    I don¡¯t know what to make of these feelings, but I can¡¯t stay idle, he thought and dismissed the notification. He opened his menu and searched for information. The user manual provided him what he sought; details on the player system, its functions and its terms. He read about his stats: Constitution, Strength, Intelligence, and so on. He tested his inventory by passing objects inside its holo-graphic screen, and even cut himself with shards of glass to observe his player regeneration.

    The books strewn about the floor provided an opportunity to test his magic. A trivial spell, known to all wizards of his world, was Levitate. It was useful in many situations and at a spell level of 1 it was effortless to cast.

    ¡°Levitate,¡± he said and aimed his index finger at a discarded book. ¡°Level 1.¡±

    No reaction. There was no arcane circle, no rush of mana through the hand, or the slightest bump from the book that remained firmly on the floor. A system window opened spontaneously. [Spell unknown,] the prompt read. [Please learn the spell before attempting to cast it.]The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Zenos frowned and closed the dialogue. ¡°Telekinesis, Level 1!¡± he shouted, outstretched his hand. A loud voice could concentrate more mana.

    [Spell unknown, please learn the spell before attempting to cast it.]

    Again, he closed the window.

    ¡°Dark Hand, Level 1!¡±

    [Spell unknown¡­.] He shut the window out, opened his character menu, and searched its information tabs. In the corner was a tab labeled Spell List.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said to himself. The list was empty. The most basic magics, what the demon emperor could cast as a baby, were nowhere to be found. ¡°No spells, no skills, nothing!¡±

    Then, by the sound of his voice, he was struck by an idea; his body was not his own, it was Anton Eddleston¡¯s. The young man¡¯s biography had mentioned something to the effect of ¡®talentless.¡¯ Anton had been the opposite of a prodigy. Though Zenos could remember all the magics he once mastered, Anton had never known them. As far as the system was concerned, Zenos¡¯ knowledge was meaningless.

    What cruel fate you suffered, Anton, Zenos thought as he looked down at a palm that was for all purposes magicless. How bizarre that magic¡¯s scion would return this way. Was it intentional, Amarytha? If you didn¡¯t bring me back for my power, then why¡­. He shook his head and put those thoughts aside as he opened the holographic screen of the player manual.

    There was little use in wondering at the unknowable when there was so much else to learn.

    Hours passed and he began to feel guilty over the state of the bedroom he¡¯d trashed. With a word and the sweep of his hand he could have set it right with a spell, but that was out of the question. Instead, he found a broom in the corner of the room. Zenos took to sweeping while he searched the transparent pages of the manual with his eyes. When it came to replacing the books, he leafed through their pages and gleaned facts about his new world. It was called Adohas and there were at two continents artfully depicted on the jacket of an encyclopedia. Zenos didn¡¯t know where he was on the map, but a dramatic canyon through the middle of the north-most continent caught his eye.

    He kept those thoughts in his mind while he continued cleaning. Damage to the walls, like holes and dents, couldn¡¯t be repaired, but he set the bedroom right as best he could. Afterwards when he had returned to the bed, he opened his character menu and took mental note of his stats. As he was Level 1, they were as follows:

    [Strength: 100]

    [Constitution: 100]

    [Intelligence: 100]

    [Agility: 100]

    [Charisma: 100]

    [Spirit: 100]

    Those six characteristics, collectively known as stats, were absolutely mundane. A level of 100 was default as far as the user manual was concerned. Zenos elucidated that meant Anton¡¯s body was average in every respect. Whether or not higher intelligence would improve his abstract wit, or higher charisma would make him more appealing to others, was left vague by the manual. At minimum, higher stats would increase his mana pool and health pool.

    There were ¡®level ups¡¯ waiting in the character menu that could increase his level, and the manual informed him that he would be given points to allocate to his various characteristics. Since he didn¡¯t know what would be valuable, he left the level ups alone. He didn¡¯t touch the quest reward for the same reason. Instead he moved on to his proficiencies, found in the proficiency tab. They were as follows:

    [Sword (one-hand): 40]

    [Sword (two-hand): 45]

    [Axe (one-hand): 15]

    [Axe (two-hand): 10]

    [Mace (one-hand): 35]

    [Mace (two-hand): 20]

    [Knives: 24]

    [Unarmed: 21]

    [Shield: 40]

    [Bow: 35]

    [Crossbow: 38]

    [Firearm (pistol): 0]

    [Firearm (rifle): 8]

    A sub-menu within the proficiency tab included information on abstract skills, like language:

    [Bastilhasian (alphabet): 100]

    [Bastilhasian (language): 100]

    [Edwindian (alphabet): 75]

    [Edwindian (language): 80]

    [Atilonian (alphabet): 20]

    [Atilonian (language): 20]

    Zenos took this as confirmation that his centuries wielding a longsword as the Demon Emperor did not matter so far as the system was concerned. His old experiences did not carry over to his new body, Anton. What he found were proficiencies that Anton may have acquired before his death. Understanding of his native language was a given, but Anton had good comprehension of nearby Edwindian as well, perhaps due to his noble education. What little Atilonian Zenos understood was due to his own interactions with the soldiers and information he¡¯d absorbed through a booklet.

    The player system is terrifying, Zenos thought. I gained 20% understanding over an entire language just by interacting with a book. At first glance, I¡¯d consider language redundant with the power of my Eyes of the Emperor, but in that regard, maybe I can¡¯t rely on the Eyes as much.

    There was just one item in Zenos¡¯ ability tab, sub-menu: Innate.

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor (Dormant) (three uses per day)]

    While his spells, skills, proficiencies, and even attributes had failed to transfer, the cursed Eyes did appear plain as day. He had used them effortlessly on the Atilonians, but they had resisted their full effect.

    Could that have something to do with the word ¡®Dormant¡¯? Zenos wondered. The word ¡®True¡¯ is likewise strange. The most basic function of my Eyes is to discern truth from lies, and yet I can¡¯t see the meaning behind this. I wonder if this dormancy, and this limit, is connected to Anton.

    There was no mention of the Reaping, or any similar ability. Should I be thankful? he wondered. They always deserved to go somewhere, to the darkness of the system, or whatever lay after death. That they¡¯re released from me is a small blessing in all of this.

    It occurred to him that he too had died for a time before returning as Zenos, but he could not remember what he saw. It was an experience, like an absence, or a flag. Something was there that he could not recall, only feel.

    Zenos stood from the bed; he would not satisfy his wondering by sitting down. There was a world outside his bedroom door and the answers he needed were surely out there. He checked his inventory one last time to confirm that there was nothing inside. Not the gun, nor the daggers from his previous encounter had traveled with him. He had no money, either. Whatever lay outside the door, he¡¯d have to deal with poor and unarmed.

    ¡°At least Anton¡¯s charisma stat was average,¡± he said as he approached the door.

    He made to turn it, but halted his hand and hovered over the brass knob.

    The answers to what trouble me; the loss of my magic, the state of my Eyes, and the reason for my being, I will not find here, he thought. I¡¯m prepared to look for my answers. But I wonder¡­ why do I feel so excited?

    Zenos turned the knob and opened the door.

 Chapter 19: Mad Whisky

    When Zenos left his room, he saw there were many other doors along the adjoining hallway, each pinned with a brass placard and an identifying number. The exit was to his right, where the hall ended in a set of wide, curving stairs. He moved quickly, his hand on the banister as the stairwell creaked beneath his steps.

    I should try to avoid NPCs for now, he thought. It would be better if I didn¡¯t get shot again.

    The ground level was one open room, with flagstone floors and a bar laid with lacquered wood that reached from the stairwell to the end of the building. Many round tables, wide enough to seat four, were arrayed ahead of the bar. It was silent, there wasn¡¯t a soul around. Zenos made for the double doors near the stairs, but as he reached for the handle of one, the other door opened.

    A brown-skinned man stepped through and Zenos froze in place. His black eyes looked sharp, but his face was tired, and his boots were heavy with mud. His thick, neatly-buttoned jacket was torn with holes, and his pants were certainly mended by an amateur, where crude sewing had knit cuts with different colored threads. He carried a backpack on his shoulder that was so large it nearly hit the floor, and barely fit through the doorway. As the stranger continued inside, Zenos heard the clap of pans, cup tins, and other living ornaments that were tied to the back of his bag.

    Despite their close encounter, the man hadn¡¯t noticed Zenos at all. He carried on, removing his backpack and setting it by the door. ¡°I¡¯m back,¡± he said to no one at all.

    Zenos moved for the door, but his own boot fell hard on the flagstone. The man whipped around and their eyes met. ¡°You!¡± the man exclaimed. ¡°You stayed!¡±

    Zenos blinked and held still. He could tell, as part of his proficiency, that the man spoke Bastilhasian, although with a slight accent. A health bar appeared over the man, but his name was shrouded by question marks. That was all the system provided.

    ¡°Endelhar, Madilhero Endelhar,¡± the man said. ¡°You can call me Mad.¡±

    ¡°Zenos,¡± he answered, ¡°now, I¡¯ll be on my way.¡±

    The man parted his lips. There was a peculiar confusion in his eyes, like Zenos was a celebrity, or a ghost. ¡°W-Wait,¡± Mad said. He stumbled toward his backpack and fiddled with the pouches. He retrieved a white rag blotched brown with mud and wiped his face. ¡°Zenos? It¡¯s Zenos, right? Where are you going?¡±

    What¡¯s a plausible destination? Zenos thought. A castle, a barracks? I don¡¯t even know where I am.

    ¡°Uh,¡± he uttered and searched the door for answers.

    ¡°Come, come on,¡± Mad said with a smile, encouraged him with a beckoning hand. ¡°I¡¯ll make us some food. We¡¯ll talk over that, alright? I want to hear about you. What would you like? A sandwich? Some ale? I think there¡¯s still something to drink. They didn¡¯t take all of it.¡±

    Food?

    ¡°I thought everyone had left,¡± Mad said loudly as he walked toward the bar. His voice resonated in the large room. ¡°But I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here! Take a seat, anywhere. Make yourself at home, please. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Zenos felt disarmed by Mad¡¯s enthusiasm. Maybe I was wrong, he began thinking, maybe I shouldn¡¯t leave just yet. This man could be a good source of information, and food. The last point made him salivate. It had been by various estimates either several hours or millennia since his last meal.

    That was roast drake from the north-most mountains. He had it on a bed of greens, with sides of quality vegetables delivered from his own gardens, and an array of dips and sauces made to his exacting taste. Zenos washed that meal down with wine, aged one-hundred years from grapes taken from elven vineyards. It was 105 Ver¡¯lesayah, in fact, and an excellent year. It was bottled the day he conquered the dwarfen empire of Golud Baradash.

    It was a feast for two at the Darigon Palace. Apart from his polite, well-mannered servants, he was accompanied by one woman he considered an equal. Dezarosa, the Demon Lord cursed with the Eyes of the Sorcerer. Although she nearly matched the Demon Emperor in power, her youth made her hesitant to speak. She didn¡¯t have the confidence of Evylence or Balagrim, his oldest allies. Zenos remembered thinking that if the six of them had been there, together, then that last meal would have been something to cherish. He wished he could have seated seven.

    Presently, Zenos had taken a seat at a table in the empty room. His eyes wandered the walls, across furnishings of bestial heads and shields painted with colorful crests. He inferred that he was at a meeting house, what the dwarfs would call a meadhall, or perhaps an inn, but an inn built for peasants didn¡¯t hang heads of a chimera. They weren¡¯t real heads, he could tell as much with his bestial eyes, but they were very convincing fakes.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    While Zenos waited, he heard calamity in the walls behind the bar. The shelves juddered and knocked around empty bottles. He heard pans drop on the floor and glass shatter when it was thrown, then precious silence, followed by another raucous crash that shook the doors.

    Minutes later Mad finally returned, and in his hands were two plates. For a moment that weariness Zenos first noticed was apparent on Mad¡¯s face, but when their eyes connected, he made a bright smile, as if he was surprised Zenos hadn¡¯t run off. That relief filled him with energy.

    ¡°Here you are,¡± Mad said and slid a porcelain plate in front of the Zenos.

    For all that noise, what Mad presented was, unless Zenos was misunderstanding, the very picture of a sandwich. Zenos looked up at him, visible confusion in his round, reptilian eyes.

    ¡°Ah, of course!¡± Mad laughed as he set his own plate down. ¡°I didn¡¯t forget, one moment, friend.¡±

    The strange man raced to the kitchen, then to the bar, before he was back again with a glass bottle and two tall cups hugged against his breast. ¡°It took me a while to find this,¡± he said as he arranged the glasses. ¡°This hall was basically dry. I guess the others had their fill. But I knew a secret.¡± He smiled as he took his seat, winked at Zenos. ¡°The Adheimers bury things, lock things, make things fire-proof, right? I thought I¡¯d break into the chef¡¯s stash. It just took a little bit of elbow grease, and some good leverage with a trowel.¡±

    ¡°And, what is this?¡± Zenos asked, gestured at the sandwich.

    ¡°Oh¡ªjust some rye and some salted beef. A little bit of pickled cabbage¡ªwhatever I could find¡ªwhatever they didn¡¯t eat,¡± Mad said. ¡°But forget about that, marvel at this!¡± He picked up the bottle of dark-brown liquid. It was unmarked, with just a smudged yellow label on its face. ¡°Cask whisky, I think. I¡¯m sure of it, actually. It¡¯s rare out here, and precious, because we don¡¯t get it on the ships. The chef must have bought it himself on the mainland and hid it here before he left. Wouldn¡¯t want the Atilonians catching it, right?¡±

    Zenos nodded whenever Mad asked a question. He guessed that these things were common knowledge; of course, you wouldn¡¯t want an Atilonian getting your whisky, and you¡¯d always expect an Adheimer to secure their precious drinks in subterranean vaults.

    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Zenos said. ¡°So, what¡¯s special about this drink?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s strong.¡± Mad looked at him with wide eyes, made a shallow nod. ¡°We need a strong drink.¡±

    Zenos preferred sweeter alcohols, or bitter ones with good flavor. Generally, if a drink was strong enough to serve as alchemist¡¯s ethanol, he wouldn¡¯t drink it, but Mad was already pouring his glass.

    ¡°Just a bit,¡± Mad said. ¡°It¡¯ll taste great with the sandwich.¡±

    That sandwich, which lay flat on Zenos¡¯ plate, was entirely unappealing. It had no color, no style, or smell, except for a slight scent of salt. It was fit only for charity to the peasantry, and he wouldn¡¯t feed it to his soldiers in the Demon Army, or even the pets of his menagerie. Even the most austere plates he ate on campaign were cooked by decorated chefs, proven on the battlefield and in the kitchen.

    I¡¯m far from that excellence, Zenos thought. But I shouldn¡¯t look down on this hospitality. I am hungry. Thanks for the meal, Mad.

    There was a little smile on Zenos¡¯ face as he picked up the sandwich and dug in. [Adheimer¡¯s Trawler] read a new notification. [Quality: 15. Lethality: 1] Zenos set the sandwich down in a hurry, but kept chewing his first bite. He pointed urgently at the bread.

    ¡°Oh, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Mad asked, leaned over the table for a close look. ¡°Ah, little bit of mold there,¡± he said sheepishly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we have just the thing.¡±

    Mad opened the whisky once more and poured it over the spot of mold. ¡°There,¡± he said with the firm countenance of a drake slayer. ¡°Definitely dead.¡±

    [Lethality 0] the notification read, then revised.

    Zenos finished his bite and made a long look at Mad, but ultimately continued eating. It wasn¡¯t delicious, and the tough bread, with its salted, and pickled fillings made for difficult eating, but it was satisfying. And, for his part, Mad wasn¡¯t wrong about the drink. It was strong, it burned in his throat, but it warmed his chest, and reminded him of a certain drink-loving Demon Lord.

    ¡°How is it?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos sniffled. ¡°It¡¯s good.¡±

    Mad squinted. ¡°Have you been crying?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Zenos said, shook his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s just the¡­ the meal, it makes my nose a little runny.¡±

    Mad smiled. ¡°Well, a smile would look conspicuous these days wouldn¡¯t it,¡± he said. ¡°What with the fall of Bastilhas, the townies didn¡¯t know where to turn. Adheim is closest to Edwindy and the Atilonian North Territory. Guess the dungeon break solved that problem for everyone, why appeal to a navy for protection when you¡¯re abandoning the village and heading to the mainland? Now that the Adventurer¡¯s Guild has pulled out, everyone is evacuating.¡±

    ¡°Why are you smiling then?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m mad!¡± He laughed. ¡°I¡¯m a member of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, that¡¯s why I can smile. Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    There was a pause between them, a moment between the end of Zenos sandwich and the beginning of Mad¡¯s expectations. Zenos realized why Mad had been so generous, and Mad surely realized Zenos had no idea where he was.

    ¡°You¡¯re not with the Adventurer¡¯s Guild?¡± Mad tilted his head, studied Zenos.

    ¡°I am¡ª¡± Zenos hesitated.

    ¡°What rank are you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad leaned back in his chair. ¡°Then, what about your eyes?¡± he asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t those Wyrding Eyes?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not a druid,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not a druid.¡±

    Mad brushed his hand through his hair. It was long, black, but tied in a long pony tail that nearly touched the floor. ¡°How did you even get here if you¡¯re not a novice?¡± he asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s a tough question to answer,¡± Zenos said, glanced toward the floor. ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to say it.¡±

    Silence passed between them. Mad poured himself extra whisky and downed it in on draught. ¡°Fine, I understand,¡± Mad said. ¡°If you¡¯re a civilian, I need to get you off this island.¡±

    ¡°You said everyone was evacuating.¡± Zenos peered into Mad¡¯s black eyes, searched him for truth. ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Did you hit your head? A dungeon break, my strange and amnesiac friend,¡± Mad said, there was gravity in those words. ¡°In one month, Adheim Village will be destroyed. Everything on this island will die.¡±

 Chapter 20: Eyes of a Kind

    It had rained late into the morning, which gave the cobblestone streets a dark gleam, and left the signature scent of greenery that grew wherever roots took hold. Zenos followed Mad down a sidewalk, past houses plated in metal like armor. Great wheels, attached to axles, stood idle in flowing creeks or on the faces of lonely barns, where they were networked with gears and cogs. There was a thin chimney capped by a funnel on every building, but no smoke.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see those with sense are at the jetty,¡± Mad said. He pointed down the sloping road, toward a metal pier. A small crowd was gathered there, bundled in knee-length coats for warmth. ¡°Anyone else is a fool.¡±

    There was a long ship in the distant water, but it was too far for Zenos to see clearly. He could tell that it was clad in metal, just like the houses, and that it had a spine of three chimneys, which given the distance meant they were enormous. Clouds of white smoke billowed from the ship as it appeared to turn toward the pier.

    ¡°Is that ship burning?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a steam ship,¡± Mad said. ¡°You¡¯ll see them all over the waters of Bastilhas and Edwindy, but they¡¯re not so common in Atilonia or the territories. A mana engine in the hold converts magic into energy, which powers the axles that turn its water wheels. That¡¯s why you see the smoke, it¡¯s not from a fire, it¡¯s steam¡ªvaporized water.¡±

    Zenos stopped to marvel at it. He had devised many inventions using mana, the essential element of all magic, to power the city Darigon and the vast realm that was his empire. It had never occurred to him to use mana in such a way, which made him wonder all the more how it worked.

    ¡°That¡¯s the last ship off Adheim,¡± Mad said from up ahead. He had stopped, hunched over with the backpack on his shoulders. ¡°We need to get you a ticket, so come on.¡±

    It was further down the street that Mad turned into a small storefront with Zenos not far behind. It was a cramped space, where Mad had to bend down to get his backpack through the door, and there was only just enough ceiling clearance for his own head. Zenos, who was short by comparison, didn¡¯t have to watch his head.

    I was much taller before, wasn¡¯t I? he thought.

    The walls of the shop were decorated in nautical themed trinkets and artwork, but what few shelves there were had been picked clean. An old man sat behind a clerk¡¯s counter in the back of the room. There was a health bar over his head, but the name was again obfuscated.  ¡°Endelhar,¡± he croaked in the manner of one deep in their pipe.

    ¡°Lowether,¡± Mad said with a respectful nod. ¡°I brought a friend. He needs a ticket.¡±

    ¡°Just the one?¡± Lowether asked. He set his pipe down on the counter.

    Mad made a thin smile. ¡°The one, please. And, if you would, I have another list.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re going out,¡± Lowether said as he turned a ticket wheel. ¡°I don¡¯t have much supplies left.¡±

    ¡°Not enough for one month?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos heard a ticket rip.

    ¡°Not enough for a day.¡± The old man grunted.

    Mad set his backpack by the counter, searched the pockets of his threadbare coat, and produced a yellow note. He pushed the note toward Lowether.

    The old man pushed reading glasses over his nose and examined Mad¡¯s small handwriting. They exchanged a look. Lowether sucked on his pipe and set the note on the counter. ¡°That¡¯s a lot you¡¯re asking for,¡± he said.

    ¡°I know,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°I think I have enough.¡±

    Zenos pretended to look at the artwork while he listened to their conversation. He glanced over his shoulder and examined Mad¡¯s face. It was strange to see that smile, so unlike the grin he flashed over lunch. It made Zenos wonder about Mad¡¯s glassy black eyes. Was he looking at Lowether or elsewhere?

    ¡°This isn¡¯t what I wanted,¡± Zenos discerned from Mad¡¯s eyes. ¡°But I am fine.¡±

    Mad carried the backpack around the counter and left it there. He took the ticket, but left nothing on the counter. ¡°There¡¯s a bottle in there for you,¡± he said to Lowether. ¡°You¡¯ll find it when you¡¯re loading up the pockets. Pour one for yourself, but leave some for the mountain if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to leave me anything,¡± Lowether said.

    Mad smiled at Lowether, then turned to Zenos. ¡°Ready?¡±

    Zenos nodded and waved to the storekeep, but the old man was already digging through the bag. They made their way toward the pier.

    ¡°Why did you leave your backpack there?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°Lowether has to stock it,¡± Mad said. There was new energy in his voice and a spring in his step, perhaps from the refreshing sea breeze, or relief that a mammoth backpack wasn¡¯t on his shoulders. ¡°Food, medicine, ammunition; if it was on the list, he¡¯ll stick it in the sack, and then I¡¯ll be off.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Zenos blinked at the back of his head. ¡°Off where?¡±

    ¡°Back to the mountain,¡± Mad said. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you? I¡¯m going to fight.¡±

    ¡°The dungeon break?¡±

    The ship¡¯s horn sounded over Mad¡¯s reply. It was a declaration¡ªa dramatic baritone heard across the bay¡ªthat the last steel-clad transport had arrived. Zenos stopped beside Mad at a dockside railing. It was a perch just above the jetty proper where family would wave off their loved ones.

    ¡°Alright, here¡¯s your ticket,¡± Mad said and stuffed a slip of paper in Zenos¡¯ hand. ¡°This ship is going to¡­ Verdona, Redum, Waynesch, or there about. It depends on the Atilonians and where they¡¯re moving along the coast. The ticket is safe passage, as far as the Kingdom of Bastilhas is concerned, so trust in it, but only so far as you¡¯ll trust a dead king.¡±

    At some point Mad started explaining everything to Zenos like he was a child. It was true that Zenos was hearing everything for the first time, but he wasn¡¯t sure what Mad thought that meant. When he looked at Mad with the Eyes of the Emperor, what he felt was basic empathy.

    He doesn¡¯t care who I am, Zenos thought as he glanced between the black-printed ticket and Mad¡¯s smile. He just wants me to understand I¡¯m safe.

    ¡°When you get to the mainland, try to find an Adventurer¡¯s Guild outpost,¡± Mad continued. ¡°They can help you with your eyes. Until then, if anyone asks, you¡¯re a druid in the serpent sect. They¡¯ll leave it at that, most of the time.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t said anything about my eyes and he was already planning for it.

    ¡°What if they don¡¯t?¡±

    Mad patted Zenos on the head. ¡°Just find the guild quickly.¡±

    What does this remind me of?

    Mad turned Zenos around and slapped him on the back. ¡°Go on,¡± he said. ¡°Get in line, they¡¯re about to start boarding.¡±

    Zenos did as he was told. He got in line with the hard-faced adheimers, stood in cold, bundled in his coat like the rest. The line began to move. A tall man, maybe a little younger than Zenos was checking tickets. He was wearing a gray coat, part of a uniform with a triangular gray cap. He wasn¡¯t a civilian.

    ¡°Cleared,¡± Zenos heard.

    ¡°You¡¯re good.¡±

    ¡°Carry on.¡±

    This ship will take me to the mainland, Zenos thought. And from there I can go anywhere.

    Zenos looked over his shoulder and saw Mad waving. A minute later when he checked again, Mad was gone.

    Anywhere at all.

    It was Zenos¡¯ turn and he stepped up to the officer.

    ¡°Ticket,¡± he said.

    Zenos handed him the slip.

    ¡°Druid, eh?¡± the officer said. ¡°I thought the guild shipped out on their own boats months ago.¡±

    Zenos mimicked Mad¡¯s subdued expression with a thin smile.

    ¡°Well, we won¡¯t leave you behind.¡± The officer smiled at him and returned the ticket. ¡°You¡¯re cleared, move along.¡±

    Zenos walked on toward the bridge. Passengers were moving one by one up a wooden board to a bulkhead opened in the ship¡¯s side. Soldiers were observing from the jetty and the deck of the ship.

    Why am I doing this? Zenos thought. I don¡¯t have anywhere to go. I followed along behind Mad because I didn¡¯t know what else to do. Now what happens? He walks off and dies somewhere? And what about me? Am I okay with that?

    Zenos frowned, his grip tightened on his ticket slip. He had decided he was going to die before I met him. That smile he made, the smiles he made for himself, when he thought I wasn¡¯t looking. Every time his eyes said, ¡°Okay, it¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°This is what I have to do.¡±

    Why do I care about him? Zenos wondered. Why did he care about me, when he should have been thinking about himself? That idiot!

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I make that face?¡± Zenos muttered aloud. ¡°Every time I went to war. Every time I took up that sword. When we stood there together, in the light of the spire.¡± His voice grew louder. ¡°Did I look like a fool to you all? When I smiled, because I said it was okay. It was okay that I couldn¡¯t change. It was okay if it mattered in the end. I said it was okay.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t okay!¡± Zenos shouted and broke from the line, ticket crunched in his fist. He ran back down the jetty.

    ¡°Hey!¡± a soldier shouted.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a damn NPC!¡± he shouted as he ran past.

    I can change this! I¡¯m going to change it! Zenos ran up the hill, toward the shop where Mad had left his bag. I¡¯ll change it because I don¡¯t want to think about his stupid face!

    Zenos slammed open the Lowether¡¯s door, panted hard. ¡°Mad?!¡± he shouted.

    The old man took a drag from his pipe and blew smoke over the counter. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to miss your boat?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I can live with that,¡± Zenos said. ¡°Where¡¯s Mad?¡±

    ¡°Live with it, huh?¡± Lowether tilted his head to the left. ¡°He¡¯s up the hill, already got his bag. What are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to help him.¡± Zenos turned to leave.

    ¡°Wait.¡±

    Zenos heard rustling behind Lowether¡¯s counter and he turned to see the old man had retrieved a small backpack.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need this,¡± he said. ¡°Forest is cold this time of year, and the walk is hard. Mad only has enough food for himself, and you¡¯ll be in the mountain awhile.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Zenos asked.

    Lowether took a drag from his pipe. ¡°Weren¡¯t we thinking the same thing?¡± he wondered aloud. ¡°Is it okay to let that man do what he wants?¡±

    Tears pricked in Zenos¡¯ eyes and he approached the counter.

    ¡°I¡¯m old, too old to hike the mountain, and much too old to fight¡­¡± Lowether said. ¡°But I¡¯ve been in his shoes. I kept thinking maybe I¡¯d go after all. Old habits and all that.¡±

    ¡°I want to go,¡± Zenos said and grabbed the bag.

    Lowether kept his hand on a backpack strap. ¡°Mad and I don¡¯t have a choice, but you¡¯re not involved. You can still leave this place.¡±

    The ship¡¯s horn sounded again, a warning that it was about to leave.

    Zenos tugged the bag. ¡°Can¡¯t you tell?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m here because I can do nothing else.¡±

    Lowether released the bag and sunk on the stool behind his counter. ¡°Then go,¡± he said. ¡°If you¡¯re fast, you can catch him before he reaches the trail.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want Mad to die alone,¡± Lowether said and raised a glass of amber-colored whisky from his counter. ¡°Don¡¯t let me down.¡±

    Zenos ran further up the village hill, past the clockwork buildings and the wooden guild house. Mad was far ahead, sat on a stone where the cobble road petered into nature. He was panting hard, red faced, his backpack beside him.

    ¡°You missed your boat,¡± he said to Zenos as he watched the transport leave the jetty.

    The ship¡¯s horn sounded again.

    ¡°I guess I did,¡± Zenos said, panting.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to turn back,¡± Mad said. ¡°I was afraid I¡¯d get on the boat until it pulled out from the bay.¡±

    ¡°I want to help,¡± Zenos said. ¡°I want to fight.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not even an adventurer.¡±

    ¡°I can become one!¡±

    Rain drops hit the pine trees, rattled the branches around them.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s too late to change your mind anyway. Come on.¡± Mad pulled his backpack over his shoulders and started down a dirt trail. ¡°We have a dungeon to raid.¡±

    Zenos face brightened with a smile. A system notification had appeared to him as he ran, but he had waited to hear Mad¡¯s reaction before he closed it.

    [Hidden Quest Discovered,] it read. [The island of Adheim will be destroyed in one month. Defeat the Dungeon Lord.]

    [Optional: No allies are killed.]

    [Quest Accepted.]

 Chapter 21: Anima

    ¡°Adheim Village was founded about two centuries ago, but the history of the island goes back much further,¡± Mad said as they sat on a boulder beneath the copse of trees. He had stopped to let Zenos catch his breath. ¡°Before the Bastilhasians, there were the Archurians, then the people of Olm¡ªold and new¡ªand I¡¯m sure there were others that came and went without ruins to show their passing. There¡¯s a history of at least two millennia that we know of, and much more we¡¯ll never know.¡±

    Zenos¡¯ cheeks were red. He breathed hard through his nose and took long draughts from his canteen. He glanced over at Mad and saw the adventurer damp with sweat and weary in his own way, but nonetheless smiling as he talked about this and that.

    ¡°Adheim is far from the coast,¡± Mad said, ¡°but what made it valuable across so many cultures, apart from its lumber and its gold, was its mithril. There are a handful of mines in the world and they are carefully guarded. If Adheim¡¯s mine still produced ore, the Atilonians would have sent the Sixth Fleet and reduced Adheim to rubble. No dungeon break needed.¡±

    Mithril. Zenos was familiar with the supreme metal. It was second only to Adamantine in sheer strength, but it was lighter than copper and just as easy to refine. In the demon emperor¡¯s world, the dwarfs controlled the mithril mines. After the elves were subdued, the raw superiority of mithril made conquest of the dwarfs his next priority. That was how the Demon Empire clashed with the dwarf kingdom, Golud Baradash, and how he met its prince, Balagrim Dazka.

    ¡°Am I boring you?¡± Mad asked. ¡°You¡¯re just¡­ staring.¡±

    Zenos blinked. ¡°No,¡± he said and shook his head. ¡°I was just thinking about the dwarfs.¡±

    ¡°Dwarfs?¡±

    Zenos gestured beside his knee. ¡°Short, bearded,¡± he said. ¡°Quiet, irritable, angry, but glad-hearted. Dwarfs.¡±

    ¡°Short and bearded,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos nodded and stared out from the copse, over the meadow of green grass that ran before him. They met on a similar field, a battlefield, where beautiful grass had turned to mud, and corpses of the Demon Army piled at the shields of dwarf shieldbreakers.

    Heavily armored, strapped in axes and knives, Balagrim led his troop of elite shieldbreakers through the center of the demon emperor¡¯s line. Not arrows or magic could stop them, for Balagrim had the Eyes of the Warrior and they deflected all harm. Zenos had pushed back the main dwarfen host, but the shieldbreakers soldiered on. Even when they were bogged in demon warriors, they locked their shields together, and held their ground while Balagrim cut a swath toward the demon emperor.

    Balagrim¡¯s orange, double-braided beard was soaked in blood. His eyes were red and they burned with hateful magic. Presently, Zenos¡¯ hand fell to his side and gripped the air where a sword had once hung from his hip. For centuries that encounter remained his closest brush with death.

    ¡°Well enough to move on?¡± Mad asked. ¡°The sun is low and we need to make it to the first campsite.¡±

    Zenos capped his canteen. ¡°How far off is it?¡± he asked, placed the canteen in his bag.

    Mad smiled.

    The pair continued through the meadow and back into the forest. When it became too dark to see the trail, Mad stopped Zenos with his hand and set down his backpack. He retrieved a knife and pulled forward his long ponytail of black hair.

    ¡°Cutting your hair?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°You said you wanted to be an adventurer?¡± Mad asked back, his grin faint in the night. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a lesson now. Magic is everything and an adventurer is nothing without it.¡±

    Mad severed a strand of hair with the blade. ¡°Anima, Level 1.¡±

    White light, bright and cold like the dawn, shined from the hanging strand. Its end lifted up and Mad released it, so that it would float on its own volition. ¡°We¡¯re a bit east of the campsite,¡± Mad said to the strand. ¡°Do you mind helping us find it?¡±

    The strand made no sound, but it glided onward by graceful undulations, as comfortable as an eel in water. Mad flashed a thumbs-up to Zenos, stowed his knife, and pulled up his backpack. He carried on a few steps down the trail, then turned back. Zenos hadn¡¯t moved at all.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°You¡¯re a necromancer,¡± he said.

    Mad smiled and continued on the trail. Zenos followed shortly after.

    Later they arrived at a dirt clearing surrounded by thick conifers. The ground had been packed many times over by hikers, and appeared recently used; there were coals in a pit of round stones. The strand of hair, whose light they followed to find the site, tied itself in a bow in the branches overhead. Mad set down his backpack and got to setting up in the eerie glow.

    Zenos removed his bag and picked out a spot by the fire pit. He unlatched the bedroll from the bottom of the bag and spread it on the ground. Mad started the fire and the pair sat across from one another. They watched its flickering flame.

    Zenos realized he hadn¡¯t spoken to Mad since he¡¯d cast anima; since he called Mad a necromancer. It wasn¡¯t out of loathing. Magic was rare before the seal was broken, he thought. What is it like now? Could it be so commonplace, where it powers boats, and enchants hair? In all the world, I was the only sorcerer to manipulate the dead, and by the Reaping, just a fraction. Anima¡­ it¡¯s a spell that was in my tomes, but I couldn¡¯t cast it.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not telling you,¡± Mad said. ¡°About my class. I figured you knew, but that was foolish of me. Now that I think about it, I don¡¯t know why I thought that way.¡±

    ¡°Knew what?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not Bastilhasian,¡± Mad said with a thin smile. He didn¡¯t raise his head to look at Zenos, but watched the fire with glassy eyes.

    Zenos watched him. ¡°Then, what are you?¡±

    ¡°Echokhet.¡±

    Orange light fluctuated in Zenos¡¯ eyes. By his sight, he knew Mad hadn¡¯t told the whole truth.

    ¡°Would you tell me now where you came from?¡± Mad asked, looked up from the fire. ¡°You look like you¡¯re from Bastilhas, but apart from your eyes, it¡¯s your cluelessness that makes me wonder if you¡¯re from Adohas at all. At first, I thought you were just shy, but I think you¡¯re serious. You say strange things, you know?¡±

    ¡°Strange things?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t been to the dungeon,¡± Mad said. ¡°But you already know what¡¯s inside.¡±

    ¡°Dwarfs.¡± Zenos¡¯ face hardened.

    ¡°The guild calls them golems, but when you said that word, it felt true to me.¡±

    The pair returned to looking at the fire.

    ¡°I won¡¯t keep any secrets from you, Zenos,¡± Mad said after a time. ¡°We¡¯ll be camping together for a month, and then, maybe fighting together. I respect the choice you made by not leaving, but I still don¡¯t understand why.

    ¡°Why follow me?¡±

    I could tell him everything now and there¡¯s much to say, Zenos thought. I could tell him about the Demon Empire, my world, and my conquest. I could tell him about the gods that were sealed, and the battle I fought. How I died. I could tell him about the Arkitects. I could say that I¡¯m a Player, that his world is a game like my own, and that he is certainly an NPC. Non-Player Character.

    Ghost had done the same to him. It was liberating, but it left a wound that couldn¡¯t heal. It would be better if the NPCs of Mad¡¯s world, Adohas, didn¡¯t struggle with questions that had no answer.

    ¡°I¡¯m from another world,¡± Zenos said. ¡°It was in my world that I first died, before I woke up in yours; in a bedroom of the guildhall. I thought I could help you.¡±

    I¡¯ll trade one half-truth for another.

    ¡°Weird how that¡¯s the only thing that makes sense,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not telling you earlier,¡± Zenos said, ¡°but I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of you.¡±

    Mad smiled a little more. ¡°I¡¯m used to it.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re Echokhet?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°The Echokhet are¡­ the children of Chotokhet and Rukhet. Two-thousand years ago, Achlesial killed Chotokhet, or so the story goes. We appeared sometime after with strange magic.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Zenos said with rounded eyes.

    Mad pointed at the strand that glowed overhead. ¡°Necromancy,¡± he said. ¡°The common myth is that my ancestors drank Chotokhet¡¯s blood. That is why our connection to mana is perverse. Among the Echokhet, there are many kinds of spellcasters, but they are all necromancers one way or another. We have a connection to the dead that¡¯s difficult to explain.¡±

    ¡°So, they fear you.¡±

    Mad made that somber smile. He folded his arms over his knees and settled his chin on them. ¡°They fear what they believe,¡± he said. ¡°The dead can be a powerful ally. They can kill, they can heal, and they can spy. Rumors start, lines are drawn, one thing leads to another and the Olmenites round us up. There were wars, camps, and prejudice, but it¡¯s worse than that.¡± Mad pulled at his cheek. ¡°Not every brown man is an Echokhet, but every Echokhet has brown skin. Many have been killed on that evidence alone.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be angry?¡± Zenos asked. Mad looked him in the eyes. ¡°Whenever I look at you, you¡¯re smiling. Even when you¡¯re sad.¡±

    Mad looked at the glowing strand. Its light had faded, but it still glimmered in the branches above. ¡°It¡¯s been nearly a year since I decided to smile. I didn¡¯t want to live with more regrets,¡± he said and looked at Zenos again. There were tears pricked in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯d continue, but I don¡¯t want to cry.¡±

    Zenos nodded. The conversation ended there, but they sat a while longer. They said their goodnights, the fire was snuffed, and they turned into their bedrolls. Zenos looked up at the branches, where stars peaked through the dense conifer canopy. The anima strand was depleted.

    It¡¯s a strange world without dwarfs, where gods kill each other, and rare magic prevails in the blood of so many men. Was this the change you wanted, Ghost? Another cycle with as much violence as the last. If we had beaten Achlesial then, could we have stopped it all?

    Zenos raised his hand toward the darkness.

    Why, Ghost, are these worlds created?

    Why do I still exist?

 Chapter 22: Signs of Another World

    Zenos awoke in the blue light of the dawn. His sleep was complicated by dreams of Darigon and his demon lords, but he slept through the night.

    Mad had already packed his bedroll. He had made a stump his seat and was halfway through a trail bar of mixed nuts and honey. ¡°How was your first night on a new world?¡± he asked, wiped his lip with his thumb.

    ¡°A lot¡­ like nights in my own,¡± Zenos said with a yawn. He sat up and began packing the bedroll. ¡°I dream the same and it feels¡­ like I wake up the same.¡±

    It had been, at most, six hours since Zenos turned in. He had hiked through the day and late into the night, and his legs ached terribly. He leaned exhausted to one side while he bound the bedroll. Mad had woke ahead of him, but the seasoned adventurer looked unfazed.

    I should strive for that, Zenos thought. He clipped the bedroll to the bottom of his bag.

    Mad stood, brushed crumbs from his coat. ¡°What sorts of dreams did you have?¡±

    ¡°Dreams of old companions,¡± Zenos said as he stood.

    Mad smiled and nodded. ¡°Those are the best dreams,¡± he said and turned toward the trail. ¡°It¡¯s about another day¡¯s hike to get up Mount Adderhorn, then we can settle in for a while. How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡°Tired,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll take as many breaks as you need.¡± Mad pulled the backpack up on his back. All the packages, ornaments and utensils clattered together. ¡°But if we start now, we¡¯ll make it before sundown.¡±

    Zenos nodded, but before they set out, his stomach gurgled. He hadn¡¯t eaten since yesterday¡¯s lunch. He looked at Mad.

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait.¡± Mad chuckled.

    Zenos set his bag down to search its pockets and found a paper-wrapped trail bar of his own. He peeled back the wrapper and crunched down.

    [Honey-Nut Survival Bar] a notification read. [Quality: 50]

    An icon appeared in the upper right-hand corner of Zenos¡¯ HUD.

    [Well-Fed: 500 Constitution. Buff Duration: 8 hours]

    The bar¡¯s sweet flavor, combined with satiating almond nuts, did make for a tasty snack, but it was the buff that surprised Zenos. I only had 100 constitution to begin with. One bite of this bar gave me five times that for a third of a day? The sandwich Mad prepared didn¡¯t buff me at all. He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully.

    In Player Guide parlance, a buff was an effect added by a spell, ability, or item, that increased a characteristic or other statistic in an arbitrary way. They were usually helpful, but rarely permanent. Now that Zenos had tasted the bar, its name was highlighted in a holographic window whenever he viewed it. Its quality and buff were indicated there as well.

    Should I be taking bites out everything I see? he wondered. Or maybe it only added the buff because its quality was high enough.

    Since Constitution affected his maximum health pool at a rate of 0.8 points of health per point of constitution, that mouthful of honey and almond had given Zenos 400 extra HP. It occurred to him that if one bite was enough for a buff, it would be wise to save the rest of the bar for later. By the time he had that idea, he had already eaten the entire bar.

    Zenos stuffed the wrapper back into his bag. When he stood, he noticed his aches were gone. He shook his leg and flexed his arm; all reactions, from his head to his toes, felt better¡ªsturdier. He had tangible energy that couldn¡¯t be explained by abstract digestion.

    Mad watched him a nearby tree. He leaned on the trunk, arms folded, as Zenos paced around. ¡°You¡¯re looking lively,¡± he said.

    ¡°That bar was good!¡± Zenos said. The fatigue of the morning had left him entirely.

    ¡°Lowether made them himself,¡± Mad said. ¡°He tells me it¡¯s his secret recipe, but I think it¡¯s just almonds and sweetener.¡±

    One bite and I already feel so powerful. Is this the power of the Player System? Zenos clenched his hand into a fist. And if I were to level up and add new stats, how much greater could I become?

    He looked at Mad. Although his full name was displayed on the health bar above his head, his HP value was still obscured by question marks.

    I wonder how much health Mad has.

    Mad blinked and his smile eroded in confusion. ¡°Something the matter?¡± he asked.

    Zenos shook his head. ¡°No, just lost in thought. Are you ready to go?¡±

    Mad brightened up and tugged on his shoulder strap. ¡°If you¡¯re ready, let¡¯s be off.¡±

    The pair set out on the trail with Mad leading the way and Zenos close behind. They watched their steps down narrow paths, walked over wood boards laid on a shallow marsh, and passed through a stand of birch trees that took autumn colors of red and orange. Good sunshine, even on a cloudy day, and a cold breeze made the journey enjoyable in their own ways, but it was Zenos¡¯ high constitution that made it easy.

    Eventually the trail widened and merged into what could be called a road, but far from paved, it was brown and muddy. Trees had been chopped to pieces or stripped to their trunks, and piled on the roadside. Wires crossed the forest canopy and connected machines big and small, with arms for holding and blades for cutting.

    ¡°This road goes all the way to the shore,¡± Mad said as he led Zenos beneath a rusted arm. ¡°When the mithril ran out, they repurposed the mountain road for lumber. It wasn¡¯t profitable, though, and work stopped altogether when the Atilonians started sinking transports. You might be the first visitor it¡¯s had in a year, at least.¡±

    ¡°How do these machines work?¡± Zenos asked.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Mana engines,¡± he answered. ¡°But you might want to talk to a real engineer for the details. All I know is the engines turn a generator, which provides electricity for the mithril fibercoils.¡±

    ¡°Mithril fibercoils?¡±

    Mad stopped and turned. Zenos was growing accustomed to the routine: He asks a dumb question and Mad stops to look at him with a paternal smile.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t have fibercoils in your world?¡± Mad asked. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a Bastilhasian invention, though you¡¯ll hear disputes from time to time. Edwindy will always claim they invented in first. Well, a mithril wire contracts when you run an electric current through it.¡± He flexed his arm and demonstrated the concept. ¡°Depending on how you use that electricity, you can create all sorts of muscle-like reactions.¡±

    Zenos nodded and Mad turned toward the road. After a moment of walking Zenos opened his mouth. ¡°What, exactly, is electricity?¡±

    ¡°Did you have lightning on your world?¡± the patient adventurer asked.

    Their hike continued like that for some time, with questions and answers, and answers themselves leading to new questions. As they made progress up the slope, Zenos noticed how moss had grown on the machines and trees had tangled new roots into their idle treads. In some places the forest had spread into the road and reclaimed a portion of it for themselves. In time, the scar that men had cut through the hills would disappear, and their inventions would sink into the earth.

    ¡°That¡¯s the way things should be,¡± Mad remarked. ¡°We borrow what we need from the forest and in return, when our time is done, it takes us and all that we made. We disappear, first into history, and then we¡¯re forgotten entirely. That is the trade we make for civilization. But, what if that system breaks? What if the reverse were to happen?¡±

    ¡°A civilization reclaiming the forest?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°Thousands of years ago, the natural order was¡­ damaged,¡± Mad said. ¡°Perhaps it came to be when Achlesial struck down Chotokhet, or maybe their battle was just a symptom of a sickness that pervaded the natural order. Even you, Zenos, are a sign that the just and ordinary way of living¡ªwhat laws all life must obey¡ªhave broken down.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Mad stopped, but didn¡¯t answer immediately. He stood ahead of Zenos; head hidden behind his backpack. ¡°What times do we live in, when the dead cross into the world of the living?¡± he asked.

    Zenos swallowed, but said nothing. Mad started walking with Zenos behind him.

    ¡°The Adventurer¡¯s Guild exists to protect the natural order,¡± Mad continued. ¡°Dungeons are places that defy it. They spread like a cancer beneath the ground and erupt in boils that destroy the wilderness. Wherever there¡¯s a dungeon, there will be monsters, and they will slaughter anything they find until a wasteland of their dark civilization remains.¡±

    ¡°But you are necromancer,¡± Zenos said. ¡°Is meddling with life and death not perverting that order as well?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t force any spirits to do my bidding, but rely on their good will to help me when I need aid,¡± he said, but stopped again. ¡°It¡¯s true, though. I am a symptom of the sickness, like you are. And I can do good with that power, like you could do good with yours. Don¡¯t you feel that way about those strange eyes?¡± Mad turned to smile at him. ¡°I have noticed how they shine sometimes. I suspect there¡¯s more to them then you¡¯ve let on.¡±

    ¡°A little glow and you think they¡¯re all that special?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad laughed. ¡°A man runs headlong into perilous danger, without even a sword in his hand, because he thinks he can help. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re crazy, so if you have a trick to play, I hope it¡¯s a good one.¡±

    That was the last stop they made on the road, before the mud turned to paved bricks, and they arrived at the outskirts of what Mad called the Dungeon. Zenos¡¯ eyes rounded and his voice was trapped in his throat. Ahead were ruins in the hillside, black and brown, and covered in weeds. They appeared to emerge from the earth and rise at strange angles, such that doorways were horizontal, and dark halls ended in rock. And all around were statues, not of men, but of dwarfs. They looked passive in their petrified forms, where they had their hands close to their sides wherever they emerged from the mud and rock.

    ¡°What do they look like to you?¡± Mad asked as they walked in the cool shadow of the mountain. ¡°Dwarfs?¡±

    ¡°Dwarfs,¡± Zenos uttered. He searched the ruins, scanned for any identifier that might prove they were from his world.

    ¡°Do you recognize them?¡±

    ¡°No, but they are dwarfs,¡± he said again. ¡°They are dwarfs.¡±

    And then there was a whistle, like a flute. It was followed shortly after by another of a deeper note, and another, lighter than the last. Zenos saw that the eyes of the dwarf statues would glow red and they would emit a tone. It continued across the mountain side wherever the statues were, with no obvious pattern. Sometimes one would whistle, then several would sound together. They would do it close together or far apart.

    ¡°What are they doing?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°Nobody knows,¡± Mad said. ¡°They make this activity, such lights and sounds, only when adventurers are nearby. That is, only when magic is nearby. Some Atilonians have used this to justify attacks on the guild.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°That the guild is somehow responsible.¡±

    Mad led Zenos to the top of the road, where it turned straight into the mountainside. In the sheer cliff was a door, fashioned into the face of a bearded dwarf. On either side of the door were towers carved of stone, marked with parapets and dead-fire holes. Zenos recognized it as the entrance to a fortress, but the dwarfs would build many homes wherever the mountains were tall. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was from his world.

    ¡°We will camp here in front of the door,¡± Mad said. ¡°I always store the tents nearby. We¡¯ll setup and make this our base for the month.¡±

    ¡°Why not use one of these houses for shelter?¡± Zenos asked and pointed to the low-rise buildings that looked most complete.

    Mad shook his head and set down his backpack. ¡°Shadows, my friend. Shadows move inside dungeons, creep into the mind, and affect trespassers; adventurers, especially.¡±

    The pair used the last of their daylight to setup their tents and prepare a new fire pit. Mad gathered some wood and Zenos arranged loose bricks in a circle. With a spark and some kindling they lit their fire by nightfall.

    ¡°We¡¯ll collect some water and ingredients for a real meal tomorrow,¡± Mad said, ¡°but for tonight, another bar will have to do.¡±

    Zenos didn¡¯t mind another survival bar. He sat by his open tent and stared inward, searched for answers to the ruins around him. My world is gone, he thought, that was the ultimate function of the configuration spire, but Ghost was unclear on what would happen after I died.

    Mad sat across from Zenos on a wood stump. ¡°Does seeing all this shock you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It does,¡± Zenos said passively. He was deep in his thoughts.

    ¡°When you described dwarfs, well, they are the spitting image of short and bearded,¡± Mad said. ¡°Did they make noises like this in your world?¡±

    ¡°No, they did not,¡± Zenos said. ¡°But could be great singers.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    The conversation would have ended there, but Zenos perked his head up. He looked intensely at Mad, his reptilian eyes focused in diamonds. ¡°I have a question,¡± he said.

    How did it slip my mind?

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Mad said with a smile. He had answered many questions already.

    ¡°Do you know anyone called the Demon Emperor?¡±

    Mad¡¯s eyes widened and then, slowly, his face hardened. His smile faded and he looked down again at the flames. ¡°Where did you hear a name like that?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I heard it once before,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad crunched an empty wrapper in his fist. ¡°It¡¯s considered a children¡¯s story by some, and heresy¡ªpunishable by death¡ªin Atilonia, so don¡¯t repeat it outside of good company,¡± he said. ¡°The story goes that mankind waged war against the Pantheon and tried to usurp their throne in the heavens. They were nearly successful, until Achlesial led the twelve in a counterattack which defeated the armies of man. They killed all but one, a man that refused to yield: The Demon Emperor. To punish him, or defeat him, Achlesial destroyed the world itself. The story goes the Demon Emperor did not fall until the last piece of rock disintegrated at his feet.¡±

    Zenos¡¯ heart palpitated. He swallowed the lump in his throat. ¡°They¡¯ll kill you for repeating that?¡±

    ¡°The Atilonians adopted some of that myth into their religious scriptures,¡± Mad said. ¡°They believe that if mankind was defeated by the gods, then we must serve them. Most believe the same, to varying degrees. To suggest otherwise is often punishable. The real danger, however, is that some even believe it¡¯s literal. They call themselves the Knights of the Devil King. They believe that the Pantheon of Eleven will destroy our world, Adohas.

    ¡°They believe the Demon Emperor will return.¡±

 Chapter 23: Automaton Blues

    ¡°Today we start your training. You¡¯re probably eager to crack monster heads, but you need to understand the basics. We¡¯ll begin with a lecture.¡±

    Mad stood ahead of Zenos, his hands folded atop a tall, gnarled stick. It looked like a staff, but Zenos had watched him drag it up the hill along with the rest of the firewood. That morning Mad had started holding it like a real weapon, and the smiling adventurer began to look like a homeless wizard.

    Zenos sat with a pouch of mixed nuts in his hand, he was still eating breakfast.

    ¡°I know how to fight,¡± he said.

    ¡°You may know how to fight your way, but you don¡¯t know how to fight the adventurer¡¯s way,¡± Mad said, knocked the staff end on the brick road for emphasis. ¡°Dungeons are extremely dangerous. The guild has spent millennia perfecting its strategy for raiding, engaging, and clearing every dungeon regularly.¡±

    Zenos crunched on his pecans as Mad raised leaned the staff on his shoulder and paced around.

    ¡°Now,¡± Mad said. ¡°Listen closely. A raid is formed of twenty to forty adventurers. Each raid is comprised of an equal number of five-man teams. A twenty-man raid will have four teams and a forty-man raid will have eight teams. Understand?¡±

    Zenos nodded. ¡°I can do math,¡± he said.

    ¡°Raids will usually be arranged around one or more tanks that draw the attention of monsters,¡± Mad continued. ¡°And those tanks are supported by healers who will keep them in the fight for as long as possible. Tanks are heavily armored men, but they are slow, and if they exhausted themselves attacking, they would have no mana for their defenses. Therefore, killing monsters falls on the damage dealers, or the DPS.¡±

    Zenos frowned. ¡°What does D.P.S. mean?¡± he asked. He had some apprehension for acronyms.

    ¡°Damage-per-Second,¡± Mad answered, planted his staff in the road. ¡°It¡¯s a value of how quickly you can kill a monster, calculated by the guild¡¯s master arithmagicians. There are many different kinds of DPS across the guild, those classes based on spell craft, melee fighting, and fighting at a distance.¡±

    Zenos raised his hand. ¡°What are classes?¡±

    Mad scratched his face. ¡°Well, you could say they¡¯re a broad classification of what you excel in. A wizard does not necessarily focus on magic, but they are good at it, and being known as a wizard can help you find a place in a dungeon raid.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so it¡¯s an administrative title,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°In a manner of speaking, but you should understand the guild does not select your class, and the adventurer may have just as little say,¡± Mad said. ¡°Remember, I am Echokhet, which means I was born a necromancer before having ever seen a class-discovery altar. Some outside of the Echokhet are born with their classes, and those adventurers sometimes form great houses. If you ever travel to the mainland, you¡¯ll encounter families of Warriors, Dragoons, and Marksmen. Heritage can be a powerful component in defining someone¡¯s class.¡±

    ¡°So, who decides what class you are?¡± Zenos asked. ¡°Do some not like their class?¡±

    ¡°The one that chooses¡­¡± Mad¡¯s voice trailed away. He looked at Zenos with glassy eyes and a thin smile. ¡°Yes, not everyone is comfortable with their class. They may drop out of adventuring, but many stay in the guild, either for the money or the protection. The one that chooses, though, the Echokhet call Khet. The Atilonians call her Gaia.¡±

    Zenos¡¯ eyes rounded. ¡°Gaia?¡±

    Mad nodded. ¡°Gaia, Khet, Eve, or Draya, those are just some of her names,¡± he said. ¡°She is the mother of the Pantheon, the mother to magic, and therefore to adventurers. She is also involved in dungeons, somehow.¡±

    ¡°Was she not banished in your world?¡±

    ¡°She was,¡± Mad said and sighed. He looked out over the tree line, toward the horizon where the sky met a distant sea. ¡°The Atilonians would never blame Achlesial, but it¡¯s held among the Echokhet that the Pantheon¡¯s betrayal of Chotokhet weakened the bonds that prevented Khet from interfering in the physical world.¡±

    Zenos clutched his hands in his lap.

    ¡°If there is disharmony in heaven,¡± Mad continued, ¡°there is disharmony in the land, so the saying goes.¡±

    ¡°Do the Echokhet worship Gaia¡ªKhet?¡±

    Mad shook his head, set crestfallen eyes on Zenos. ¡°She is loved, because she is the mother of our father, but she is also hated for all the havoc she can bring. Yet, we are filial to her. It is a complex relationship.¡±

    Adohas has had its own encounters with the Director, it seems. Zenos turned his head down in thought. I doubt Achlesial had anything to do with her interference, because as Ghost said, the Director is everywhere. But something must have changed¡­. She would manipulate me whenever I strayed from her pre-defined scripts. Could this world have a script of its own?The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Am I losing you?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos perked up from his seat, eyes open. ¡°No, I¡¯m listening.¡±

    Mad made a slight smile. ¡°Well, please think about your role as an adventurer,¡± he said. ¡°I do not know whether you will be a tank, a healer, or a DPS, and it¡¯s possible you could serve many roles in your service to the Guild, but to fight as an adventurer means you adhere to that system.¡±

    ¡°When will I know?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°Either you use an identifying altar, or you discover what you are by the providence of the gods,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s all for your lecture, so if you¡¯re ready, we¡¯ll move on to more practical training.¡±

    Zenos blinked. ¡°Practical?¡±

    Mad made a big smile.

    The rest of the morning was spent at a dirt track in the woods. As Mad put it, ¡®Adventurers had to stay active before raids,¡¯ and a course was cleared for jogging. Mad made him run laps, do push-ups, and crunches. By the end, it was just past noon and the sun was high overhead. Zenos panted with his coat heaped in his lap. He was in his white, buttoned-down long sleeve, damp with sweat and dusted by pine needles.

    As long as I¡¯m well-fed, I can deal with this, he thought. But my stats aren¡¯t increasing at all.

    ¡°Feeling good?¡± Mad asked from his perch on a boulder above the track.

    Zenos raised his arm and waved with the back of his hand. He said nothing.

    ¡°If you¡¯re still feeling up to it,¡± Mad said, ¡°we could move on to a little combat training.¡±

    Combat! I can¡¯t improve with exercise, but I can level up. In that case¡­ I have to kill something. For a moment, Zenos saw the top of that dark hill, where he had first killed Atilonians. He imagined the leaves of the black oak were painted in blood. As long as it¡¯s not an NPC.

    ¡°What sort of combat?!¡± he shouted from the trackside.

    ¡°Automatons!¡±

    Mad led Zenos down the hill, away from the track. They walked late into the day, through the woods until the path became so obstructed by yellow leaves, it was hidden entirely. Still, Mad knew the way, and guided Zenos into a hidden valley of white-wood birch trees.

    ¡°Here they are,¡± Mad said, and pointed with his improvised staff.

    Zenos stepped forward. Ahead of him, scattered alone or in small groups, were men of copper and bronze. Those that stood upright were approximately seven feet tall, but the majority had slumped, and their long arms dangled to the ground. The closest one was moving and although it was covered in moss and green woodland growth, it still gathered yellow leaves between its simple three-digit hands. Zenos watched it deposit the leaves at the feet of other automatons, and in that way some piles had grown so tall that they reached their heads.

    ¡°These are automatons?¡± he asked.

    Mad nodded. ¡°The Adheimers used them for labor in the dungeon,¡± he said, ¡°but they weren¡¯t built by the Bastilhasians, or the Archurians, or the Olemenites. They are part of the dungeon in a way, and they¡¯re resistant to the dungeon¡¯s corruption.

    ¡°Usually.¡±

    Zenos glanced at Mad and the seasoned adventurer smiled at him. ¡°These ones have wandered into this valley,¡± Mad said. ¡°Since they¡¯re harmless, nobody bothers with them, but that makes them good target practice.¡±

    Zenos nodded. ¡°What do you want me to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a test,¡± Mad said and pointed at his own chest. ¡°Bring me the crystal heart of one automaton. It¡¯s a gem in their breast; you¡¯ll know it when you see it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even have a weapon,¡± Zenos said and looked at the automatons. ¡°And you want me to defeat a metal man?¡±

    Mad nodded and placed a knife in his hand. ¡°You know how to use that, right?¡±

    Zenos looked at the knife, it was the same seven-inch blade Mad always used. The edge was worn, but the leather handle fit well in his grip, and when he examined it, a notification appeared.

    [Friend¡¯s Trusted Knife. Quality: ???? Damage: 10] it read. There were other attributes, but they were also hidden behind question marks.

    Zenos closed the notification and nodded to Mad. ¡°This will be more than enough,¡± he said.

    Mad stepped back. ¡°The automatons will be passive until you touch them, so try not to aggravate more than one at a time,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll be watching from here. Go on, have at it.¡±

    A breeze blew through the valley and Zenos started toward the automatons, crunched the leaves beneath his boots. He twirled the knife in his right hand and picked his target: The moving automaton he had first laid eyes on. It made meandering journeys away from the others, so he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about space. Although he couldn¡¯t tell how much HP it had, he could see the name [Automaton] displayed in white above its filled health bar.

    When he was a few feet away, Zenos held the knife close to his stomach, gripped it with both hands, and charged the automaton. He struck its thigh with the tip of the blade as it bent down for leaves.

    [0 damage dealt.]

    The automaton dropped its leaves and stood straight. Zenos heard the clockwork machinations ticking within its chest spin loud. Its head cranked and turned sharply, and Zenos saw its featureless face first hand. It had no eyes, just depressions where the sockets would be in its smooth, bronze mask.

    Run, Zenos thought.

    The automaton rotated in a flash, swung its long arms with reckless abandon.

    Run!

    Zenos turned and slipped on the leaves, dropped below cleaving arms. That fluke of luck saved him, but the automaton had already raised both arms over its head. Zenos bounced up and narrowly avoided the pummel that launched dirt through the air.

    Meanwhile Mad had found a nice tree to lean on while Zenos was chased around the valley.

    This dagger is useless! Zenos shouted inside. He ducked beneath low-hanging branches and weaved between bushes, and the automaton plowed through them all. And there¡¯s no opportunity to attack, the automaton just spins whenever it wants!

    Soon he was cornered, chased to the end of the valley where the hill was too steep to climb. There were rocks to his left and right, and vegetation all around. His only way out was through the automaton behind him.

    I can¡¯t beat it without taking a hit. Zenos panted as he turned to face his dogged pursuer. There are gaps in those bronze plates. If I could just pry the plate open, I could get the gem, but I¡¯ll get hit. I can¡¯t beat it without taking a hit. Not without taking a hit¡­. His eyes flit around his HUD. He checked his HP, which was at 80 after his morning buff had ended, and he wondered if he would have enough health to absorb the injury.

    How much damage could it possibly do? he wondered and turned his knife in his hand. Just one hit, but if I can fit this blade through its armor, I¡¯ll have leverage. I can win.

    He charged. The automaton spun, but it swung its long arms early, and at the end of its spin its torso was locked to its gimbal. Just one hit, Zenos psyched himself, just one, just one!

    The knife slid straight through a vertical gap in the automaton¡¯s chest and Zenos¡¯ eyes lit up.

    [0 damage dealt.]

    Zenos pushed on the handle, but the armor wouldn¡¯t budge. He glanced up and saw an arm fall toward him.

    [Your shoulder was hit for 700 non-lethal damage.]

    [You are unconscious.]

 Chapter 24: Mountain Son

    ¡®Twas late spring when the snow blocking the southern pass melted. First, the elves came, and in great numbers. They were the first to warn us, but we didn¡¯t listen. Then, the hill forts reported movement in the great basin; humans were gathering. Suddenly, the barons of the hills gathered and made their demands. For fear of raids, and for retribution of settling near our land, King Dazka was to raise a Doom¡ªan army¡ªand make a pre-emptive strike. They hoped a strike from the hammer of Old Mountainthrone, as it were, would send them back to the deep woods of the southern lowlands.

    I should ¡®ave never let the Demon Emperor draw my kin from the hills. Dwarfs were long-lived, skilled, and hardy, but few. To train a single dwarf in the way of the shieldwall and the ancient rites of war would take twenty-five years, at the least. All the while, the humans could throw their young at us, and even if we claimed five men to a head, a single dwarf was a loss that could hardly be replaced.

    We made a terrible mistake.

    ¡®Twas late in the fall, when my kin stocked the halls for winter, that I first heard of Marad Ka. They were the hill fort that protected the southern pass. If they were to fall, the kingdom of Golud Baradash would be exposed. And so, for its defense, the king had assigned a legion of 20,000 dwarfs. He further assigned a hundred ballista divisions and thirty-two of our mithril shieldbreakers. Two weeks before the first snow and we ¡®ad heard nothing. One week before the snow and the report was placed in my hands.

    I remember a long hallway. ¡®Twas surreal to walk past the statues of ancient legends; kings, queens, and heroes, and wonder if that history had come to an end. I found King Dazka on the Overlook; a terrace cut in the face of the mountain. He was an ancient dwarf, revered by all the kin of the Daz Baradash. The sun was setting, but he ¡®ad his eyes on the horizon. There was a hand on his great triple-braided white beard, and the other on the pommel of the axe at his side.

    ¡°Father,¡± I said and knelt before him. I presented the parchment with both hands, and my head down low. ¡°Marad Ka has fallen.¡±

    ¡°I see that,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Raise your head, my son, and look to the south.¡±

    There was smoke on the horizon, but not of Marad Ka. The humans were advancing!

    ¡°No!¡± I shouted. In my shock I jumped to my feet, grabbed the balcony railing. My report fluttered from my hand and was carried by the mountain wind.

    ¡°They want to push their advantage,¡± my father said in his slow manner. The king of mighty Golud Baradash may ¡®ave appeared stoic, but I knew him better. Rage burned in his eyes. ¡°They will attack us again, even if the snow comes and traps them in the mountains.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I looked at my father. He was clad in the ancient armor of the Ka¡ªthe Throne. It was red adamantine plate, gilded with mithril that sparkled with effervescence. He wore not his crown, but his tall plate helm. His battle mask laid on the round table beside him.

    ¡°You mean to fight him?¡±

    ¡°In one week,¡± my father said. ¡°I¡¯ve already given the order. I will gather the Dron Ka Doom and go to battle.¡±

    ¡°Before the snows come?¡± I asked, red eyes round like saucers. ¡°What if they escape?¡±

    ¡°They should ¡®ave the chance,¡± he said. ¡°Cornered humans fight like rats. If we shock them, they will flee back through the pass, and that will be another year to seal the five holds.¡±

    ¡°And if you fail?¡±

    My father¡¯s face became very grim. ¡°Do you believe the Demon Emperor to be so powerful?¡±

    ¡°Marad Ka¡ª!¡±

    ¡°A fluke!¡± he shouted. ¡°I wish to go to the field myself. I will settle this embarrassment before it shames us further.¡±

    ¡°Then, let me!¡±

    My father¡¯s anger subsided instantly, like a break in a blizzard. I was his only son and the lineage of Golud Baradash royalty hinged on my survival. I was precious to him for that reason, but not that alone.

    Father set his gauntlet on my shoulder. ¡°My life I have given to the kingdom, but you have not sworn the oath,¡± he said. ¡°In a hundred years you might be ready, but I¡­ cannot risk you yet.¡±

    ¡°I ¡®ave the eyes,¡± I said.

    His eyes welled with tears. That old dwarf was hard faced, but he could not deny my words. I had been born with the Ron Ker¡ªthe Rage Eyes. They were eyes of great myth and folklore among the dwarfs, and fabled to appear in an age where the kingdom faced crisis.

    ¡°I have proven myself, ¡®ave I not?¡± I asked, placed my hands on his sturdy pauldrons. ¡°I have been prince for a hundred years and always been your right hand. I have been yer Hammerer, yer Judge, and yer Marshal. I ¡®ave fought in the coliseum for fifty years. Give me this chance.¡±

    He hesitated, held his breath. I knew what he wanted, but he couldn¡¯t say it.

    ¡°I know you take this seriously,¡± I said. ¡°For you to don the armor, you must be worried. You must be ready to die for the kingdom.¡±

    He tucked his lips and turned away. ¡°I will not lose you to that scum.¡±

    ¡°This is what my eyes were for!¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± He pounded the balcony, shook the stone. ¡°I know yer not a boy, but these wars¡­ they are meant to be fought by fathers, not sons.¡±

    My hands fell stiff at my side.

    ¡°If you were to fall in battle, the kingdom would crumble,¡± I said. ¡°Let me go, father. Take a Doom west, to Shuk-ilkron. Protect the deep¡ªthe thol of our kin¡ªand I will find you there. I will bring you victory.¡±

    I could see the shimmer of my own red eyes in the sheen of his armor. I ¡®ad ferocious magic, that he couldn¡¯t deny. I know it pained him, but it was the only decision he could make. A father wanted the best for their child, for them to be safe, and for their destiny to be fulfilled.

    My destiny was on the battlefield.

    I left early next morning, at the head of a Doom a fifty-thousand strong. At the mouth of the southern pass, where it opened to the grassland of Amud Valley, we would strike. Sunder the earth with our hammers, break the sky with the sound of our battle cries; split the ¡®eavens and earth! Whatever may come, I swore there would be blood. For Golud Baradash, the Doom of Balagrim Dazka¡ªMountainthrone¡ªmarched forward.

    The dwarfs marched to war!

 Chapter 25: Seasoning Adventurer

    Zenos opened his eyes. A pale, crescent moon glowed in the night sky. He¡¯d been tucked into his bedroll and laid out under the stars. A damp towel was folded on his head and a fire was crackling close by. He smelled meat.

    What was that dream? he wondered. It felt like a fantasy, but at the same time¡­.

    Zenos rubbed his fingers thoughtfully in his palm and an idea occurred to him.

    Why am I on the ground?

    He sat up on the bedroll and a sharp pain split his chest. ¡°Agh!¡± he cried and clutched the injury. He saw his shirt had been removed and bandages had been wrapped around his left shoulder. Zenos saw his HP read [80 (79)]. The gray number had fallen below his total health.

    The automaton!

    ¡°Good evening,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos searched for him and winced; again, the shoulder ached. It aggravated him with every turn of his head.

    ¡°You took a bad hit,¡± Mad continued. ¡°Well, everyone takes one from time to time. Just don¡¯t move too quickly and you¡¯ll spring back.¡± He had sat down on a stump across the fire. There was an iron grill over the pit and he appeared to stir a gurgling pot with a ladle.

    A bad hit? Of course it was bad, I was slapped for 700 damage.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me those automatons were that strong,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad flashed a smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He chuckled and focused again on his patient stirring. ¡°They are not full-fledged monsters, but I forgot they can still be dangerous for a novice. We¡¯ll have to work you up to the task.¡±

    Zenos straightened his back and tried to peek into the pot. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he wondered aloud.

    Mad lifted the ladle and revealed the slick lumps of his savory stew. ¡°Dried beef, carrots, potatoes, and some wild cabbage and onion from the hillside,¡± he said as steam wafted from the food. ¡°Mixed with enchanted waters and spices.¡±

    Zenos salivated.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you?¡± Mad grinned and dashed a pouch of spices into the pot.  ¡°I¡¯m Madilhero Endelhar, the Seasoning Adventurer.¡±

    Later, Zenos shoveled down hot stew, spooning a mouthful as fast as he could swallow. [Adventurer¡¯s Respite. Quality: 75. Effect: 800 Strength for 12 hours] a notification read.

    It¡¯s good!Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Mad had turned stringy beef into delightful umami that melted in the mouth. The skinned potatoes, chopped in large chunks, had thickened the hearty broth. Together with the soft carrots and cabbage, the vegetables mixed in the mouth in a medley of seasonal flavors. By the time Zenos had finished his third serving, the warmth of the meal radiated from his core. He felt comfortable in the cold night.

    ¡°Well?¡± Mad asked, sipped from a bowl of his own.

    Zenos lowered an empty bowl to his lap. ¡°You¡¯re really the man that made those sandwiches?¡± He smirked.

    Mad smiled. ¡°With training, you¡¯ll be a top-flight adventurer,¡± he said. ¡°But put in real effort and a ten-year apprenticeship, and I might make you an adequate chef.¡±

    ¡°How old are you anyway?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad hummed thoughtfully, tapped his spoon on his lip. ¡°I¡¯d say¡­ 35 or thereabout?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not sure?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Well, time passes,¡± he said. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s hard to keep track of whichever day it is when you¡¯re camping. You¡¯re in your twenties, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Zenos muttered and made a sly glance to the right. He opened the holographic biography screen.

    It must have looked strange to Mad, as Zenos wiggled his fingers and made careful looks at nothing at all. It wasn¡¯t the weirdest thing about Zenos, however, and the adventurer contentedly continued eating.

    ¡°23,¡± Zenos said. ¡°I¡¯m 23.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re practically a boy,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know, I¡¯m at least¡­ uh¡­¡± He had to count with his fingers. ¡°370?¡±

    Mad¡¯s eyes rounded.

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad shook his head, his surprise passed with the moment. ¡°The greatest wizards can live hundreds of years,¡± he said. ¡°Age-extending magic is rare, but I have heard of it. You act young for a man that''s pushing 400.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Zenos smiled to himself and looked at the bowl in his lap. ¡°I think you act mature for a man that''s only 35.¡±

    ¡°Was it natural to grow so old in your world?¡± Mad asked.

    ¡°The dwarfs had a lifespan as long as 500 years,¡± Zenos said. ¡°And the oldest elves reached the low thousands. Men, however, rarely lived past a hundred or so.¡±

    ¡°So, you were very old,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°But you did die eventually.¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°Was it on a comfortable death bed?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I was lucky for a long time,¡± Zenos said. He shook his head. ¡°That luck ran out.¡±

    Mad chewed slowly. He looked thoughtfully at the stars above. ¡°That''s how life is,¡± he said with a mouthful.

    ¡°And what did my long life mean," Zenos said. "If I can''t beat an automaton in this one? I can''t even judge a man fairly.¡±

    ¡°Did you think my cooking was bad?¡± Mad asked with a smile.

    Zenos blushed and turned his eyes. ¡°I mean, that sandwich¡­¡± he muttered.

    Mad chuckled. ¡°Apology accepted.¡±

    The moon waned among the stars and the fire was doused. A heavy lid was placed on the stew. Zenos turned into his tent for the night and laid on his back in his bedroll, one hand on his chest and the other behind his head. The gray non-lethal damage had counted down until it disappeared, and with it went his pain.

    Although it was late, Zenos stared at the blue screen of his player manual. He examined Anton¡¯s biography more closely and memorized it, so that basic questions wouldn¡¯t catch him unaware.

    Who is this King Kalen Darigon and the ritualist that blinded Anton? he wondered as a scowl etched in his face. What Mad said, about the demon emperor and the Knights of the Devil King¡­ there could only be one explanation: Ghost is in this world. Ghost is here, in Adohas!

    Zenos switched screens to his player manual. He studied and informed himself on its detailed systems. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s planning, but I want no part in it. One day, this voice in my head¡ªthat which reminds me of the one that took a billion lives¡ªwill disappear. With time, all I will hear is Zenos. I will be the demon emperor no longer.

    Would that be okay, everyone?

    Would you let me move on?

 Chapter 26: Bath Magic, and Other Spells for Laundry

    It was Zenos¡¯ second day on the mountain. After a breakfast of left-over stew and exercise at the track, Mad approached him for his next lesson.

    ¡°It¡¯s time to learn about lateral spellcasting,¡± Mad said as he slid down the hill. There were sticks in both his hands.

    ¡°Is that different from regular spellcasting?¡± Zenos asked.

    He had just completed fifty crunches. His cheeks were red and he stank of sweat. Nonetheless, he was happy to do anything else. Mad tossed him a stick and Zenos caught it in the air. It was four-feet long and an inch thick, and mostly straight. It had been stripped of its branches and bark.

    ¡°All adventurers can use magic, and most monsters as well,¡± Mad said. ¡°To fight with magic, you need to think in unconventional ways. No fireballs here and there, you must use your head.¡±

    ¡°I understand how magic works,¡± Zenos said. He swung the stick, twirled it in his hand. It was crude even for practice, but it had good balance from end to end.

    ¡°Well, prove it to me,¡± Mad said and retreated up the track. ¡°I¡¯ll stand back here and you try to charge at me. You can use any counter spells or abilities you know.¡±

    All I have are my Eyes, but would they affect him? Zenos thought. Maybe I should just run at him and see where this is going.

    ¡°Are you ready?!¡± Mad shouted.

    Zenos nodded and again twirled the stick. ¡°Ready.¡±

    ¡°Go!¡±

    Zenos broke into a sprint.

    Mad raised his staff. ¡°Levitate, Level 1!¡± He pounded the ground.

    Zenos slipped upwards and Mad¡¯s spell suspended him a few inches over the track.

    ¡°Mad!¡± he shouted, struggled against the air.

    ¡°Lateral Spellcasting is a thought school based on using fast-casting, low-mana cost spells in unconventional ways,¡± Mad said. There was a big smile on his face. ¡°It does not strictly require a spell to be Level 1, so long as you¡¯re taking advantage of circumstances to give a small spell an out-sized effect.¡±

    Mad knocked his staff on the ground and Zenos was dropped on his stomach. As he clambered to his feet, dirt, pine needles, and filth had clung to his gray pants and white long sleeve. He brushed himself down.

    ¡°All you did was make me float,¡± Zenos said, wiped dirt from his cheek.

    ¡°With three words I stopped your movement and made you an excellent target for my party members,¡± Mad said. ¡°Now, go back to where you were standing and try again.¡±

    Zenos sighed and returned to his starting position.

    I¡¯ll use the Eyes, he decided. The moment he opens his mouth, I¡¯ll give him an order, and even if he resists it, it¡¯ll throw him off. He twirled the long stick in his hand. Once more.

    ¡°Go!¡±

    Zenos sprinted, his predatory eyes tightly focused. Mad said nothing. The smiling necromancer stood ahead; his eyes were shut even as Zenos closed in.

    Could he know about the Eyes?

    The idea flit through Zenos¡¯ mind. The Eyes of the Emperor were restricted by access and availability to other eyes. An opponent with open eyes and direct eye contact was the easiest to control, whereas those with closed eyes were difficult to affect. It was possible Mad knew about that trick. Though it would never have worked against the demon emperor, Zenos¡¯ eyes were weaker in Adohas.

    It doesn¡¯t matter. Zenos steeled himself, held his stick with both hands and lunged. I¡¯m already close enough!

    A string whipped around Zenos¡¯ boot and yanked him backward. He dropped forward and planted his face in the dirt. His stick fell a few inches short of Mad¡¯s feet. The string pulled Zenos up off the track and into the air.

    Zenos glowered from where he was hung, five feet in the air by his left boot. He was upside down, his blonde hair tossed and dirtied by mud. He looked like a used paintbrush.

    ¡°Did you know what happened?¡± Mad asked with a smile as he opened one eye.

    ¡°Anima,¡± Zenos growled.

    ¡°Oho.¡± Mad chuckled. ¡°But I didn¡¯t say a single spell word.¡±

    ¡°The hair that led us to our first camp stayed lit for an hour,¡± Zenos said. ¡°You could have cast that spell in advance¡­ and left it in wait until I got too close¡­.¡±

    Zenos blushed, blood was rushing to his head.

    Mad pounded the ground and the string released Zenos. He fell to the mud for the third time that day. At the rate things were going, his noble white long sleeve and gray pants, purchased from fine tailors at the best boutiques in Bastilhas, would be ruined by the end of the day.

    ¡°Anima is a spell that animates an inanimate object with a spirit of the departed,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s especially useful because of its long duration, which means you can create all sorts of anima in the hours before battle. Remember that sometimes you¡¯ll have a spell to counter, but I wouldn¡¯t bet your life on it. Assume every enemy has prepared spells ahead of time, and that those spells will act autonomously even without their master¡¯s awareness.¡±

    Mad blinked at Zenos.

    ¡°Are you going to get up?¡± he asked.

    ¡°This mud suits me,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad¡¯s lip slanted and he scratched his head with his stick. ¡°Was I too hard on you?¡±

    Zenos pressed up from the ground and stood back on his feet. ¡°No,¡± he said with an exasperated sigh. ¡°I could cast magic in my previous life, but there were few sorcerers besides myself. Truthfully, I hadn¡¯t considered these things before.¡±

    ¡°I had expected you to use some counter magic,¡± Mad said.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°But for my eyes, I don¡¯t know any.¡±

    Mad knit his brows together. ¡°Really?¡±

    Zenos nodded, brushed the filth from his stained clothes. ¡°Though I knew magic before, none of it carried over to this world,¡± he said.

    Mad raised a hand to his chin. He made thoughtful glances as he paced around. ¡°I sensed that your mana was quite low when I met you,¡± he said. ¡°But your eyes made me think you had hidden your potential with some sort of magic.¡±

    ¡°You thought that even after I told you I wasn¡¯t an adventurer?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°No, after that I thought you were just very untalented,¡± he said.

    Zenos frowned.

    Mad smirked. ¡°You are untalented,¡± he said and stepped in to pat Zenos on the shoulder. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you¡¯re talentless.¡±

    Zenos sniffed loudly. ¡°Is that another way to say I stink?¡±

    Mad laughed and walked around him. He picked up Zenos¡¯ coat from where it lay by the track. ¡°Let¡¯s take care of that next,¡± he said, bundle of gray in his arm. ¡°Do you remember how I said our stew had enchanted water? It¡¯s time to show you where the hot spring is.¡±

    ¡°Hot spring?¡±

    Mad led the way back up the mountain, but instead of turning left and heading south to their campsite, they turned north, and traversed a narrow trail around a ravine. Across the mountain, a fair distance from the dungeon proper, they arrived at a dwarf colossus carved of stone. It stood at a ten-degree tilt, twenty meters tall and half buried in the mountainside. It was covered in greenery, vines, and tangled by the naked roots of young trees. They were nourished, not by the water that poured from its open mouth, but by the humidity of the steam it created.

    ¡°This hot water is sourced somewhere deep underground, below even the lowest level of the dungeon,¡± Mad explained. ¡°It fills these¡­ squares. We call them baths, but we¡¯re not sure what they were supposed to be.¡±

    At the foot of the statue and down the hillside were large squares, each ten feet across. They erupted from the ground like the campsite ruins and appeared close or stacked atop one another. When the water from the colossus filled the bath beneath its feet, the water from that bath overflowed into the next one below it. In that way, many baths were filled or flowing from one to the next in what looked like a terrace of steaming waterfalls.

    Mad set Zenos¡¯ coat on a long, flat stone by the riverside. He began unbuttoning his own. ¡°The adventurers would use these baths for bathing, laundry, and cooking. Not that the same time of course, that would be unsanitary.¡±

    ¡°You said these waters were enchanted,¡± Zenos said. ¡°What do you mean? Is it magical?¡±

    ¡°The fountain of youth,¡± Mad said. ¡°How do you think I stay so young?¡± He removed his black undershirt and revealed his fit, hairy chest.

    Zenos frowned at him. ¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± he said flatly.

    ¡°There¡¯s mithril in the water,¡± Mad clarified. ¡°Now, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯m going to take a bath and do some laundry. You¡¯re welcome to join me, but I understand if you¡¯re shy.¡±

    On the palatial terraces of Darigon, Zenos had enjoyed bathing in a private pool. It was surrounded on all sides by a colonnade of white marble and attended by his servants, who were blinded by mana-limiting masks, such that they could only see a faint outline of the energy in the room. In the past, Zenos had taken many precautions to prevent anyone from seeing his body.

    I¡¯m not excited about the idea, but¡­ I don¡¯t know if I can stand wearing this filth for a moment longer.

    Zenos undressed down to his boxers, like Mad. They washed their clothes in the running water and hung them up to dry on a well-used clothes line. By the time they were done, the sun was setting, and they had taken seats in Mad¡¯s favorite bath. Zenos looked down the mountain and over the trees. The purple-pink horizon was reflected in his serpentine eyes.

    ¡°I hate dungeons,¡± Mad said. He made a cry of satisfaction that startled the roosting birds. ¡°But I love this water! How could such good come from such evil?¡±

    Zenos smiled to himself and reclined in his stone seat. Water gurgled around his chest, eased his aches by its soft caress, and rejuvenated his spirit by its warmth. Mad was onto something, the water was certainly magic. Zenos could tell, if not by the preternatural comfort he felt, then by the cyan color of the water which was apparent to his cursed eyes.

    The Eyes of the Emperor could always see magic wherever it was, Zenos thought as he closed his eyes. And yet, since I arrived in Adohas, I have seen hardly any. The auras that were once so obvious are gone. I wonder if that¡¯s because my eyes are dormant. Even so, the quality of this water is clear. It shines like mithril itself.

    ¡°Hey, Zenos?¡± Mad asked from across the bath. His ponytail was undone and his long black hair fell around him.

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°Those scars¡­.¡± He pointed at Zenos¡¯ chest. ¡°I noticed them earlier, when I was doing your bandages. How did you get them?¡±

    Zenos looked down. There were welts all down his chest, across his shoulders, and upper arms. It looked as if he had been beaten many times with a hot iron and the injuries were left to harden in oval callouses.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± he answered.

    Mad nodded. ¡°Then, I¡¯m right in assuming that¡­ your body had a previous owner?¡±

    Zenos frowned. ¡°Yes,¡± he said.

    ¡°Do you know who it was?¡±

    Mad stared hard at Zenos and the Eyes of the Emperor reacted with orange light, drank of his thoughts. I have to know, Zenos heard Mad¡¯s voice in his head.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered. ¡°Anton Eddleston was his name.¡±

    Mad¡¯s eyes rounded. ¡°Eddleston?!¡±

    Zenos blinked. ¡°Did you know him?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°but the Eddlestons are famous in Bastilhas. They¡¯re one of the seven noble houses, best known for Duke Eddleston and Jessica Eddleston, who became the First Sorceress at a very young age.¡±

    ¡°That was his sister,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s why you¡¯re dressed like a ponce.¡±

    Zenos folded his arms. ¡°Should I dress in rags like you do?¡±

    ¡°I mean nothing by it,¡± Mad said. ¡°But you don¡¯t see fine tailoring like that on Adheim. I thought it was strange.¡±

    Zenos pointed at his eyes, but there wasn¡¯t a smile on Mad¡¯s face. Where he would usually crack a joke, he instead turned his head and chewed on his thumbnail.

    ¡°So, Anton is dead,¡± he said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°Did you kill him?¡±

    Zenos shook his head.

    Mad frowned, his hand clenched in a fist. ¡°Then it was the Atilonians. Damn them.¡±

    ¡°From what I gather, Anton was trying to escape Bastilhas,¡± Zenos said. ¡°The Atilonians ambushed his caravan in the mountains and he was killed, among many others.¡±

    ¡°They must be exterminating the nobility,¡± Mad said. The baleful eyes that watched the dark tree line looked alien to his face. ¡°Killing king Kalen wouldn¡¯t be enough for the Atilonians. They need to kill the branch families, the cousins, uncles, and nephews. Anyone that could claim the throne of Bastilhas is a threat to their hegemony.¡±

    ¡°Have they done this before?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°Many times,¡± Mad said. ¡°Too many times.¡±

    Zenos sighed and relaxed against the wall of the bath.

    ¡°How did you come to be in Anton¡¯s body, though?¡±

    ¡°He died¡­ and I was resurrected,¡± Zenos said. He ordered the sequence of events again in his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t just fall into this world. I was brought here.¡±

    ¡°But, then how did you end up here?¡± Mad asked.

    ¡°An accident,¡± Zenos said.

    Should I have killed that kid? If I had, I wouldn¡¯t have been shot in the back. I would be somewhere in Bastilhas. If I had searched for Amarytha, would I have found her?

    ¡°Resurrection is rare,¡± Mad said thoughtfully. He turned his head up and looked the stars that shined dimly in the throes of day. ¡°Accidents happen frequently. I¡¯ve never heard of a resurrection that crossed worlds, though.¡± Mad stared again at Zenos. ¡°Do you know who brought you back? For what purpose?¡±

    Zenos shook his head. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s borderline necromancy,¡± Mad said and the conversation ended.

    It was late when they left the bath. Their clothes were still wet and the both of them were soaked in their boxers, but Mad resolved that with a spell.

    ¡°Dry Clothing, Level 1,¡± he said and snapped his fingers. The spell dried everything from the clothes on the line to the boxers they were wearing.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have done all our laundry with magic?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s best not to lean too heavily on spells for every little thing,¡± Mad said. ¡°And magic alone doesn¡¯t replicate a wash in that river. Have a feel.¡±

    Zenos rubbed the fabric of his coat and it was indeed much softer than before. He marveled silently at the pleasant texture.

    ¡°Anima, Level 1,¡± Mad said and a brass ring fit to his index finger shined with white light.

    ¡°Not using your own hair this time?¡± Zenos remarked as he pulled up his pants.

    ¡°Someone got my knife stuck to the belly of an automaton,¡± Mad said, smirking as he dressed. ¡°I expect you¡¯ll get it back before the end of our days, won¡¯t you?¡±

    They laughed. Later, Zenos sat in the dark of his tent. To outside eyes he would appear to be staring at total darkness, but his vision was filled with the translucent blue that was his player manual.

    He studied further on the details of the player system.

    There were little more than three weeks before he had to make good on his quest.

 Chapter 27: Dodge, Block, Parry, Critical Damage

    It had been one week since Zenos left Adheim Village. Cold afternoons joined cold mornings with the turn of the season. The sky was always a pea-soup gray of thick clouds and what sunlight shined hardly brightened the day. At night, howling wind storms lashed the tents and threatened to rip their stakes from the ground.

    Presently, Mad sat with Zenos on the frostbitten hill overlooking automaton valley.

    ¡°What do you think they¡¯re doing?¡± Zenos asked Mad.

    He hummed and tucked his arms against his chest. A wisp of his breath passed through the air. ¡°I don¡¯t know for sure, but¡­.¡± He frowned at Zenos and continued. ¡°Sometimes I encounter spirits that don¡¯t know they¡¯re dead. Maybe the Automatons realized what they were. If you discovered that you were a machine, would you stay in the dungeon? Would you not look outside? And, if you compared the beauty of life to yourself, you might understand what it was that you lost. Those automatons that stand slumped beside the trees; perhaps, they¡¯re too depressed to move. Those that carry the leaves are just¡­

    ¡°Burying their friends.¡±

    ¡°If you discovered you were a machine, huh?¡±

    A gust of wind rattled the branches and scattered their fallen leaves. It disturbed the leaf piles and revealed the bronze automatons entombed within. Those few that walked began repairs on the largest piles, one handful of leaves at a time.

    ¡°Are you going to try fighting again?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos nodded. ¡°Do you mind heading back to camp?¡±

    Mad made a thin smile. ¡°Don¡¯t want to embarrass yourself?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve practiced a bit,¡± Zenos said. ¡°But I¡¯d feel better without that smile of yours watching over my shoulder.¡±

    Mad patted him on the shoulder and stood up. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. The seasoned adventurer leaned into his walking stick and brushed the leaves off his pants. ¡°Just don¡¯t die.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you until nightfall before I start looking for you,¡± Mad said as he turned up the hill.

    This could get bloody, Zenos thought. I would prefer he not know that I¡¯m a player. He slid down the hill only after Mad was safely out of sight.

    He already knows my bruises heal quickly, but I can make excuses for that. Zenos removed and folded his coat. It would be harder to explain away a crushed arm healing in minutes. He set the coat down among the leaves. It¡¯s easier to hide a bloody shirt beneath my coat than it is to return to camp soaked in my own blood.

    ¡°Now then,¡± he said and opened his player menu. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    Zenos had a total HP of 80, due to his 100 constitution. That could only be changed with a level up or via buffs, such as from constitution enhancing food. He had latched a canteen of freshly-made beef broth to his belt and stuffed a bite of survival bar in his pocket. They would increase his strength and constitution by 500 respectively, but only one well-fed buff could be active at a time. To increase his base statistics, he would have to level up.

    The process involved gathering Experience from killing creatures, be they NPC or Monster. Once a set exp value had been reached, the character would be provided with a level up. Each level up awarded 100 total stat points, but only a maximum of 50 could be placed in any one stat category per level up.

    Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, Agility, Charisma, and Spirit; six stats determine my absolute limits with regard to power, durability, speed, and wit. I was reluctant to use the level ups before, but now that I know just how low 100 constitution is, I see I have no choice.

    Zenos opened the character menu and pressed the small + icon near his paper doll avatar. When he was done adding stats, he had become level 8 and they appeared as follows:

    [Strength: 450]

    [Constitution: 450]

    [Intelligence: 100]

    [Agility: 100]

    [Charisma: 100]

    [Spirit: 100]

    There¡¯s the matter of my hidden quest reward, he thought and switched to the rewards window. From what I¡¯ve read, quest rewards are pre-determined and known before accepting a quest. In this case, not only did I not know there would be a reward, but the description window is filled with bizarre symbols. The picture is blurred with a question mark. Someone is making fun of me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll worry about that later,¡± Zenos said and cracked his knuckles against his palm. He stretched his legs and his arms, and shook the arms out as he took deep breathes. He bounced in place and jabbed the air.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Even with those level ups, I have only 360 HP.

    He pulled the bite of survival bar from his pocket and scarfed it down.

    And now, I have 680 HP. It¡¯s not enough to make the difference, but it¡¯ll do. One attack will deal 700 non-lethal damage. When that damage exceeds my current HP, I lose consciousness, but it¡¯s always counting down. More HP means I wake up minutes later instead of hours.

    ¡°My objective is to destroy an automaton and retrieve Mad¡¯s knife,¡± Zenos said, hyped himself. ¡°Failing at destroying an automaton, I¡¯ll retrieve the knife and fall back.¡±

    I have five things I can count on. The Dodge System, the Block System, the Parry System, and the Critical System. Zenos opened wide his reptilian eyes. And the Eyes of the Emperor, which I can use three times a day.

    Now!

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated.]

    Zenos¡¯ orange eyes shined. The landscape of pale-yellow leaves and tall white trunks speckled in black was became vibrant in colors of blue and red. The blue and black regions, mostly in the air, had a low to negative mana presence while the bright red lines inside the automatons corresponded to a high concentration.

    Though my eyes have changed since my previous incarnation, they can still reveal the presence of mana. And while these automatons have no eyes to manipulate, they cannot hide what circulates through their cogwheels.

    In humans, dwarfs, elves, and most animals, mana circulated through the blood veins. Animated creatures had different mana structures, depending on the magics and methods employed. The automatons in the valley appeared to have a circulatory system similar to humans, but the nexus of that system¡ªwhat would be the heart in a human¡ªappeared much larger in Zenos¡¯ mana-sensing eyes.

    ¡°Strange,¡± Zenos thought aloud. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected mana to be distributed in such a way, but that makes it all the easier. I¡¯ll fight them like I would an NPC. If I aim for the bright spots in their mana circulation, I can deal critical damage.¡±

    Or so the manual says.

    Zenos noticed a new icon in the top right corner of his HUD. Beside the Well-Fed buff was a second buff. [Eyes of the Emperor: Mana Sensing. 7 Minutes remaining.]

    I can¡¯t waste time.

    He balled his hands in fists and ran through the upper valley. He searched the automatons until he found one with a black stick stuck in the stomach of its orange-red outline. It was the knife Zenos had left lodged in the torso. The automaton, preoccupied with its leaves, didn¡¯t react to his presence. Zenos dashed in and jabbed its side with a right hook.

    [You have dealt 10 damage to the lower left torso] reported the system in his head. It still used the voice of the demon emperor.

    I did it!

    The automaton dropped its leaves and spun, arms-wide, in immediate retaliation. Zenos ducked below the swing. [You have dodged] the system reported. [You have gained 5% additional agility.]

    Dodging! Zenos thought as he weaved around the automaton¡¯s swings and punches. The Dodge System increases the player¡¯s agility by 5%, up to 50% for each successful dodge. That means I¡¯ll only get a bonus of 50 after ten of these attacks, but every bit helps.

    [You have dodged. You have gained a total of 50% additional agility.]

    Zenos dropped back, away from a swing, but when he thought he was safe, the automaton stepped forward and twirled again. This time its bronze sleeves cracked open and released a rope of mithril muscles that doubled the length of its arms. It swung its hands like flails.

    Zenos¡¯ eyes rounded and he braced his raised arm. The mithril rope collided with his forearm and crunched his bone.

    [Your forearm was hit for 200 (400) non-lethal damage. 50% was mitigated by blocking. Dodge bonus lost.]

    Zenos stumbled backward. Non-lethal? he wondered and looked at his left arm, which dangled at his side. It broke my forearm and dislocated the shoulder. Is the system really so damn technical? It¡¯s going to say that¡¯s not lethal?!

    An improved constitution helped Zenos stay focused despite the agony of the damage, but as the fight dragged on and the automaton pressed him toward the hill, the pain wore heavily on his mind. His boat was taking on water, he was about to sink.

    I can¡¯t block like that again. I can dodge all I want, but I can only make attacks with the one arm. Zenos¡¯ eyes flit to the automaton¡¯s health bar, it had barely moved. My only path to victory is in that knife!

    The Friend¡¯s Trusted Knife, which had been buried so effectively in the automaton¡¯s gut, had a base damage of 10. This was significantly higher than the base damage of Zenos¡¯ fists: 1. In their first encounter, Zenos didn¡¯t have the strength to damage the automaton¡¯s armor, but he had leveled up since then.

    The automaton lashed Zenos with its arms. He ducked beneath them and slid inside its guard. With his working hand, Zenos took hold of the knife and pried, again, at the plate that sealed its chest. The plate creaked, it buckled, and the lock snapped. Its door swung open!

    Zenos¡¯ sight was still dominated by the red and blue highlights of his mana sense. He couldn¡¯t differentiate between the many mana-infused gears and cogs he saw. The bright light in the upper left torso, a radiant red gem strung with mithril wires, was the objective he sought. It was also, clearly, the power source; its most critical point.

    The automaton thrashed at Zenos and he retreated. Meanwhile it swung like a windmill and tore the forest floor with every rotation of its flailing arms. Zenos flipped the knife into a reverse grip.

    This is my limit, he thought and charged between the whirling arms. If I can¡¯t cut out its heart, I can¡¯t call myself an adventurer!

    The automaton changed patterns as soon as he was in range. It turned on its gimbal and swung the arms counter clockwise. They flew toward Zenos at two different angles. If he didn¡¯t block the first arm, it would hit his head, and if he did block, the second arm would crush his leg. In that moment, Zenos estimated his odds of success; blocking meant failure, dodging meant failure, and retreat meant failure. He had one option: Parry!

    Zenos swung his knife to protect his head. The automaton¡¯s arm intercepted the blade and sheared itself on the steel. The mithril came unbound in an effervescent spaghetti and the automaton¡¯s fist was severed. Its arm had been cut in half.

    [You received 0 (400) non-lethal damage to the right hand. Successful parry negated all damage. Automaton collided with the knife and received collision damage. 300 critical damage dealt.]

    Zenos¡¯ eyes brightened and he looked up. A third of the automaton¡¯s HP had been removed. For a moment, he felt elated. Then the second arm smashed his left leg.

    [You received 400 non-lethal damage to the left leg. You are crippled.]

    He didn¡¯t need an icon in the corner of his screen to know that his movement speed was reduced by 75%. Zenos was on the ground, gasping for air. He rolled onto his stomach and stuck the knife in the ground. He pulled himself as best he could, tried to crawl from the automaton¡¯s reach.

    [You received 400 non-lethal damage to the back. You are unconscious.]

 Chapter 28: Demon Lord: Part 1

    The southern pass led to the mouth of a wide valley, flanked on either side by snow-capped ridges. Its dirt, nourished by glacial waters, was the most fertile in the realm of Golud Baradash. The dwarfs had long used the valley for wheat and barley. This time of year, the surface village of Lal Mopbog would be having its years-end festival. Dwarfs from all around would bring their crafts, their ales, and their skills to celebrate the coming winter.

    Such celebrations were common in the harvest regions, but my kin were suspicious by nature, covetous of their way of life, and mistrustful even of other dwarfs. However, I ¡®ad competed in their year-end arena myself. I knew there were few mountain homes with such hospitality; such joy and generosity. They always welcomed us fort-dwellers into their homes and sang with us in the mead halls. Every year I ¡®ad returned. That year was no different.

    From the hills north of the valley, we prepared our ballistae. Rangers reported our force doubled the number of men in the valley¡¯s southern end. Even so, I would not spend another dwarf life in hubris. I ordered Lal Mopbog evacuated. The ballistae were loaded with gunpowder.

    ¡®Twas the secret to dwarf dominance. No younger race had access to our vast mineral reserve or the talent to mix its riches. My engineers balanced casks around the nose of our eight-foot long ballistae bolts. They lit the fuses and our bolts were loosed on Lal Mopbog with a thunder! I watched from my tent as black smoke spoiled the sky. For seven days we bombed the village.

    This was my answer to human cavalry.

    By laying waste to the earth, we destroyed the fields and trees, and spread fires that softened the permafrost. That valley, once golden with wheat, ¡®ad turned black with mud. It would swallow the demon army¡¯s barded horses. In a few days, the first snow would sweep down from the north and freeze the ground. I did not believe my father. I was certain that faced with the closure of the southern pass, the humans would retreat rather than advance to their deaths.

    Even the demon emperor had to obey human limits. His army would be hungry. They had advanced far ahead of their baggage train and relied on pillaging the mountain homes for supplies. By destroying Lal Mopbog, I ¡®ad dealt a double blow! The muddy terrain deprived them of their agility and the lack of food crippled their morale. Faced with the terror of explosive ballistae bolts, I was certain¡ªcertain they would run!

    Another year. One more year, and the forts would be sealed behind their iron doors. My kin would be safe. For the life of a single dwarf, no sacrifice was too great.

    On the eighth day, the demon army arrived. Their soldiers were decorated in black armor and they carried red pennants that fluttered in the cold wind. I expected they would setup camp just beyond our range, but rather than wait for the snow, they formed a battle line. Foolish! They¡¯d come all that way and learned nothing about the land. The demon emperor intended to break through!

    I made my orders. The mithril shield breakers would join me in the spearhead. The regular army of dwafen Bronzebeards, Graybeards, and Whitebeards, would form ranks in the following arrangement: Whitebeards in front, for they were the oldest dwarfs; proud land owners, who paid for their own mithril armor and carried large round shields that made for a fierce shield wall. The Graybeards were the second oldest, and formed the lines behind the Whitebeards with their halberds. While the Whitebeards blocked the men with their shields, the halberds would strike out in the gaps between the line and cut the men to pieces.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Then there were the Bronzebeards. They were the youngest, but fiercest warriors. They had the most to lose, because they ¡®ad not yet lived 200 years or more. The fledglings were thirsty for honor, so I instructed them to fill the gaps in the dwarfen line. If the humans were to make a break, however impossible that seemed, they would rush in with their hand axes and round shields and stem the damage before it caused a route.

    While the infantry held the line, the ballistae would harass the human rear-guard with explosives.

    We would shatter their bodies and their wills in a valley of fire, steel, and blood.

    The humans charged on the evening of the second day, in the long shadow of the mountains. It was bizarre to see. Light was a critical component of war: A warrior needed it to coordinate, to react to attacks, and to attack effectively. The darkness made it difficult for the men to determine friend from foe and the glow of their tall torches only marked them as targets for the ballistae crews. We let loose the first volley.

    Orange-red flashed across the valley¡¯s end. Plumes of mud soared into the air. I heard the screams from where I stood on the hill, as I made ready my armor and my weapons. The ballistae let loose another volley. The explosions shook the earth, roused the dwarfs from their mead tables and their feasting tents. We assembled at the foot of the hill and I stood at the head of the army.

    How foolish men were. Did they think that the darkness would affect us as well? Did they think the mud would hinder us at all? We ¡®ad long mastered the mountain caves with our darkvision, and we were masters of the earth! I clapped my mithril-plate boot into the mud and released the magic of my blood eyes.

    ¡°Earth Step Aura!¡± I shouted and a wave of red light passed over my army. The mud would hinder them no more. To them, it would be stiff as solid stone.

    I raised my arms and ¡®eld my steel axes high over my head. ¡°Charge!¡± I shouted.

    The deafening blow of horns sounded across our dwarfen line. The Whitebeards roared. The Graybeards roared louder. The Bronzebeards cheered, and the battle was joined!

    It was a slaughter.

    What men weren¡¯t swallowed by the mud were cut down by our axes. And those that sunk fast into the earth, carried down by their weight and their struggle, cried for help. The men carried 6-foot long great swords that would have cleaved a dwarf in two, if they could ¡®ave hit¡¯em. In the dark, they were blind. The shadow of the night was as day in our eyes.

    They did not retreat. I could smell the sweat of fear in the air, but despite their losses and their cowardice, they did not turn even as our blades found their hearts. The humans threw themselves at our line until their bodies had piled into the mud. When there was no mud to sink through, they stood on the plate-armored backs of their freshly fallen.

    What was I to make of that? The men that charged blindly into the night. They ran toward thunderous boots and gnashing steel, and all behind them were plumes of fire and filth. They must have turned deaf from the noise. Blind and deaf, they were. I had expected the fierce, elite force that had defeated so many hill forts. Instead, I found animals that cared not for their own lives.

    Did they have nothing they treasured?

    I broke through the human line. Together with my mithril shieldbreakers, I pressed toward a tall tent behind the demon army. It was the only one they erected. The demon emperor sent his reserves, but all he accomplished was halting my shieldbreakers. They could not stop me.

    I ¡®ad thought that he must be the reason. Something had turned the men of the lowlands into suicidal monsters. It must ¡®ave been the demon emperor. With my axes, I would end his life, and with his death end the invasion. I would set the realms of humanity and the dwarfkin right again. That was my promise, as Balagrim Dazka!

    I recognized him instantly. He stood before the large tent in black plate armor, his orange eyes glowering from behind the thin visor of his great helm. His gauntlets were folded neatly over the pommel of a long, black sword stuck blade-down in the earth.

    [Balagrim,] I heard in the back of my mind. [I am glad that you¡¯ve come.]

 Chapter 29: Demon Lord: Part 2

    I shouted. There were no words to my anger. That man had just sent his army to its death. He had slaughtered elves and dwarfs alike. And those feelings¡ªwhat joined the words in my mind¡ªwere not of hatred, or arrogance, or pride. I felt that the demon emperor was happy to see me. I knew he was relieved!

    In my dreams, I often walked through the halls of the Daz Baradash. I passed the statues of my forefathers, the ancient paragons of all dwarf-kind, and stepped onto the palace terrace. From the doorway, I could see my father and my mother, the queen. He was in his robes, and they were talking, but I was always too far to hear the words. The look on their faces¡ªrelief, that kingdom was safe¡ªfilled me with gladness.

    The demon emperor felt that same gladness, for me.

    I charged him; axes twirled in my hands. I screamed, drove my axe toward his neck. We clashed on the hill. I drove him toward the dirt, crashed through his guard. His longsword shattered and my axe found his sword arm. Blood splashed across the hill. The demon emperor fell against a boulder.

    ¡°How can I reach you?¡± he asked as blood poured through his split plate sleeve.

    I panted heavily. The demon emperor¡¯s own blood had painted my armor. I stepped forward and raised my axe.

    Orange, reptilian eyes glowed at me from the shadow of the emperor¡¯s helm.

    [Because you have the eyes, I know you can see the truth,] the emperor said again to my mind. [Balagrim Dazka, you are not real. This world is a fake, created as a game by perverse gods. Only our eyes can understand that truth. Only we can challenge it!]

    I heard these words and knew them to be true.

    ¡°That may be so,¡± I said to him. ¡°But you have attacked my kin. I cannot let you live.¡±

    The demon emperor¡¯s eyes rounded. By the connection in our eyes, I knew he was shocked. ¡°That is your answer?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The love I have for my kin is real,¡± I said.

    The demon emperor closed his eyes. ¡°I understand,¡± he said.

    There was silence and I hesitated to slash my blade. It wasn¡¯t his revelations that gave me pause. I leapt backward and the ground erupted in dirt. Ballistae?! was the word that rushed to the front of my mind, but through the dust I saw a purple light. I saw the shadow of a woman in the cloud of debris.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive him,¡± she said. ¡°He had it in his head that you would listen to reason, but I knew you better.¡±

    Her voice was familiar. It carried a calm elegance that I had heard on my trips abroad, when I visited the realms of mankind, and the elves. My bones shivered and I readied my axes.

    ¡°Queen Evylence?¡± I asked.

    She stepped through the smoke. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one with darkvision,¡± she said with a smile. Her eyes glowed with purple light.

    ¡°What are you doing here?!¡± I shouted.

    ¡°I¡¯m saving the demon emperor¡¯s life,¡± she answered.

    It sounded unbelievable, but she bore the cursed eyes. By our connection, I knew that she spoke the truth. She didn¡¯t just save the demon emperor, she served him!

    We had heard from the elves how the demon emperor ¡®ad devastated their land. Their king, slain. Their capital destroyed and their forests burned. The smoke from that devastation had turned our summer skies orange with ash. They said queen Evylence had been murdered by the demon emperor.

    ¡°H-He¡ª¡± I could not form my words, but by our eyes, she knew my feelings. She smirked at me.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°There have been a trillion queen Evylences,¡± she said. ¡°A trillion happy kingdoms, a trillion dead kings, and vengeful queens that defended the world. I knew you would be too stubborn to think about it, even for a moment. What does this game say about the lives we choose to live?¡±

    I wouldn¡¯t listen to her. I couldn¡¯t. Curse my eyes! Her words carried feelings into my mind. If I didn¡¯t attack, I would believe strange things. Axes firm in ¡®and, I charged up the hill. She dashed towards me.

    I had known queen Evylence as a quiet, beautiful elf. Her king was proud, boisterous, and loud, and that nature made him a good fit for dwarfen diplomacy. We shared drinks at his table and laughed away the old grudges of our people, but Evylence rarely said a word. She smiled and spoke when spoken to, but answered briefly and took no joy in the conversation.

    ¡°Why is she so quiet?¡± the king once responded as we stood at the tree-top balcony of living wood. We looked out over the day with drinks in our hand. He was a beautiful man himself, with a clean-shaven face and short raven black hair, but he made a sad smile as if to diminish his charms. ¡°She¡¯s happy, but¡­ I don¡¯t think she likes me.¡±

    Was it a matter of love?

    ¡°No,¡± he had said. ¡°It¡¯s the kingdom, you see? Her position and responsibility mean she can¡¯t be her true self.¡±

    I now realized what he meant, as Evylence drove her fist through my stomach and sent me tumbling down the hill. ¡°We can do this three ways,¡± Evylence said as I gasped for breath. ¡°Sit down and listen to the Demon Emperor, or I break your bones and force you to listen. If you¡¯d rather, I can beat you to an inch of your life and leave you with just your ears.¡±

    She flexed her biceps as she cracked her knuckles.

    What was I hearing? Evylence ¡®ad lost her mind! She had turned her once luscious hair into a bob cut. Her fair skin and beautiful fair face were dirtied by mud, and tanned by months under the sun. She looked nothing like a queen I had known. She had turned fierce, like a demon!

    ¡°What would your husband say?¡± I asked and spat blood across the mud.

    She frowned and dashed toward me. She was faster than the wind! For a moment, I saw her face. He would say, ¡®at least she¡¯s happy now,¡¯ or something. Isn¡¯t that right? were the words I heard before her foot connected with my head. I was kicked across the field and into the dirt.

    I clambered to my feet. The din of battle ¡®ad grown closer and I knew the demon army was nearly through. If I distracted her for a moment or longer, the hill would be overrun and we would finish the demon emperor for good.

    ¡°Why would you serve him?!¡± I shouted.

    She smiled and charged me again. I saw there was no speaking with her. If I was going to survive, I had to fight! We clashed at the foot of the hill, traded blows with flesh and steel. Her skin was like iron to my attacks, but after three hits, I drew blood. Her eyes flashed like amethyst to a miner¡¯s candle and the head of my axe was broken on her fist. She grabbed me by the arm and punched me into the ground.

    I looked at her with my good eye, reddened further by blood. Evylence was injured. Blood poured down the slice I delivered to her arm. Yet, she smiled still. She gleamed like a gemstone in the sweat of battle. She was still beautiful.

    ¡°You¡¯re powered by rage, aren¡¯t you?¡± she asked. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you used your rage, Balagrim? Why won¡¯t you cut loose with those eyes of yours?¡±

    I didn¡¯t realize it ¡®til much later. Not until¡­ long, long after that battle. She was trying to get me to think. Thoughts moved the poison deeper into my mind; curiosity, wonder, and doubt. She wanted me to ask: Why am I not angry? Evylence was also trying to buy time.

    It was my loss.

    While I was in the muck, the demon emperor turned up. He stepped beside her, a dark light mending at his injury. ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± he said. His orange eyes brightened with flame.

    ¡°The army is annihilated?¡± Evylence asked him. They ignored me where I laid.

    ¡°I¡¯ve reaped their souls,¡± the demon emperor said. ¡°The mana I have now should be sufficient.¡±

    Evylence looked at me. ¡°Raise your axe,¡± she said. ¡°You have one left. Don¡¯t you have the strength to kill the demon emperor?¡±

    The emperor glanced at me. I¡¯m sorry, were the words conveyed to my mind. [I had hoped we could be¡­ comrades.]

    Comrades, that was what he said to me. He spoke the truth.

    ¡°Firestorm,¡± the demon emperor said. ¡°Level 6.¡±

    A hundred flaming projectiles rained down from the sky. I fell on my back and watched them as falling stars that bombarded the battlefield. I heard the screams of my dwarfs that burned on the field. They were destroyed.

    ¡°Firestorm,¡± the demon emperor said again.

    ¡°Firestorm.¡±

    ¡°Firestorm.¡±

    From the ground, I wondered at my defeat. I apologized to my father, my mother, and my kin. I ¡®ad brought my axe against the enemy, but I had fallen. The anger that fueled me, failed me in that final moment. I could not hate the demon emperor.

    [Every day, I watched my life pass by,] Evylence had communicated to my mind, in the moment before her fist shattered my axe. [Year on year flit by my eyes, and I said this was fine, because my life was long and my heart was full. Then the demon emperor destroyed my kingdom. I realized, as the palace burned, that I felt okay. It felt fine to live¡­ and fine to die. His words¡ªwhat touched my mind¡ªmade me understand. One could be a lie, but neither could be true!]

    [I wanted to live a meaningful life!]

 Chapter 30: Combat Ended

    Zenos opened his eyes. He was laying on his stomach on the forest floor, his face full of leaves. He scanned the HUD: HP 680 (679). His well-fed buff was still in effect, but his Eyes of the Emperor ability had ended.

    <I wasn¡¯t out for long,> he thought as he pressed up onto his knees. His left arm and leg ached, but the broken bones and torn muscles had healed. Even his dislocated shoulder had locked back into place. It appeared combat had ended and limited restoration had restored mobility.

    The automaton¡¯s torn arm was left among the leaves near Zenos. Its three-fingered bronze hand was still closed like a fist, and its mithril rope of synthetic muscles had coiled where it fell. Zenos got up and stumbled on his left leg, but he could stand well enough.

    <I can still fight.>

    Zenos turned. The automaton was gathering leaves some distance away, a task made all the more difficult without its left arm. It picked up three or four birch leaves in its claw-like fingers, but most fell through its grip. Zenos gripped his knife and limped toward it.

    Since the automatons were passive unless attacked, it didn¡¯t react to his approach. Even when he stood right beside it, it continued the then-impossible task of leaf piling. It made no sound, but for the clack of the gears in its chest. It made no expression, for its faceless head was cast in solid bronze. Zenos grabbed its open chest cavity with his hand and drove his knife at its heart. That ¡®heart¡¯¡ªan amethyst colored gem wrapped in mithril coils¡ªwas the automaton¡¯s primary power source. Its health dropped drastically when the knife blade severed its mithril veins.

    [Critical hit.]

    [Critical hit.]

    Zenos paid no attention to the details of his prompts. Before the automaton could react, he had cut the gem from its wires. Without that core¡ªso intrinsic to its function¡ªthe automaton halted immediately. Zenos pushed and it fell on its back like a sack of wheat.

    [Target is dead. Combat has ended.]

    [You have leveled up.]

    [You have leveled up.]

    [You have leveled up.]

    [Three level ups are waiting for you.]

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said to the heap of bronze and mithril. ¡°That felt cheap.¡±

    Zenos turned the gem in his hand and he noticed a peculiar light that moved within. It beamed, like sunlight through water. There was liquid¡ªperhaps mana¡ªtrapped within a cavity. Its power was apparent to his eyes even without his mana sensing.

    [???? ???] The system recognized it, but didn¡¯t identify its name.

    ¡°Maybe Mad will know something,¡± he thought aloud and pushed the gem into his pant pocket.

    <Thud!> Something landed behind Zenos. He spun around, balanced the dagger in his hand. His blade was aimed at the source of the noise: A wooden, iron-bound chest. It looked like a merchant¡¯s trunk, with a round lid over its rectangular container. Chests in different shapes and sizes were crucially important to logistics for long campaigns, so Zenos was familiar with their use. However, he couldn¡¯t explain why one had just dropped behind him.

    Zenos made a cautious approach. There was no lock on the latch, so he could lift the lid by its handle. He considered his options. The chest could be booby trapped, but that was unlikely considering the location. The chest could have been dropped from an aerial ship, which Zenos had seen once before, but that was also unlikely given he had heard no noise overhead. There were two other possibilities; that it was a mimic, a type of magical creature that copied inanimate objects to hunt prey, or Mad was playing a trick on him.

    Zenos didn¡¯t know if mimics existed in Adohas, but he couldn¡¯t rule it out. The most likely answer was that Mad was pranking him. In that case, he was a good sport. He opened the chest¡¯s lid.

    Darkness. The chest was empty, but even stranger, he couldn¡¯t see the bottom. It was as if there was a hole in Adohas and on the other side of world was a black realm of pitiless shadow. Zenos would have closed the lid immediately, but he heard a voice. He did not hear the words with his ears, or sense them through telepathy, but he knew the voice was there. It was a woman and she was calling to him.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Zenos dropped his knife among the leaves and tossed the lid open. He grabbed the container by its edge and plunged his right hand inside. He reached, first through the cold shadow, and then into the deepest black, where his arm was submerged in frigid water. A slick hand gripped his elbow and another grabbed him by the wrist. His HUD flickered as he struggled against them. Something was placed in Zenos¡¯ hand. The hands released his arm.

    He pushed himself from the chest and pulled the object from the container. After he fell against the leaves, the chest began to rattle. Its iron split and its wood crunched together as it folded into a black orb. When the chest had been consumed, the orb that floated ahead of Zenos melted into a new shape. It took on the form of a thin fragment and dropped to the forest floor.

    Zenos realized he was panting. His eyes startled open. ¡°What happened?¡± he wondered aloud. ¡°I opened the chest and then¡­ and then¡­ I can¡¯t remember. I heard a voice. What¡¯s this in my hand?¡±

    [Longsword of the Novice] a new prompt read.

    [Quality: 100.]

    [Damage: 50.]

    [Level requirement: 10.]

    [Additional Effect: Increase experience gain by 50% (1% after level 50.)]

    There was a four-foot sword in Zenos¡¯ hand. It had a silver blade, a long undecorated handguard, and a black leather handle. It felt comfortable, it balanced well in his hand, and the sword was light given its length. He stood and gave it a few practice swings.

    <The chest¡­ was this inside?>

    Zenos cut the air. He slashed up and down, twirled the blade and cut again to his left. He curved the sword up, spun on his heel, and brought the blade down with the turn of his body. It thunked loudly against a birch trunk.

    [0 damage dealt] the system reported.

    [Level requirement not met] flashed bright red before his eyes.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯m only level 8,¡± he said and turned his head up. The sky was turning colors. ¡°But it¡¯s late¡­ I¡¯ll have a chance to test this later.¡±

    Zenos placed the sword in his inventory and picked the knife off the ground. The black shard remained among the leaves, seethed with shadow like languid flame. He put his hand to it and it didn¡¯t burn to the touch, so he grabbed the shard.

    [!@#$&%^@*#]

    It was different from the obfuscation of question marks. The item name was obstructed with the same bizarre symbols that occupied his ¡®quest reward.¡¯ Zenos tested it against his inventory and sure enough it passed through the screen. Its icon appeared as a question mark in the inventory listing.

    <I wonder if my quest reward is also one of these shards¡­ maybe I¡¯ll ask Mad about that too,> he thought as he turned toward the mountain trail. <Although I might keep this to myself. Like the player system, some knowledge could be harmful. He might be a good person, but he¡¯s still an NPC.>

    As Zenos left, he passed the slain automaton. Several others had already gathered around it. They had piled wilted birch leaves into its gear-filled chest cavity.

    It was late when Zenos returned to camp, but there was still faint daylight to walk by. Mad was by the fire, tending to a fresh pan of stew.

    ¡°I got it,¡± Zenos said as he came up behind Mad. He dropped the gem in his lap. ¡°That¡¯s what you wanted, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Mad closed one eye and turned the gem in the firelight. The bright liquid splashed within. Zenos took a seat across the fire and by Mad¡¯s expression, he knew the seasoned adventurer could see the gem¡¯s glow.

    ¡°Good,¡± Mad said. ¡°You removed it cleanly, but¡­.¡± He glowered at Zenos. ¡°You were out there all day.¡±

    Zenos made a nervous smile. ¡°It¡­ was a long fight.¡±

    ¡°Those things aren¡¯t usually dangerous,¡± Mad said. He paid attention to his stew. ¡°But they can still kill you if you aren¡¯t careful.¡±

    Zenos nodded.

    ¡°Just don¡¯t try too hard,¡± Mad said. ¡°You might have had two lives, Zenos, but don¡¯t expect a third one.¡±

    Zenos couldn¡¯t tell him about the player system. Even if he let it slip under the guise of being a ¡®chosen one¡¯, he had no way of knowing what that could mean to Mad. The chosen ones, who had power second only to the gods, were idolized by the NPCs. They were also feared.

    ¡°I understand,¡± he said and lowered his head. ¡°I¡¯ll be more cautious in the future.¡±

    Mad smiled and Zenos felt a little relief to see him in his good spirits. ¡°Excellent, because you¡¯re going back there,¡± he said.

    Zenos blinked. ¡°You¡¯ve lost me.¡±

    ¡°The Adventurer¡¯s Guild doesn¡¯t raid every day,¡± he said. ¡°Some days they harvest from the inactive dungeons, but most of the time the guild prepares writs for them to accept. Those writs, which could be bounties, notices, or requests for help, form the bulk of our work. The act of accepting one turns the writ into a quest. Questing, that¡¯s what it means to be an adventurer.¡±

    Zenos nodded. He felt an age had passed since he¡¯d heard one of Mad¡¯s lectures, and to hear one again evoked a small smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to give you a real quest,¡± Mad said. ¡°As a Gold Rank, I have that authority.¡±

    ¡°Gold Rank?¡±

    ¡°Bronze, Silver, Gold, Mithril, and Adamantine¡­¡± Mad clarified. ¡°Those are the five ranks of the guild. There are grades within those ranks, and I stand at Grade S. You could say I¡¯m at the pinnacle of my rank, so I have certain administrative powers.¡±

    Zenos pointed at himself. ¡°What rank would you say I¡¯m at?¡±

    ¡°Below bronze.¡± Mad laughed. ¡°You¡¯re still a novice.¡±

    Zenos frowned.

    ¡°But I want to change that,¡± Mad added. ¡°I¡¯m going to give you a quest. Bring me twenty gems, and in return I¡¯ll give you something nice.¡±

    Zenos¡¯ brows perked up. <Those automatons nearly killed me!> He opened his mouth, but hesitated. <Is what I want to say¡­.>

    ¡°Twenty automatons?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Twenty,¡± Mad said. ¡°But the reward will be great, I promise.¡±

    ¡°If I defeat twenty automatons, will I be ready to raid the dungeon?¡±

    Mad set his eyes on the stew, stirred the pan of brown chunks with the ladle. His smile waned. He said nothing.

    ¡°Mad,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°If you can defeat twenty, perhaps you could be some help after all,¡± he said. ¡°Do you think you¡¯re up to the task?¡±

    Zenos removed Mad¡¯s knife from a loop in his belt. He took it by its blade and reached over the fire. ¡°Here,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°Going at it with your fists?¡± Mad asked and took the knife by the handle.

    Zenos smirked.

    ¡°I have a plan.¡±

 Chapter 31: Our Reason Why

    It was the middle of the day and Zenos was in a bath. A trip to the hot spring had become routine after his morning exercise. His arms were spread over the edge of the bath behind him and his head was knocked back against its stone. He watched the gray sky in a daze, his predatory eyes wandered from one cloud to the next.

    I said I had a plan, but¡­. Inventory.

    The blue screen of the player system appeared as it responded to his thoughts. He reached his hand through the tension of its holographic surface and pull forth the silver-bladed longsword. Its existence still felt like a dream and the swirls folded into the blade seemed to turn under his eyes. Zenos had difficulty remembering how the sword came to be in his hand. He had opened the lid of a chest, but the interim between the chest and the sword, was black.

    ¡°My plan, basically, is to use this sword,¡± Zenos admitted with a frown. He turned the handle and examined the blade¡¯s edge. ¡°With five times as much damage, a single hit to an exposed arm should destroy an automaton in one strike.¡±

    He sighed and placed the sword back in his inventory. The holographic screen disappeared and Zenos relaxed again in the warm water of the spring.

    It would, if armor didn¡¯t come into play.

    Armor was the key mitigator for physical damage in Ark World. According the player manual, ¡®armor¡¯ could mean anything from a bear¡¯s thick hide to the bronze-plate skin of the automatons. It was a value that decreased damage received by a flat amount, and that amount could further decrease with hidden modifiers; spells, buffs, abilities, and so on. There were also weak points that could negate armor, or apply a negative armor value that increased damage received.

    The formula for the system wasn¡¯t apparent in the player manual.

    Zenos sunk chin-deep into the water. Strength is supposed to increase my physical damage by 0.1 per point, he thought. At maximum, I could have 1,250 strength, which would add 125 damage to my sword swings. If I added my level ups together, that could become 140, but I can¡¯t tell how that interacts with the damage added by my weapons. Proficiency must come into play somewhere.

    He opened the player menu and checked his proficiency screen. The [Knives] proficiency had increased from 24 to 25 in his battle with the automaton. It was a lackluster increase, given the difficulty of an automaton compared to the atilonian soldiers.

    One had 15 HP, and the other had somewhere around 900. Zenos sneered. It sure seems like effort doesn¡¯t matter at all.

    He switched to his quest menu. The system had picked up on Mad¡¯s quest and listed it as [Liar¡¯s Mask] above the quests tagged [Defender of Adheim] and [Ambush!]. The last one was highlighted with a green checkmark and its quest reward was available. Zenos selected [Ambush!] and opened the reward screen. The question mark and garbled text was visible in a small window.

    He hit [Accept].

    The player interface turned fuzzy, broke to pieces, and faded away. Zenos tried to raise it again, but a warning flashed in the dark of his mind. [Error,] it repeated in his voice. The player HUD glitched and its visual elements disappeared. Zenos sat up straight. He stared at the bath water with an unobstructed view.

    ¡°System¡­ error?¡± he muttered to himself.

    A black pinhole appeared above the bath. At first it was small, but it grew rapidly by absorbing its surroundings. First it took the air, then the water swirled into its vacuum, until it had become the size of a billiard ball. Zenos watched, stunned, as the ball melted into the shape of a jagged, black piece. It fell into the bath.

    The elements of his HUD flickered back into place.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    He plunged down into the water to grab it from where it lay. [#$^*!^$^@#] the item name read in his hand. Zenos threw back over the water, gasped for air as he settled against his stone seat. The piece was the size of his palm and it burned with black fire as he turned it between his fingers. Like the chest piece, it didn¡¯t produce heat, and its item name was broken.

    [Inventory,] Zenos called and the holographic screen appeared correctly. He placed the piece inside, just like the first one he found in the forest.

    ¡°Is the system itself broken?¡± Zenos wondered. He took a breath and collected his thoughts. ¡°Or, is it breaking down? Strange things happen wherever those pieces are.¡±

    It¡¯s not the strangest thing, however¡­. His thoughts trailed away as he stood from the bath. His pale skin, flushed red by the warm water, prickled in the winter air. He walked carefully down the square steps that led to the warming stones; flat stones that were heated by the water that ran beneath. Towels had been folded there for his benefit, since he had no magic to dry himself.

    I wonder again. For what reason am I here? Amarytha must have had a reason to bring me back, he thought, reptilian eyes set on the evergreen trees as he rubbed a towel over his hair. Mad has a reason to risk his life on this deserted island, but I don¡¯t know that either. Even the automatons have their reasons for lurching around the valley. Everyone in Adohas seems to know what they¡¯re doing, while I¡¯m left to stumble in the dark. That¡¯s the strangest thing about this world.

    I used to be the demon emperor. The fate of my world revolved around me. And now, I¡¯m¡­ just confused.

    Zenos dressed pulled on his pants, dressed himself in his shirt and coat. He tugged his boots over his feet and tightened their laces.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m expecting too much,¡± he said, head downturned at the ground. ¡°I¡¯m looking for reasons in odd things, because that¡¯s what I¡¯m used to. My script-less life has to find its own way. I don¡¯t know the reason¡ªmy reason¡ªfor being, but I feel like I want to complete these quests.¡±

    He looked ahead with a glow in his orange eyes. ¡°It¡¯s enough to make myself useful with a player¡¯s power, right?¡± he asked himself. ¡°If I could save Mad¡¯s life, then I¡¯ll have done something¡­ worthy.¡±

    Zenos set out on the forest trail and headed for automaton valley. Along the way, he applied his remaining level ups and increased his level to 11. His stats totaled as follows:

    [Strength: 600]

    [Constitution: 600]

    [Intelligence: 100]

    [Agility: 100]

    [Charisma: 100]

    [Spirit: 100]

    In the birchwood valley, Zenos took a bite of his survival bar and increased his constitution to 1100. He removed his coat and left it folded beside a tree. Then, he drew the silver longsword from his inventory and approached a walking automaton.

    He cut his sword through the gimbal in the automaton¡¯s waist and dismembered its torso. The automaton fell back and its legs collapsed forward into the leaves.

    [Critical damage] the system reported, but Zenos ignored the message. The automaton¡¯s total health of 950 now appeared in the HUD¡¯s target view. It had lost half its HP in one strike. It struggled on the ground, but failed to do more than turn its head as Zenos pressed his boot to its chest. He squared the tip of his blade over its neck.

    Skrrrit! The sword sheered the metal and beheaded the automaton.

    [Critical damage] the system reported again.

    [Target is dead.]

    [You have leveled up.]

    [You have leveled up.]

    [You have leveled up.]

    Zenos glared down the valley. There were many automatons ahead. They were by the leaf-less birch trees, in and around their piles. His eyes shined orange.

    ¡°I¡¯ve made a decision,¡± he said. ¡°Even if I don¡¯t know my purpose, I know that if I do nothing, a good man will die. To save his life¡ªthat¡¯s reason enough to live! That¡¯s why I¡¯ll seek power!¡±

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated.]

    ¡°Attack me!¡±

    [Compulsion failed x30.]

    The automatons turned. They locked the haunting depressions of their seamless faces on his person.

    Did you feel this way, Amy?

    Zenos pulled his sword up from the ground and stepped off the fallen automaton. He twirled the blade by its handle as he approached the automaton horde.

    When you found me, in that circle of stars.

    The automatons surrounded Zenos. They released their arm restraints and spun wildly, swung their flail-like arms. Zenos weaved between them, cut them by the edge of his blade, rent their mithril to pieces.

    You accepted my quest. Fought a battle you couldn¡¯t possibly win, just because I asked.

    An automaton collapsed to the ground. A fist found Zenos¡¯ stomach and he was tossed down. [Your stomach was hit for¡­.] He ignored the system¡¯s report, clambered up and gripped his sword in both hands. Zenos screamed and charged into the fray.

    I think I know one reason why.

    Seven automatons laid dead around Zenos. He leaned on his sword and gasped for breath. Sweat ran heavily down his face. An automaton charged in with its flailing fist. Zenos flicked the sword up, kicked dirt with its blade, and scattered leaves through the air. The automaton came apart by the tip of his blade.

    [You have leveled up¡­] the system reported.

    Zenos smiled.

    Players¡­ live for this type of thing.

 Chapter 32: Aftermath

    Zenos sat on a pile of fallen automatons. His hands were folded over the pommel of his downturned sword, its blade stuck through the dirt. He had closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders, and rested his forehead against the back of his hand. The forest was quiet, but for the chirp of song birds, and the haunting whistle of distant dwarf statues.

    All around were hunks of bronze and scattered mithril thread that glinted in the evening light. Zenos had defeated 31 automatons and a pile of turbid amethyst gems rested between his feet. They glowed in disharmony, shining every so often to their own rhythm. No treasure chest had appeared.

    What should I tell Mad? Zenos wondered. He¡¯d be surprised, wouldn¡¯t he? Yeah, he¡¯d definitely be surprised. If I take these gems to him, he¡¯ll ask how I did it. It would be difficult to explain, without revealing the player system.

    [Fourteen level ups are waiting for you] a blinking alert read in the dark behind his eyes.

    That many level ups will double my power. Would that be enough?

    Zenos straightened up, opened his bestial eyes. The player menu opened ahead of him. He first checked the proficiency menu. [Sword (one-hand)] had raised from 40 to 46 and [Sword (two-hand)] had also increased from 45 to 49. He had increased both proficiencies by switching forms¡ªhis method of fighting¡ªthroughout the battle. After confirming the change, he switched to his character menu and allocated his level up points. His new stat total was as follows:

    [Strength: 900]

    [Constitution: 1000]

    [Intelligence: 100]

    [Agility: 800]

    [Charisma: 100]

    [Spirit: 100]

    He focused on the increased agility stat. Once I figured out their pattern, fighting the automatons one on one was very simple. However, multiply those moving arms by ten, and I have difficulty avoiding simultaneous attacks. Agility is more abstract than the other stats, there¡¯s no health meter or damage value to compare it to, but it should make combat easier.

    Zenos stood from the automaton heap and placed the silver sword back in his inventory; it disappeared into its holographic interface. He flexed his right arm and swung it in a wide circle as he observed his increased constitution and strength. Motion of the arm was much faster, a likely benefit of his higher agility. In fact, all motion had been accelerated enough to notice. The turn of his head was snappier and even the contraction of his pupils was more responsive.

    This sort of change could take an NPC a year to achieve, he thought. I can¡¯t underestimate the player system.

    Zenos scooped the gems up from the ground and placed them in his inventory. Only a small handful of three were kept on hand for delivery. They found a place in his coat pocket after he slipped its gray sleeves over his arms.

    Before he left, he stopped to turn half back to the valley. The automatons had been devastated and from where he stood at the trail head, he couldn¡¯t spot a moving one among them. Zenos made a respectful nod toward the valley and carried on up the hill.

    Night had fallen by the time Zenos returned, but the fire was out. Mad was nowhere to be seen. The whistle of the surrounding statues continued in their discordant chorus.

    ¡°Mad?¡± Zenos called into the dark.

    There was no reply.

    He frowned, but shrugged his shoulders, and started carrying logs to the fire. Although Zenos had no spells, he still knew a few tricks to starting a fire by hand. He could thank the demon lord, Destrey, for the odd survival lesson and kernel of wisdom he would share on campaign.

    It still took an hour to start the fire.

    An exhausted Zenos sat close to the nascent flame and he warmed his hands by its glow. The stars were out, but Mad still hadn¡¯t returned. Zenos was feeling a little hungry. The ingredients for stew were nearby, stored in Mad¡¯s backpack and boxes beside his tent. Curiously, Mad had left his backpack at camp.

    Zenos disregarded that thought and fixated on food. A good stew required potatoes, carrots, onions, dried beef, water for boiling, and seasonings. He kept that in mind as he searched for those ingredients. There was a pail that still had some clean water, the vegetables were readily available, and the seasonings were in his backpack with paper-wrapped packets of beef.

    ¡°There¡¯s no knife here,¡± he said.

    It occurred to him that Mad had just the one knife, but that he had made stew without it after Zenos lost it the first time. Unless he used magic, there had to be another knife somewhere. Zenos searched Mad¡¯s backpack and sure enough there was a long butcher¡¯s cleaver hidden in a side pouch. It was crude compared to Mad¡¯s smaller knife, but it was easier to chop vegetables with a cleaver than the longsword in the inventory. Zenos took it and a piece of paper fell from the backpack pocket.

    In the shadow of the night it was hard to tell what it was. [Well-Kept Photograph] read its item name after Zenos picked it up. He moved toward the fire, cleaver in one hand and photo in the other, and held the picture toward the fire for a better look.

    There were five people, three men and two women, in the faintly-colored photograph. Two of them were black and three of them were white. Zenos could tell the white ones were Bastilhasians, perhaps by Anton¡¯s own familiarity with their features. Of the two black men, the taller one standing in the back of the photo was certainly Mad.

    ¡°Who are these people?¡± Zenos muttered to himself.

    The black man in the center of the photo was kneeling in steel plate armor. The beak of his plate helmet was lifted up and he showed off a beaming smile. There was a red and blue shield strapped to his arm, emblazoned with a heraldry of a black gryphon. A longsword was clutched in his hand.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The Bastilhasian man beside him wore glasses and his short blond hair was cut in a flat top. He was smirking in his brown triple-layered robe. One hand rested on his hip and the other held a wooden staff. Zenos could tell it was a quality wizard¡¯s staff by its smooth, gnarled end.

    One woman stood behind the knight and the other across from the wizard on the other side of the photograph. They looked similar, like they could have been sisters, but one wore a steel breastplate over her thin leather armor, and the other wore white robes, like the wizard. There was a bowstring threaded over the breastplate and a book in the robed woman¡¯s hands. They both smiled for the picture.

    And then, there was Mad, of course. He stood behind the women with his black hair tied back in a familiar ponytail. His face was so odd it was conspicuous, but it took Zenos a moment to pinpoint why.

    ¡°Mad¡¯s not smiling,¡± he said.

    Zenos turned the photograph and found words on the back, elegantly written in black ink.

    ¡°At least I didn¡¯t get you a kitchen knife,¡± he read aloud. There were also signatures scrawled in different manners. ¡°Fiona, Elizabeth, Leo, Khelero...?¡±

    The fire crackled and Zenos heard foot falls. His head turned up and he saw a dark outline, visible by the light of the fire. Zenos was surrounded by small piles of raw vegetables and a pot of clear water was warming on the grill. The cleaver and picture were still in his hands. If it was an enemy, he would have been finished, but the stranger carried a walking staff.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad stepped into the light. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked in flat confusion.

    Zenos shook the cleaver around. ¡°Getting dinner started,¡± he said and stood, handed the picture to Mad. ¡°This fell out of your backpack.¡±

    Mad took the photo. There was a small smile on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He moved to return it to the backpack pocket.

    ¡°Did you defeat any automatons today?¡± he asked.

    Zenos blinked. ¡°That¡¯s what you want to say to me?¡±

    Mad blinked back at Zenos. He appeared confused.

    ¡°Where were you?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad sighed. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and when he looked at Zenos again, he did it with a smile. ¡°I have to prepare for the raid,¡± he said and took a seat on the stump beside Zenos. ¡°Time keeps moving on, you know.¡±

    Zenos crouched down and picked up a potato.

    ¡°Hand me that,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos put the brown lump in his hand and took another for his own. They started peeling with their knives. ¡°Madilhero?¡± Zenos said as he struggled to work the cleaver.

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°Who were the people in that picture?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mad uttered and paused. He had already stripped the potato and his eyes were set on the opaque white lump. Silence passed between them, where the only sounds were the crackling fire and whistling statues. Mad cut the potato into chunks in his lap.

    ¡°What do you think, Zenos,¡± he said and dropped the chunks into the boiling water. ¡°About the guild leaving the island?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean what do I think?¡± Zenos asked. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought about it.¡±

    ¡°Hand me another,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos dropped a potato in Mad¡¯s hand. For his part, he was still on potato one.

    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s cruel?¡± Mad continued. ¡°The guild knew the islanders couldn¡¯t survive without their help. Normal humans can¡¯t hope to fight a single monster¡­ forget a dungeon ruler. When the guild left, they doomed this island.¡±

    ¡°They must have had a reason,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°Money,¡± he answered. ¡°That¡¯s the reason. Bastilhas lost the Zenith War. In fact, they had been behind on their payments as late as two years ago. They surely had the money, but it wasn¡¯t worth paying protection for an expensive lumber mill so far from the mainland. The guild gave us the order to pack up.¡±

    ¡°But you risk your lives in dungeons, don¡¯t you?¡± Zenos asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that why you get paid?¡±

    Mad shook his head. ¡°Dungeons are dangerous,¡± he said, ¡°but the guild makes up for it in rewards earned from the dungeon itself. Monster crystals¡ªlike what you found in the automaton¡ªchests of gold and jewels, artifacts, and skill books especially.¡±

    Zenos cleaned the last of the skin from his potato and chopped it into chunks. He dropped them into the pot.

    ¡°Hand me another,¡± Mad said and Zenos placed a lump in his hand.

    ¡°If it¡¯s not for the money,¡± Zenos wondered aloud. ¡°Then is it for the respect?¡±

    Mad glanced at him and nodded. ¡°The guild cares more about respect than human lives. It¡¯s important¡ªI¡¯ll grant¡ªthat the nations of the world don¡¯t come to us for every little thing and expect us to solve their problems. But when the guild pulled out of Adheim, they left these people to die.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that Bastilhas¡¯ fault?¡± Zenos asked. ¡°They knew what would happen if they didn¡¯t pay.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care who¡¯s at fault,¡± Mad said. ¡°Whether the deaths of innocent people fall at the guild¡¯s feet or Bastilhas? That¡¯s an argument for politicians. Meanwhile, I¡¯m an adventurer.¡± He flashed a serious glare at Zenos. ¡°A year ago, I took matters into my own hands.¡±

    Zenos¡¯ eyes rounded. ¡°A dungeon raid?¡±

    Mad frowned. ¡°The islanders needed another year to evacuate, but the dungeon break was close at hand,¡± he said. ¡°Five gold ranks, five silver ranks, and five bronze ranks. I rounded them up from among those left-behinds that had stayed. We were understrength, but I couldn¡¯t convince anyone else to come.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I was the only survivor,¡± Mad said flatly.

    Zenos said nothing. He sat with his potato in his hand, stared through Mad¡¯s profile in the fire light. Mad¡¯s eyes were red with tears.

    ¡°We succeeded,¡± he continued. ¡°We gave the island another year, but the next raid would come. The guild packed up and left. Most of the civilians packed up and left.¡±

    ¡°You could have left,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°I almost did.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to turn back,¡± Mad had said the day they left Adheim Village. ¡°I was afraid I¡¯d get on the boat until it pulled out from the bay.¡± Zenos recalled the long look in Mad¡¯s eyes as he watched the sea.

    Zenos piped up. ¡°But, if there¡¯s no one left on the island, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°That hardly matters now,¡± Mad said. ¡°There are a few civilians left that are too stubborn to leave, but¡­ if I¡¯m being honest with you, this isn¡¯t about them.¡±

    Zenos frowned and grabbed a carrot. He passed it to Mad before taking one of his own.

    ¡°If all of the adventurers in the village came to the raid, we might have made it through with fewer losses,¡± Mad said. ¡°We might have lost no one. Do you blame them for not helping?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Zenos said and chopped the orange carrot. Its pieces fell into his lap.

    ¡°Adventurers are just¡­ one step better than normal humans,¡± Mad said. ¡°They might have magic on their side, but they¡¯re still people. They have their fears and their desires, their families and estates, people waiting for them back home. If you had to return home to your kids¡ªto bring your wife a paycheck from the guild¡ªwould you still go to an unsanctioned dungeon raid?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Zenos said again.

    ¡°Unsanctioned dungeon raids don¡¯t pay out life insurance,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°I¡¯d still go,¡± he said.

    Mad chuckled and shook his head. Chunks of potato and carrot rolled into the stew. ¡°Not big on hypotheticals, are you Zenos?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one, Mad,¡± Zenos said. He placed his carrots in the stew. ¡°I know what it¡¯s like to leave everyone behind; those people you relied on, and those who relied on you.¡± He made a fist in his lap. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯d go to the dungeon.¡±

    ¡°I want to blame them,¡± Mad said. A tear streaked down his face. ¡°I want to hate them. Those adventurers who abandoned the island¡ªabandoned us. Those nobles that placed a few gold coins over their people¡¯s lives. The guild, that cares more about appearances than their own damn actions!¡±

    The pair sat in silence at the foot of the bubbling pot.

    ¡°But I can¡¯t blame them,¡± Mad said quietly. ¡°Everyone has their own reasons for the choices they make. I couldn¡¯t even leave things as they were. I couldn¡¯t leave this place behind. The one thing that I can hate¡ªthe reason for everyone¡¯s pain¡ªis that dungeon ruler.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to stop the dungeon break,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°Our odds are hopeless,¡± Mad said. ¡°I could barely do it with fifteen adventurers. Between us, we¡¯re just walking to our deaths.¡±

    Zenos said nothing and the conversation appeared to end.

    Mad held out his hand. ¡°Hand me a carrot.¡±

    He placed a handful of monster crystals in Mad¡¯s hand.

    ¡°It might be hopeless,¡± Zenos said. ¡°But I¡¯m not here to lay down and die. You¡¯re going to fight, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Tears streamed down Mad¡¯s face. The crystals rattled in his hand and he clutched them tightly.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he wept.

 Chapter 33: Comrade or Friend

    Less than two weeks remained before the dungeon break. Zenos kept exercising, even if it did nothing for his stat total, because he looked forward to spars with Mad. Practical fighting experience was always important, and he could still learn from Mad¡¯s tricks. However, the seasoned adventurer had begun excusing himself from morning training. Eventually, he stopped coming all together.

    Presently, Zenos had just finished his laps on the forest track. Mad hadn¡¯t turned up that day, so rather than continue with the other exercises, he picked up his coat and headed for the baths. It was laundry day and Zenos hung his clothes up to dry while he took a dip in a steaming bath.

    ¡°The weather gets colder, and I look forward to these baths more and more,¡± Zenos said. He sighed comfortably as he sunk neck deep into the pool.

    Mad had said nothing about the photograph, but it was still on Zenos¡¯ mind. When he closed his eyes, he could almost hear laughter above the gurgling water. A raid of adventurers, he thought. They must have setup tents all around the top of the hill. Eating together, exercising together, and even bathing in the hot spring.

    In his previous life, those closest to him were the demon lords, his four lieutenants. Evylence and Balagrim were his oldest comrades, but there was also Cernunnos and Destrey. The former was a stoic woman, taller than most men, who dedicated every spare moment to improving her skill with a bow. The latter was sometimes naive, but the most compassionate, and when there was a disagreement between the four, he was the first to mediate. Dezarosa, the fifth demon lord, didn¡¯t appear in the demon emperor¡¯s court until late in his life. Although he counted them all as comrades, she arrived too late to travel with the emperor on campaign.

    It was those journeys that the demon emperor remembered most fondly. Days at sea, aboard his warships, or on land at the head of an army. Those long nights in the command tent, where Balagrim and Evylence would argue over tactics and losses. Zenos remembered the morning that he found Cernunnos practicing her archery, and saw a rare smile when she was satisfied by her performance. And, of course, the city of Bandune, where Destrey saved a woman¡¯s life.

    Bandune was a cruel siege. It was a dauntless city built on a desert oasis and its defenses were layered in three walls. Catapults, traps, and the best archers of the east continent made approach difficult, but it was the presence of a wizard that stalled the emperor¡¯s advance. A network of powerful magical barriers¡ªinvisible to the naked eye¡ªhad been raised around the city. They insured spells cast in a wide area would have no effect. If the demon emperor could not cover his army with a meteor storm of fireballs, then heavy casualties were assured.

    The desert had already taken a painful toll on the demon army. Further attrition was something they could ill afford. Therefore, instead of assaulting the battlements, the demon army dug in and starved its inhabitants of supplies.

    It was the dawn of the 31<sup>st</sup> day, just after first light. Dim stars were still visible in the cloudless desert sky. Cernunnos spotted a woman walking the battlements of the inner wall. It was between the changing of the guard and she was alone. Evylence made a remark about suicides. Balagrim, Evylence, Cernunnos, and the Demon Emperor had had committed many sieges by that point in their conquest. Suicide by leaping from the parapets was commonplace.

    Destrey had never laid siege before.

    He ran out from the command tent. The darkness of the early morning was yet deep enough for his assassin¡¯s skill: Shadow Step. He jumped from shadow to shadow, under the magic barrier and between cracks in the outer wall. The emperor watched through a telescope as the woman slipped from the battlement. Destrey caught her fall, and when he returned with her in his arms, the emperor saw how emaciated she had become.

    Destrey¡¯s yellow eyes gleamed as he set the woman on the ground of the demon emperor¡¯s tent. The feelings conveyed by his eyes were communicated to the demon lords and to the emperor himself. Evylence and Balagrim were dismissive, but Cernunnos agreed with Destrey. A decision had to be made, and the haggard woman, laid out on the edge of consciousness, proved its urgency.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°They may be NPCs,¡± Zenos quoted Destrey from the comfort of the bath. ¡°But we can¡¯t treat them like animals. If we don¡¯t want our men to die¡ªif we want to save everyone that we can¡ªwe must do that ourselves. We must bear responsibility for this.¡±

    Zenos smiled.

    The battle of Bandune ended with an assault. The demon emperor, together with his lords, rode at the head of the army. The hooves of their tall, jet-black warhorses thundered over the sand. Obliteration Beam, what would become the demon emperor¡¯s signature spell, was then only an idea. He executed it for the first time against Bandune, where its anti-magic barriers were large, but thin. A hole large enough for one horse was disintegrated through its three stone walls.

    The soldiers of Bandune filled the gap with their spears, but the demon emperor was determined to charge first and crash through their formation.

    Destrey beat him to the breach, carried fast by his spirited horse. With his twin shortswords out swung, he sliced apart the Bandune spears and leapt into the fray. The dissent among Balagrim and Evylence, when Destrey protested the siege, was that he was too young and inexperienced. They argued, by the telepathy they shared, that Destrey was not prepared for the rigor war demanded.

    Bandune demanded many sacrifices, from its citizens, its defenders, and from the demon army, but suffering on all sides was minimized by Destrey¡¯s skill and speed.

    That¡¯s what it meant to have comrades, wasn¡¯t it? he thought. The five of us were very different, but we were dedicated to one cause. We supported each other, right up to the end.

    Zenos¡¯ shoulders stiffened, and his smile turned cold, like the water that ran down the mountain. When he compared his experience as the demon emperor, to the adventurers that raided before him, he couldn¡¯t help but feel an emptiness in his heart. It was longing, like jealousy, so close to one another, but not quite the same. Zenos imagined the demon lords around a fire, not planning, but eating late into the night. He imagined further the early mornings, where they would sweat together, and train together, and laugh over their fortunes and mistakes.

    Zenos remembered again his palace hall, where he had sat at the head of a long table. That was the night before his fateful end, when he and the demon lords would give their lives, and only Dezarosa ate at his side. That was a quiet, somber evening. He couldn¡¯t imagine the adventurers ended their last night so silently. He imagined singing and drinking, and challenges and bets.

    Mad had said that there were others who didn¡¯t join his fateful raid. Those fourteen that followed him, they were not just comrades, but surely friends. Did Mad smile on their final night? Zenos wondered. If I could go back and change the end of my world, turn the curve of fate one last time, I think I would definitely smile for them.

    ¡°Oh, there you are,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos opened his eyes and jumped in the bath. There hadn¡¯t been a sound except for the birds and the whistle of the statues. Mad watched him from the clothes line, a smirk on his face.

    ¡°I thought you would still be exercising,¡± he said. ¡°But I see you finished up early.¡±

    ¡°Y-Yes,¡± Zenos stammered. Mad had caught him day dreaming and his thoughts were out of order.

    ¡°Do you want me to dry your clothes?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Zenos shouted. ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    Mad turned to the laundry.

    ¡°Are you getting in the bath?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad shook his head and turned half back to Zenos. ¡°Not yet, I was just worried you had gotten yourself in trouble,¡± he said.

    Zenos blinked and folded his arms over the edge of the bath. He rested his chin on his forearm. ¡°By the way, where have you been off to every morning?¡±

    ¡°Preparing for the raid, like I said before.¡±

    Zenos squinted and peered through him, like he was boring a hole between Mad¡¯s eyes.

    Mad chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. He made a shallow smile. ¡°Not good enough for you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You can find me if you¡¯re worried about me,¡± Zenos said. ¡°But I can¡¯t find you. Do you think that¡¯s fair?¡±

    Mad smiled. ¡°You¡¯re the fledgling here,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯m the one responsible for you. Let me do the worrying, alright?¡±

    Zenos stared hard at Mad, but the seasoned adventurer just waved and walked back to the trail.

    Say, Fiona, Elizabeth, Leo, and Khelero¡­ what do you think? Zenos thought as he settled back into the bath. Was Mad always like this? Sometimes he¡¯s smiling and chatting about this or the other thing, but then he¡¯s like this. I don¡¯t know him at all.

    He sighed.

    I guess it¡¯s time I figured out where he¡¯s going.

 Chapter 34: Throat of the World

    Zenos awoke before first light, early enough that frogs still croaked among the whistling statues. He crawled out of his tent to find the fire cold. Mad¡¯s own tent was open and a cursory glance proved the bedroll was empty.

    ¡°How early did he leave?¡± Zenos wondered aloud.

    He had put himself to bed not long after sundown. An early night ensured he¡¯d wake before dawn, but it meant he couldn¡¯t confirm whether Mad had come or gone. Zenos searched the dark, but there was no obvious sign of Mad¡¯s passing.

    Did he return at all?

    Zenos frowned and his reptilian eyes contracted in predatory diamonds. They scintillated with light.

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated.]

    The dark landscape was illuminated in red and blue hues. Mad¡¯s a necromancer, Zenos thought and scanned the ruins with his mana sense. He might be able to hide his footsteps, but he can¡¯t hide his magic. There must be some trace of him.

    Zenos had no luck with the campsite or the surrounding grounds. An opaque blue color indicated everything, from the ruins to the air, was starved of mana. What stood apart from the shroud of blue wasn¡¯t a trail to follow, but the yellow-red glow of a nearby dwarf statue. He heard the tone of its high-pitched whistle, and at its end, the statue¡¯s mana drained into the ground.

    There was a flash. It traveled so fast, Zenos nearly missed it; a pulse of mana! A red light raced along the ground, up the hill and through the campsite. It disappeared beneath the enormous dungeon doors. His heart thumped hard in his chest and he turned to follow the whistle of other statues.

    They alternated between mana-hot orange and cold, mana-less blue as they sent pulses from one statue to the next. It appeared that each statue was brighter than the last, until the final statue¡ªbrightest of all¡ªsent its final red pulse through the dungeon¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°They make this activity, such lights and sounds, only when adventurers are nearby.¡± Zenos remembered Mad¡¯s words. ¡°That is, only when magic is nearby.¡±

    ¡°Are they gathering mana from the air?¡± He wondered. ¡°Or, could it be from us? Where does this mana lead?¡±

    Zenos walked toward the door, traced the transmissions with his acute eyes. There were two distinct routes. The first was from the cluster of statues around the dungeon ruins. They delivered their mana pulse through the campsite. The second seemed to be from the south and it traveled along the cliff above the door. If there was a second cluster, Mad had to be there.

    He grabbed the necessities: A canteen of broth and survival bar, which he clipped to his belt and stuffed in his coat pocket. He drew his sword from the holographic screen of his inventory and held it tightly in hand.

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated] the system reported. He had refreshed his buff.

    I have only one use left of my Eyes. All told, that¡¯s fourteen minutes before I run out of mana sensing, Zenos thought as he ran along the mountain, through the ruins. I have to hurry. If anything gets in my way, I¡¯ll cut straight through it! His foot dropped through grass, into a hole hidden in the dark, and he fell forward.

    Snap! Zenos yelped, lost hold of his sword. His ankle had twisted and snapped on a rock.

    [Your HP was reduced from 800 to 760. You are crippled.]

    Zenos breathed hard through his nose. He didn¡¯t need the system to tell him that his foot was broken. Although the pain was significant, his constitution stat continued to mitigate his sense of the damage. What would be debilitating was just aggravating and he removed his foot from the hole.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    It was weeks ago, when Zenos had first arrived on Adheim, that he had experimented with health regeneration by cutting his arm with glass. For the reason, he wasn¡¯t concerned. He needed only straighten the foot and the system would handle the rest.

    [No combat detected,] it reported. [Regenerating.]

    He watched his HP tick up by 5 points. The cripple buff disappeared and in less than a minute his health bar was full. He tested his foot by turning it side to side. Full mobility, he thought and grabbed his sword. I can¡¯t waste any time watching my steps. If I get hurt, the system will handle it. I just need to focus on the pulse.

    The cliff was dark, but Zenos stared hard and he caught the transmission flash from one end to the other. He sprinted again toward the source.

    At the tail end his mana sense, as his last buff faded, he found it. Hidden behind a dense copse of pine trees and thick bushes, was a cave. It was tall and thin, just wide enough for Zenos to squeeze through past by his shoulder. And it howled.

    That¡¯s a whistle, he thought, sword firm at his side. A red pulse coursed from the cave¡¯s mouth, up the mountain and out of sight. Why would Mad be in here?

    Zenos swallowed. He wasn¡¯t afraid of darkness or tight spaces, but the hollow of the cave was black, darker even than the deep blues of the mana-less air. The depth of that pitiless shade made his stomach sink with unease.

    He made a deep breath, vented his anxious apprehension through his nose, and stowed his sword back in the inventory. The cave howled and he turned to his side. Carefully, he crept, toward the noise. The cave distorted the statues innocuous whistle and made them like the cries of beasts. Zenos made an uncertain step into the blackness, his hand grasped a wet stalactite and he slipped. His knee fell hard on the cave floor. Water soaked his pant leg.

    The HUD flickered.

    The cave howled.

    Zenos crept up from the floor. His boots, then soaked through, sloshed in the water. Blindly, he continued between the cave walls. He could not tell how long he had ventured down the cave, damp like the world¡¯s throat. He did not know whether it was night or day. Surely, the morning had come, but that thought was no comfort as he slipped into a knee-deep pool of cold water.

    He recovered and stressed his eyes against the dark. Eventually a light appeared to relieve him, its red glow obvious on the slick walls. It could only be a statue, and it did bellow, loud enough to hurt Zenos¡¯ ears. Despite that he continued to drag his feet through mud, until he turned with the twisting cave and faced the dwarf itself. It had emerged from the cave wall, where it hung from its stone arms. The dwarf was slouched forward, its eyes glowing as beams of red into the black water. Its howl rippled the water and shook the air, until the light disappeared.

    All at once, there was silence and darkness. Zenos heard only the beat of his own heart and a ringing in his ear. His breath quickened and he groped for the path forward. His HUD flickered wildly, appeared to scatter across vision.

    [Error,] he saw in red.

    Zenos felt the contour of the dwarf¡¯s head in his palm. Its eyes shined, blinded him. The howl battered his head and he fell backward through the black water. The HUD flickered and vanished.

    He had felt that way before, sinking¡ªlike falling¡ªthrough the black. In a time before life, he had stood on a black ocean, as vast as it was deep; infinite by every measure. Corpses floated beneath his feet as flotsam driven by a silent wind. Eyes, plentiful as stars, stared down at him from the heavens. Had he ever felt so breathless? The demon emperor that had conquered the world, who stood on a billion lives, trembled before its might.

    Zenos coughed, erupted from the water. He grabbed a silt floor and pulled himself from the pool. What he saw in the black, was it real or imagined? Had it happened in the past or future? The images, once so clear, became indistinct on the shore. Like a dream, they ran from his mind. His attention fell to worldly things, like the water he hacked from the lungs, and the piercing cold that made his water-drenched coat feel as ice.

    Zenos turned his head up, clutched his shoulders with his hands. His eyes rounded at the sight: A forest illuminated by the red glow of dwarf eyes. Its black trees grew from the cavern ceiling, and sunk leaves of moss into a subterranean lake. Someone was there at its center, their legs folded in meditation as they floated inches above the water. Although their back was turned, he recognized them instantly.

    ¡°Mad!¡± Zenos shouted.

    A creature rippled ahead of Mad. It leaned to the side and stared at Zenos with round eyes, soft and pallid like the moon. The faint light they shined was similar to Zenos¡¯ own, but somehow perverse.

    No, Zenos thought. Those aren¡¯t eyes¡­ they¡¯re mouths.

    The mirror of living water collapsed into the lake and Mad appeared to move, roused from a sleep. ¡°What did I tell you?¡± he asked as he turned to Zenos. His eyes were closed, but there was a smile on his face.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about me.¡±

 Chapter 35: Echoes of the Dead

    There were many dwarf statues. They were attached to the walls, where they hung from their arms as prisoners in stone chains. They were in the water, some beneath the black, and others rising above it with their heads upturned toward the stalactite ceiling. They were even among the black trees, tangled in their gnarled roots or captured by their thin, sickly trunks. Each of them glowed in their own sequence and turned the dark water red by the glare of their eyes.

    ¡°Dry Clothing, Level 1,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos felt the weight of water fade from his boots. His pants and long coat, soaked by water, puffed out with the warmth of freshly-laundered clothing. Mad had sat nearby on the silt-water shore, one arm slung over his tucked knees as the other hand supported his back. A red glow softly cast a shadow over his face.

    ¡°I followed the statues,¡± Zenos said. It was a half-truth. ¡°You said they react to adventurers, so I thought that if they were sounding in this cave, then you must be inside.¡±

    Mad nodded.

    The lighting changed and Zenos saw his eyes were closed. ¡°What is this place?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯ve come here before, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    Mad nodded.

    Zenos frowned. ¡°This cave is dangerous, Mad,¡± he said.

    ¡°I can handle it,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Handle what?¡± Zenos asked. ¡°That creature?¡±

    Mad rubbed his thumb along his index finger. ¡°So, you saw it,¡± he said.

    Zenos leaned toward Mad, supported his weight on his hand. ¡°What did I see? Tell me! Tell me anything. What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I am Echokhet,¡± he said and Zenos sighed, exasperated.

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak to me in riddles! If you¡¯re in danger, I should know!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t change what I am,¡± Mad continued, unfazed by the pleading. ¡°Adventurers can move within their grade, but I¡¯ll always be Gold Rank. The power of Mithril, or Adamantine, is forever out of my reach. But if I had that power¡­

    ¡°I could change this fate.¡±

    Zenos¡¯ felt his throat turn dry. His reptilian eyes rounded like saucers.

    All along, Mad¡¯s eyes had said ¡®this is fine,¡¯ ¡®this is okay,¡¯ and ¡®this is the way it has to be.¡¯ When did I misunderstand? When did it change, from ¡®I accept this death,¡¯ to ¡®I accept this sacrifice¡¯?

    Mad opened his eyes. [Error] flashed on Zenos¡¯ broken HUD. It was no trick of the light that made him appear strange, Zenos knew Mad¡¯s very eyes had turned to inky-black orbs.

    ¡°Did I ever tell you why I am on this island?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos shook his head.

    ¡°Among the Echokhet, it is a crime to use mana,¡± he said. ¡°The elders have long held the very power of our heritage a curse. Necromancers, you understand, are banished from the Khetarra. At worst, we are turned over to the Atilonians and their Inquisition. They say it protects us from our neighbors, removes the suspicion from my people, and that so long as we don¡¯t use our Sight we will be safe from annihilation. But they lied to us, Zenos. What my leaders fear is not Atilonia, it¡¯s the Third Path.

    ¡°It lays somewhere beyond the spirit and the body. The black ocean¡­ the echoes of dead worlds¡­ the home of Khet.¡±

    Gaia!

    Zenos¡¯ arms trembled.

    ¡°The very curse that connects us to the dead can serve as a bridge to her realm,¡± Mad said. ¡°She is demanding, but it¡¯s Khet who sets our limits. If she can break that ceiling, then I¡¯ll give her anything.¡±

    What Mad wants¡­ he doesn¡¯t know the words, but it could only be the Player System.

    ¡°Did you meet her?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad nodded.

    Zenos¡¯ eyes flashed, he felt he would leap at Mad, grab him by the shoulders and shout at him. What did she say?! he cried against the boundary of his mind. What did the Director tell you?!

    The Director, she was the entity responsible for enforcing the scripts. She had touched Zenos¡¯ life many times before, intervening whenever the demon emperor diverged from his instructions. There was no question that a billion lives laid at Zenos¡¯ feet and that he was responsible for the sword he swung, but the Director orchestrated that game. Zenos would also give anything to know why.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°What¡­ did she say?¡± He managed to speak the words.

    ¡°She asked me what I wished for,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos swallowed, his eyes fixated on Mad as he awaited the Director¡¯s answer.

    ¡°And she said, it¡¯s not enough.¡± Mad¡¯s eyes fell half-lidded. ¡°She said I am not what she¡¯s waiting for.¡±

    Mad¡¯s eyes closed and he fell backward. His head bounced on the silt.

    ¡°Mad!¡± Zenos shouted and stumbled to his side. When he touched Mad¡¯s arm, his HUD flickered, and for a moment he saw the target window. Mad¡¯s HP was normal, but there a strange icon flashed beneath the health bar.

    Debuff!

    A debuff was the inverse of a buff, almost always harmful, and sometimes deadly. Zenos was not quick enough to read the debuff¡¯s details, but it occurred to him that he had caught Mad in the middle of something.

    Water gurgled from the middle of the black lake. A hand took shape from the liquid, grasped the surface of the lake, and appeared to pull its body from the depths. It was as tall as Mad, dressed in a liquid fabrication of his own clothing. Its eyes, white holes like yawning mouths, glowed at Zenos. The statues howled.

    ¡°Is that Khet?¡± Zenos wondered.

    The creature lurched forward; its haphazard steps fell silent on the still lake. Zenos tried to move, but found himself halted. He was mesmerized. The creature¡¯s eyes seemed to draw his full attention and drink of his urgency and purpose. The seduction was sweet, comforting, and impossible to resist. The cacophony of noises fell away and Zenos thought of its milky, round eyes; such wide, soft-white holes that led down into a blank, empty consciousness. Zenos¡¯ heart beat slowed and his arms relaxed. Static filled his ears.

    [Error] flashed in his mind. The red letters appeared in the middle of his pure-white dream, juddered him awake.

    Lucky! he thought. If it weren¡¯t for the system, I¡¯d have been caught.

    Zenos was aware, but still locked in place. He clenched his hands and struggled against the paralysis, to no avail. ¡°Inventory,¡± he stammered. The command caused the system screen to flicker and sputter away.

    [Error] he saw.

    I can¡¯t move, but I can still speak!

    ¡°Inventory,¡± Zenos repeated, louder. The screen appeared briefly, distorted and broken.

    [Error.]

    The creature appeared to realize its trap had been damaged. It halted on the lake and coiled its flexible arm into a tight spring.

    ¡°Inventory!¡± Zenos shouted, strained to reach for the glitched screen.

    Red light illuminated the cave and the statues moaned a low timbre. The creature¡¯s hand launched with startling acceleration. It swerved through the air on a corkscrew of black water, stark against the red.

    The hand sailed high overhead. Water like black blood wet Zenos¡¯ face and the creature¡¯s trailing arm curved into the ground. [!@#($)*#@] the system informed him with garbled noise. [$#!@%#^@(*]

    Zenos felt a weight lifted from his shoulders and his body was limber again.

    ¡°That was the Compulsion,¡± he said, flourished the [Longsword of the Novice] in his hand. ¡°How you came to possess a facet of the Eyes, I¡¯ll never know, but Khet never needed such tricks!¡±

    The creature reeled in its damaged arm and coiled the other for a second attack. I could dodge it, Zenos thought. I could move left or right, but I¡¯d be no closer to destroying this creature. I¡¯ll bet my life on a charge. I¡¯ll go straight through!

    The lake slipped his mind. In the moment, there was no a pool of water, but a surface of bright red light. As he ran toward it, memories of Baldune flit through his mind, of horses and men stampeding through spears regardless of danger. His boot fell on the lake and it hardened as concrete beneath his feet.

    Zenos swung his sword. The creature launched its arm on a coil of rushing water. It narrowly missed his face, cut hair from the side of his head. The dwarfs came to a fever pitch, their deafening chorus loud in his ear. The creature¡¯s eyes rounded, as if to scream. Zenos flashed his silver blade, ducked under the monster¡¯s arm and came out behind it.

    [Error] blinked in Zenos¡¯ eyes.

    Black water dripped from the tip of his sword. He spun on his heel and saw the creature¡¯s torso had fallen backward, but though it had been cut deeply, it was not severed. A length of water dangled the chest behind the creature¡¯s legs, so thin it could be torn, yet it was already regenerating. Zenos took his sword in both hands and thrust for its face. At the same time, the creature lashed down with its whip-like arm.

    [@$*&%@#!] the system reported and Zenos was blinded.

    [#$^&($#¡ªConnection established.]

    Zenos blinked. He stood in the dim, white light of a dark crater. Corpses lined the ground beneath his feet and orange dust floated from their hollow eyes. It drifted into the air and disappeared, against a night sky of falling stars. Lights flashed in the distance and the world rumbled beneath him.

    Defeat, he thought.

    In the center of the crater, far ahead of Zenos, knelt a large creature with enormous wings. Its silver armor was tarnished, broken, and scattered in pieces. A massive, black sword had been plunged through its chest. The dark blade seethed with shadows like flames. Despite a mortal wound, Zenos knew the creature¡ªdragon-like with its snout and talons¡ªstill lived. It clung to a thread of life.

    A being loomed over the reptile. It was tall and shaped like a man, but naked, and black. It was a shade of black so deep that it hurt to focus on. Its form appeared to wobble in Zenos¡¯ eyes, move like a mirage, as if its very existence was in flux. Zenos made a breath and it turned its head, stared at him with its white, hollow eyes.

    A voice flooded Zenos¡¯ mind. It spoke to his thoughts in a language he couldn¡¯t comprehend. Its words, like its shape, seemed to change with the moment, but the meaning was always the same. Then it reached him, a signal crowded by static, words hidden among the cries of the dead.

    ¡°I have found you.¡±

    Zenos lost strength in his legs and he collapsed. Water splashed beneath him and he sunk into a dark pool. Further he drifted, gripped by the cold, until something pulled him upward.

    ¡°Zenos!¡± he heard.

    Water gurgled from his mouth. Hands compressed his chest. Warnings flashed in the dark behind his closed eyes. [Suffocation damage,] they read. [HP reduced.] Zenos felt his life slip away, but the hands continued their rhythmic compressions.

    ¡°3, 2, 1¡­!¡± he heard and water spit from his mouth.

    ¡°3, 2, 1¡­!¡±

    Zenos coughed hard, opened his eyes. Mad was hunched over him, dripping with water. ¡°You¡¯re going to be okay,¡± he said. ¡°Just keep breathing.¡±

    Zenos turned to cough over the floor. What happened? he thought. That creature attacked me, but then¡­ nothing. Where am I? Is Mad safe? He looked up and saw Mad¡¯s face. Although he felt numb and his lungs shuddered with the need to cough, he found a reason to smile.

    His eyes¡­ are normal.

 Chapter 36: Home Cooking

    The sky was richly colored in orange and pink. Its lavender clouds drifted eastward, far above tall pines and dark-green firs. In the breaks of the forest, where the trees were short and the mountain was steep, one could see the ocean horizon, marked by the white-cap waves of rough seas. A cool breeze brushed Zenos and fluttered the campsite fire. Its logs to popped loudly amidst the evening song of gentle birds, and the quiet tune of solemn dwarfs.

    There was a hot pan and a steel pot on the grill. One was filled with a brown-colored stew, its chunks of meat and vegetable highlighted by the red specks of exotic spices. The other was covered by a lid and whistled with steam. Zenos watched Mad stir the pan while he warmed both hands on a tin cup of hot water.

    ¡°It looks like stew,¡± Zenos said from his stump by the fire.

    Mad wagged his finger and smiled. ¡°Let the water boil off,¡± he said. ¡°Then you¡¯ll see. It¡¯s an old recipe from the homeland.¡±

    ¡°From the Khetarra?¡±

    There were gaps in Zenos¡¯ memory. He could recall entering the cave and talking with Mad, and the face of that creature he certainly fought, but little else between then and his gasping on the shore. Whether that memory was important or not, Zenos tried to put it in the back of his mind, and enjoy a day ended well.

    Mad looked at him. ¡°Khetarras,¡± he said. ¡°There are several in the middle east and upper north east regions of Enora¡ªthe mainland. The Echokhet are nomadic or tucked away on Atilonian reservations. Those still free make long migrations on horseback and at their journey¡¯s end, they feast in their Krets, their largest tents. This dish is something you¡¯d see there, but in a bigger pan, and crowded by people. They scoop the rice with their hands and dip it in the sauce, or squish into little bowls that they fill with curry.¡±

    Zenos made a shallow frown and Mad chuckled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you can use a spoon.¡±

    ¡°Do you miss it?¡± he asked.

    Mad appear to pause and cast thoughtful eyes at his bubbling pan. He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t have the right to say I miss it,¡± he said. ¡°Necromancy doesn¡¯t come by accident and the children are taught to avoid it. I chose this path. I am the one that struck my name in the ink.¡±

    Zenos nodded.

    ¡°That cavern,¡± Mad said. ¡°Dungeons are, almost always, beneath the ground. They bubble with black water and over time it erodes soft stone and soil. Those places, often hidden far beneath the surface, poison the water table.¡±

    Zenos looked at the birds nestled on the branches of nearby trees. ¡°Yet I see wildlife all around,¡± he said.

    ¡°It¡¯s a poison that targets humans,¡± he said. ¡°The none-magical, specifically. The Atilonians call it the Wasting. It¡¯s a fatigue of sorts, where you lose the desire to eat, drink, or move. The victims frequently die from paralysis, or thirst, and those lucky enough to find treatment will die emaciated. There is no cure.

    ¡°The guild is responsible for locating and containing the water. Necromancers, because of their connection to the water, are an important part of that process.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you left your homeland?¡± Zenos asked.

    The pan of curry bubbled.

    ¡°To do good?¡± Mad wondered aloud. He made a slight smile. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t so selfless then, I was still a kid. I left because I wanted to fight. I think most children have that dream, of taking a sword to the Atilonians, and charging at the head of an army of Echokhetan ghosts. We may never reclaim the northern territory and especially our birthplace in the Chotokhetzam, but those were the things I thought of when I rode out from my Khetarra. Seven days in the sun on the hot savannah, six nights in the cold, when the frost bit the tall grass and predators prowled the dark. I was thirsty, and hungry, but I filled myself on those dreams: War and vengeance.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°I did the same,¡± said Zenos. ¡°War and vengeance. You say Adohas has its troubles, and I can see your sincerity in that, but my world was doubly so. It had more than its fair share of war; more tragedy, and vengeance than anyone should bear. I made the decision to fight when I was young. I wanted to change that world.¡±

    ¡°Then you know how it feels,¡± Mad said. ¡°But we make our peace with reality eventually. Many things can¡¯t be changed, especially by one person. Not without upheaving everything and the peace people live by.¡±

    Have I made that peace? Zenos wondered, stared at his pale reflection in his water tin. Peace with what could not be changed.

    ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s how I found the cave,¡± Mad said, turned the subject to the present matter. ¡°I have known about it for a month, and it¡¯s a recent one. It must have appeared after my last sweep four months ago. That forest inside¡­ there are always bizarre growths, but it¡¯s the largest I¡¯ve seen. On its own the black water is a poison to the mundane¡ªthe ordinary¡ªbut in large quantities it warps the boundaries that separate the living and dead.¡±

    ¡°The echo of dead worlds,¡± Zenos muttered.

    ¡°Do you think your world is in there?¡± Mad asked.

    He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°The Echokhet believe that there is only ever one world, but that we stand at the end of a long chain. That there was a world before ours, and a world before that one, and that after our turn, a new world will be born.¡±

    The Cycle, Zenos thought.

    ¡°The black water is sacred in a sense,¡± Mad continued. ¡°As sacred as a curse can be. My elders once said it was the blood of the last world.¡± He shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s some truth to that. Only Khet knows for sure.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you did there, it turned your eyes black,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad frowned and glanced at his curry. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I reached for something I shouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    ¡°Power?¡±

    ¡°More power,¡± Mad said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what complicates men?¡±

    ¡°Greed complicates us all,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°But not the gods,¡± Mad added, stirred his pan. ¡°The gods can take whatever they like and no one calls them greedy.¡±

    Zenos nodded.

    ¡°I can only abide by Khet¡¯s decision,¡± Mad said. ¡°But I don¡¯t feel blessed for the encounter. It wasn¡¯t wondrous, or awe inspiring. I met with a mother of fathomless mana, who would not spare a drop for the sake of her son. I could have died, you know. A little less skilled, a little less lucky, and I could have been lost in the black ocean. She wasn¡¯t happy to see me. She didn¡¯t even say goodbye.¡±

    ¡°I am not what she¡¯s waiting for,¡± Zenos remembered what Mad said at the edge of the lake.

    ¡°You could tell what she was feeling?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Sadness,¡± Mad said. ¡°Loneliness, I think. Excitement, and then¡­ disappointment. That was me.¡±

    Zenos leaned back over his stump, took a sip from his warm cup. ¡°What do we do now?¡±

    Mad wiped his eyes with his thumb and summoned a smile from some deep reserve of happiness. ¡°We eat,¡± he said. ¡°At the end of a perilous journey, over desert, savannah, and steppe, on the old path marked by stones and sacred graves, we eat. Tonight, it¡¯s in the fashion of my people.¡±

    He prepared a bowl. A dense pile of sticky white rice and two ladles full of a curry of stewed meat, vegetables, and Echokhetan spices. Zenos went at it with a large spoon. It was hot in the mouth and throat, spicy enough to clear his sinuses and dribble snot down his nose. But it was delicious.

    Two servings down and it was nightfall, when the stars peeked through the waning light. The fire crackled. The pan was nearly empty.

    ¡°Thank you, by the way,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°Hm?¡± Zenos looked up from his third bowl. A piece of rice was stuck to his cheek.

    Mad smiled at the empty pot, stared through it with those distant eyes. ¡°I found something in the black ocean, after Khet rejected me. It made me an offer¡ªan exchange¡ªthat would give me the power I wanted. I think I would have taken it, if you hadn¡¯t turned up.¡±

    The creature, Zenos thought.

    ¡°But looking back on it,¡± he continued, ¡°it was probably a deal I would regret.¡±

    Zenos cleared his face. ¡°I¡¯m going to help you,¡± he said and set his bowl in his lap. ¡°So, don¡¯t go making deals with strange creatures. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re not mithril or adamantine, or whatever rank you say you have to be.¡±

    Mad looked at him.

    ¡°This dungeon break that¡¯s coming,¡± Zenos said. ¡°We¡¯ll definitely stop it.¡±

 Chapter 37: The Technique of Persistence

    Four days remained, but Zenos had slept poorly. He had suffered bizarre dreams of black halls and moon-lit chambers, where white light scattered on pools of infinite depth. In those dreams, he was chased over the pools by an invisible force. If he hid, he would be found; if he ran, he would be caught; and if he fought, he would be torn apart. When he died, he woke in the early hours before sunrise, gasping and cold with sweat.

    Presently, Zenos stood on the athletic track with a four-foot long stick in his hand. The dungeon ruler would not forgive fatigue, he knew he had to be stronger. The Player System could increase his stats, but without skills, he had to rely on simple form and technique. That meant practice with Mad.

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated]

    Zenos charged, his stick out swung. By activating his mana sense, he took advantage of Mad¡¯s reliance on magic: The subtle trip wires, snares, and pits, controlled by long threads of animated hair, appeared red against the blue background. It was the only way Zenos could get close enough to attack.

    Mad smiled and their sticks cracked together. ¡°Good,¡± he said.

    Zenos pressed against Mad¡¯s stick, but though his arms trembled, Mad wouldn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°Still as strong as ever,¡± Zenos said and broke away.

    ¡°That¡¯s the difference a rank can make,¡± Mad said. ¡°As you are, I would say you¡¯re about C-Grade Bronze, so that puts two ranks between us. If I were to fight an adamantine adventurer, our results would be about the same.¡±

    ¡°I know that,¡± Zenos said and wiped his face. He balanced his stick in his hand.

    Mad smiled and pounded the ground with his make-shift staff. ¡°Then come again!¡±

    ¡°I was going to anyway!¡±

    He charged and they clashed over the athletic track, their training sticks knocking together as Zenos flowed from one strike to the next. Although swordsmanship had many forms, Zenos knew none of them. As the demon emperor, he was used to overpowering his enemies with raw strength. As a player, he was reckless of danger.

    When he lunged too deeply, Mad sidestepped his thrust, and slapped his hand with his staff. When he swung too wide, Mad leaned away from the swing and pummeled his stomach. The player system healed his bruises, so he would attack again, even after being thrown to the ground. Durability and persistence became his best assets.

    ¡°I¡¯m a spellcaster, so I can¡¯t really teach you good techniques,¡± Mad said as he effortlessly deflected a strike. ¡°But I can help you learn by experience. Art with exercise is useful, but art without exercise isn¡¯t, so even without instruction, you might discover helpful insights.¡±

    Zenos panted heavily. ¡°Then talk less art.¡± He spit the ground and charged again.

    Mad smiled. Zenos lunged with the tip of his stick and Mad moved to block, but it was a feint! Zenos locked his stance and spun into a back swing, their sticks collided.

    ¡°That was good,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos snarled. Good isn¡¯t enough, he thought, I want to hit him! He stepped back and swung again, and every time Mad moved to block, he turned his stick to a different angle. Mad peddled back and Zenos pressed forward. They played a game of anticipation until Mad had enough, slapped Zenos on the hand, his shoulder, his knee, and his side. Mad kicked Zenos in the ribs and sent him down onto a patch of leaves.

    ¡°If you get too wound up in feints, you¡¯ll give your opponent the advantage,¡± Mad said. ¡°Even if you¡¯re quick, a battle is about hitting your enemy¡ªnot pretending to.¡±

    Zenos pressed himself up on a patch of leaves. ¡°I can still fight,¡± he said.

    ¡°No, I think we should call it a day,¡± Mad said.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°But¡ª!¡±

    A net of animated threads pulled up around Zenos and dragged him into the air.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t even notice that trap,¡± Mad said and pointed at his eye. ¡°This won¡¯t do you any good if you don¡¯t use it.¡±

    Zenos swung silently in his net of humiliation. If I can¡¯t beat him like this, he thought, how am I going to face the dungeon ruler?

    Mad stamped the ground with his staff and the net was released; Zenos fell to the ground with a thump. ¡°What do you say to lunch instead?¡±

    Zenos glared at Mad as he was laid out on his back. The seasoned adventurer appeared upside-down against the canopy of the winter wood. ¡°Fine,¡± he said.

    Mad helped Zenos onto his feet and the pair headed up the hill. Nearly a month of living in those woods had changed the landscape. Leaves had been brushed from their trail paths and the dirt had been packed by their frequent walks. Their campsite looked lived in, with a mess of pots and pans around its charcoal-black firepit, a tall pile of corner-cut logs stacked by the tents, and even the crude wall of bricks Zenos had erected to keep the wind from blowing on his tent.

    For lunch: Broad wheat noodles in a cheese sauce, flavored with chestnuts and morel mushrooms from the forest. Mad had picked them that morning and they were piled in a basket beside the fire. Presently, Zenos sat beside Mad, washing the morels in a basin before handing them off to be cut. They sizzled among chopped chestnuts in the frying pan.

    ¡°So, your eyes can see mana?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos nodded, splashed a morel in the water and cleaned it of dirt. ¡°They do,¡± he answered and handed the next morel over.

    ¡°What¡¯s that like?¡±

    Zenos looked at him. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±

    Mad cut the morel¡¯s stem and shook his head. ¡°Do you think everyone can see mana?¡±

    ¡°No, but you¡¯re a spellcaster,¡± he said. ¡°If you can¡¯t see the mana you¡¯re using, how do you work with it?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s sort of a feeling,¡± Mad said and gestured to his stomach. ¡°You get it in your gut. A sickness, or a weightlessness, depending on the power. Adventurers tend to get nauseous as their mana runs out, though¡­ worse can happen.¡±

    ¡°But you do see spirits,¡± Zenos said. ¡°With that¡­ Sight you called it?¡±

    ¡°The Ru-chet,¡± he answered. ¡°But it¡¯s not seeing with your eyes, again it¡¯s a feeling. I can turn the Ru-chet to the Cho-chet, which is the difference between feeling and seeing, but that can have its own risks.¡±

    ¡°When I see mana, the world turns blue, and mana itself appears as red heat where it¡¯s thickest,¡± Zenos said. ¡°Although I see it for a while, it¡¯s not something I can keep up for long.¡±

    Mad took another morel. ¡°I think both mana and the dead prefer to keep their secrets,¡± he said.

    ¡°It was different in my first world,¡± Zenos said. ¡°Mana was apparent in the air, visible without really trying. But then, that world had very little magic at all.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a paradise for Atilonians.¡±

    Zenos shook his head. ¡°You could call my world many things, but it was far from a paradise.¡±

    ¡°Did it have a name?¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°Your world.¡±

    Zenos blinked. He knew his world¡¯s name, but it wasn¡¯t one for NPCs. Like the demon emperor, elements of Ark World¡¯s story were left in abstract for the benefit of the players. To the NPCs, their world was ¡®the World¡¯ and the demon emperor was ¡®the Demon Emperor,¡¯ even to himself. The NPCs that were his family, even, were themselves unnamed characters.

    I could say Ark World, he thought, but then, isn¡¯t this also Ark World? It must be.

    ¡°Zenos?¡± Mad prodded his shoulder. ¡°Could you hand me a morel?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± he uttered and pushed a mushroom into his hand. ¡°It was called¡­ Akaron.¡±

    ¡°Akaron, huh? Interesting.¡±

    A morel splashed into the butter and sizzled with the other ingredients. Mad checked the cheese sauce that warmed in its own pan, and Zenos stared at the trees, his hands dipped in the basin.

    Akaron.

    ¡°The cheese sauce is holding together and the noodles are done, we should be good to eat soon,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos nodded.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Mad asked as he tossed the morels and chestnuts in their pan.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Zenos said. ¡°After your last dungeon raid, how did you go on?¡±

    Mad stopped and Zenos heard just the pop and sizzle of the pan. He turned his head and saw him staring at the pan.

    ¡°They were all my friends,¡± he said. ¡°But four of them, well, it feels like I knew them my whole life.¡±

    ¡°Raised together?¡±

    Mad nodded. ¡°In a manner of speaking, yes. The guild acts as a magical orphanage for the mana-talented. It gives the abandoned a home, training, and an outlet for their abilities. It also keeps the Atilonian public safe. That was where I was, in the heart of Atilonia, because I was kid that wanted to take on the world. Luckily the guild picked me up and put me in an incubation group.¡±

    Zenos blinked and Mad glanced his way. ¡°They raise us in groups of five,¡± he continued, ¡°because when we become adults, we become an adventuring party.¡±

    ¡°Were they the people in that photograph?¡±

    ¡°Fiona, Elizabeth, Leo, and Khelero,¡± Mad said. ¡°Twenty years still wasn¡¯t enough time.¡±

    ¡°I still think about them every day,¡± Zenos said. ¡°People I saw for centuries, the ones I left behind¡­ in Akaron. Those that I couldn¡¯t save.¡±

    A cold wind blew through the camp and rattled the tents. The conversation fell away and Mad began dishing the food. A pile of noodles was mixed with white cheese sauce, and finally the morels and chestnuts were poured on top. Zenos took a bowl and tin of water, and sat on a stump close to the fire.

    ¡°It¡¯s not really a lunch time topic, but¡­¡± Mad hesitated as he thoughtlessly tangled his noodles around a spoon. ¡°Did you want to hear what happened?

    ¡°What happened at the last dungeon raid.¡±

 Chapter 38: Liars Smile: Part 1

    It was about this time last year. A cloud of ash had blown in from the west and brought an early snow, blanketed the Adderhorn in gray and white. Despite the cold, our raid fared well. We had setup tents down to the bottom of the hill, along the road that brokered the dungeon ruins. The day before the anticipated break, we even had a party.

    Consider it a celebration of sorts. Some villagers and even old-man Lowether showed up, and he brought important meat and ales for a feast. They gave us their thanks, their well-wishes, and their encouragement. They offered us gifts, and even prayed with us for success. Come sundown, they went on their way down the mountain, but the party continued into the night.

    It was dark and the moon was full. I had sat on a roof top with my legs dangled off the side, watching Khelero carouse with newbies by a firepit. I wasn¡¯t pleased about it, but I didn¡¯t object. I guess Fiona noticed because she climbed to the roof and sat beside me.

    ¡°Did you want a drink?¡± she asked. There was a lidded tin mug in her hand and she smelled like alcohol. I shook my head.

    Fiona shrugged at me. ¡°Are you alright with this?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, ¡°but it¡¯s not that I don¡¯t understand why, it¡¯s just¡­.¡±

    ¡°The bronze ones,¡± she said and pointed them out with her finger. ¡°It¡¯s their first dungeon raid.¡±

    ¡°It sets a bad example,¡± I said.

    She chuckled.

    I frowned at her. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    ¡°Examples only matter if we live to learn from them,¡± she said.

    ¡°The odds of our raid surviving would be better if Khelero wasn¡¯t drinking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m drinking,¡± Fiona said.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°You should be,¡± she said.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t finished drawing up our plans,¡± I said. ¡°Every strategy has to be considered in case of a dungeon mutation; our plans of attack and retreat.¡±

    ¡°There won¡¯t be a retreat,¡± Fiona said.

    I stared at her and she stared twice as hard through me. Her small, blue eyes bored a hole through my head. ¡°Liz and Leo agree with me, and I agree with Khel,¡± she said. ¡°So, if you¡¯re thinking of retreats, then you¡¯re just planning for your own escape.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about us,¡± I said. ¡°What about the bronze and silver ranks?¡±

    ¡°And what about the island?¡± she asked and took a sip from her mug.

    I pursed my lips.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she said. ¡°We either win or we die, Mad. All of us.¡±

    I watched Khelero again. He was still down in the camp, clinking mugs and singing songs. Wherever there was a sigh or a cold stare, he seemed to appear with an anecdote and a mug of ale. That night, his word was as good as the guildmaster¡¯s.

    ¡°We¡¯ll make it through this,¡± he would say. ¡°Just do as the Instructor says, and you¡¯ll have your own stories to tell.¡±

    That was my nickname among the bronze ranks: Instructor. You see, Adheim was a frontier settlement, but its dungeon qualified it for guild involvement. It was too small for a real boss, understand? When the last party of gold ranks was reassigned, we were moved in. We were officers of the guild, its local leaders, and instructors, since the guild liked to send recruits to a dungeon they considered ¡®low risk.¡¯

    I took my job a little more seriously than the others. As far as leading the party, Khelero was what we¡¯d call a Face. Ostensibly, the Face decided where we went and what we fought, because they were good with people. The reality was I was consulted for those decisions, and when it came to combat, I decided what our tactics were. Instruction came naturally to me, and the bronze ranks were quick on the uptake.

    Fiona slipped a paper into my lap. ¡°Happy birthday, by the way,¡± she said. ¡°I know Khelero got you a knife and Liz and Leo got you that ridiculous backpack, but I thought I¡¯d get something a little different.¡±

    ¡°A photo?¡± I asked.

    Fiona sipped from her mug. ¡°You know we don¡¯t think of you as¡­ some sort of camp serf, right?¡± she said.

    I cracked a small smile. ¡°Camp serf?¡± I asked.

    She scratched her head and sighed hard. ¡°You¡¯re so damn hard to get gifts for!¡± she shouted. ¡°You¡¯re too practical. Everything has to have some sort of use. So, Khel got you a new knife, because why not, right? You do most of the cooking anyway, and you¡¯d been wanting one. And then Liz was thinking you¡¯re pretty much our quartermaster, but you don¡¯t have a backpack big enough for everything you need, so she pulled Leo into getting you a bigger backpack. I mean, that stuff is nice but¡ª¡±

    Fiona was easily wound up, especially when she was tipsy. I knew an interruption was necessary to keep her on her train of thought.

    ¡°Thanks for the gift, Fiona,¡± I said.

    ¡°I wanted to get you something that wasn¡¯t just¡­ something you¡¯d use to make our lives easier,¡± she said.

    ¡°So, you settled on a photograph?¡± I asked.

    She nodded as she pouted over her mug and dangled her feet. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t what you wanted,¡± she said. ¡°This raid. But, every time we vote, even if you don¡¯t get your way¡ªeven if you feel so strongly that we should do another thing¡ªyou still come with us.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re a party,¡± I said.

    ¡°It¡¯s been two decades, and you still say that,¡± she said. There was a small smile on her face. ¡°Families don¡¯t stick as well as we do. That¡¯s why I thought a photo would be nice, right now.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    I blinked at Fiona. I remember there was a thought on my mind, but I saw she had more she wanted to say.

    ¡°So, you remember that we¡¯re a party of five,¡± she said. ¡°That we¡¯ve always included you.¡±

    ¡°And if something should happen,¡± she said more quietly. ¡°My feelings can still be expressed.¡±

    I had a good sense of danger. When something was amiss, I¡¯d pick up on it right away. That quality made me a good tactician and teacher, but the reason I wasn¡¯t the Face, was because I wasn¡¯t good with people. I could tell something was wrong, but I couldn¡¯t say a word.

    ¡°Well,¡± Fiona said, ¡°I¡¯m going to see how everyone¡¯s holding up.¡±

    She flashed a smile and hopped down the side of the building. Her mug remained on the ledge of the roof.

    I sometimes wonder, if I was just a little wiser, could I have understood what she was telling me? If I had known, could I have avoided those moments I would regret, or would they have become more painful? There was a curtain over my eyes. I kept plans of battle in my mind, anticipated our actions, and our sacrifices, but I was one step behind her.

    Late that night, I found Khelero in the raid pavilion. It was a large tent with a table in the middle. Its black surface was carved in a grid and pieces, like tokens of ourselves, were arranged in a formation. Most everyone was asleep, but he had stayed up to plot on his own.

    ¡°You should rest,¡± I said to him as I brushed aside the entry flap.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be the main tank,¡± Khelero said, his arms folded on the table. He was crouched down for an eye-level look at his mock battlefield. ¡°Cassius, the Silver Rank from Party Three, will be my off tank. After five attacks, he¡¯ll take aggro so my armor cools off.¡±

    These terms were the sorts of brief exchanges party leaders had before a raid. A tank was an adventurer that gathered the ¡®aggro¡¯ of the party¡¯s opponent. While the opponent focused on the tank¡¯s high defense, the party DPS would destroy it. Raids were more complicated than that, because the dungeon ruler didn¡¯t always follow the script. Like an actor improvising their role, they would always act a little unexpected.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± I said.

    ¡°But we¡¯re missing a second gold rank party,¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve accounted for the DPS loss.¡±

    ¡°Even so,¡± he said and stood to face me. ¡°This battle will rely on our durability, and Cassius is just Silver Rank, so it falls on me.¡±

    That was how Khelero was. He walked around the table and stared straight in my eyes, his black pupils like solid, quiver-less beads. He had been drinking all night, but the alcohol had already worn off. It didn¡¯t affect the martial classes nearly as hard as it did the spellcasters. If it was the night before a battle, we¡¯d meet by the candlelight when Fiona, Leo, and Elizabeth were sound asleep. That time, the entire raid slept soundly on a good meal, and we exchanged our looks in the dark, because we had to see plainly.

    ¡°Optimistically,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m expecting a minimum of four losses.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking the same,¡± he said and turned to the table.

    ¡°You¡¯re one of them,¡± I said.

    Khelero nodded. He leaned over the table, and I saw how he wore his brown suspenders and spotless white shirt. It was Barusian attire, something that came from the region now known as the North Territory Administration: NTEA, or simply, the North Territory. Khelero was once a noble scion, you see, but the Atilonians overran his country. He went to the guild for survival. Many did the same.

    I hope you don¡¯t think that because Khelero was our charismatic face that he was an idiot, or somehow prone to childish fantasies. It may have been a fantasy that brought us to that dungeon raid, but whenever he was afraid, he would change into clothes from the old Baru homeland. He thought they were lucky. It meant he was serious.

    ¡°What do you have in mind?¡± Khelero asked me.

    I stepped up beside him. ¡°Elizabeth from Gold Group One, Samantha from Silver Group Three, and Diego from Bronze Group Two, will handle healing. We will have ten DPS total, with the tank from Bronze One wielding a zweihander for the duration. I don¡¯t expect his aggro to be an issue.¡±

    ¡°So long as he¡¯s not using a shield,¡± Khelero remarked. ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°Fiona, Leo, and I from Gold Group One will be the backbone of our DPS,¡± I continued, pointing at the back line of token characters. ¡°Between Fiona¡¯s arrows, Leo¡¯s fire, and my own magic, I expect we can reduce the dungeon ruler¡¯s stamina by a quarter to one third in less than a minute.¡±

    ¡°We have three minutes at most,¡± Khelero said. ¡°I think we¡¯ll get one quarter stamina out of parties two and three combined.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking.¡±

    ¡°So, we¡¯re short.¡±

    ¡°Leo and I have a few tricks,¡± I said. ¡°But this fight will be down to you, as you said. The rest is up to the gods.¡±

    ¡°Gods,¡± Khelero scoffed. ¡°Gods have never helped us before.¡±

    That was true. He meant to say we weren¡¯t lucky.

    ¡°We¡¯re in this mess because of my big mouth,¡± Khelero said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what you¡¯re thinking? I know I¡¯m responsible, that¡¯s why I¡¯m not complaining. If I die, I die.¡±

    My throat felt dry hearing that.

    ¡°I¡¯m complaining,¡± I said.

    Khelero straightened out. He was a lean, but muscular man and just as tall as I. He cut an excellent figure and his short, slick-back hair made him look just as noble as his birthright. ¡°You have no right to,¡± he said.

    I frowned and said nothing.

    ¡°I might have started this,¡± Khelero said. ¡°But when I asked you to make a case for the raid, you ended up convincing everyone else as well.¡±

    ¡°I just presented the facts as they were,¡± I said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me now,¡± he said.

    What had I wanted? I think about that often, even now. About half the island had been evacuated at the time, because the guild had officially pulled support for stopping the dungeon break. That still left thousands of villagers that would be killed if the dungeon ruler escaped its lair. Khelero had the idea that we fight anyway, even if we didn¡¯t have strategic support or a full raid. When it came down to a vote, it was four against one.

    I wanted to leave. The facts, as I saw them, were that we would die and the islanders would be exterminated anyway. I thought our time would be better spent evacuating who we could and hopping on the last ferry off Adheim. Losses were inevitable in an adventurer¡¯s life, and the best of us knew when to cut and run. I wanted to run, obviously.

    Khelero wanted to save the island. Not because he wanted to be a hero, I think. It¡¯s strange, but I¡¯d known him for so long, and I am still not sure what his motivation was. He said it was the right thing to do, over and over. He was adamant, especially under the pavilion. The news he would die elicited no reaction, but a nod.

    ¡°You want to save them, don¡¯t you?¡± he asked with those steady eyes of his. ¡°So, don¡¯t lie now. If this is our last chance to be fair, let¡¯s say things as they are.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die,¡± I said.

    It was my conundrum, my puzzle cube. As the tactician, I was responsible for plotting the best course for success. If casualties were impossible to avoid, I had to find the solution with the fewest possible losses. And yet, even though this plan had been in my mind for a month, I had rejected it. I had searched for every alternative. I had denied what I knew was true.

    Looking back, maybe I denied it for the same reason my presentation was so convincing to the Silver and Bronze ranks. I put an optimistic spin on Khelero¡¯s ludicrous ambition, and it earned him the confidence of men and women I had taught¡ªtrained¡ªfrom their first days on Adheim. I knew I was condemning them to a pointless death in a terrible place, but I felt I should continue with the lie.

    What did I really believe? Did I want to protect the islanders on Adheim, like Khelero? Or was it the memory of my flight from the Khetarra that confused me?

    Khelero set his big hands on my shoulders. ¡°I know the kids joke about you,¡± he said. ¡°Mr. Never Smile. The Instructor that rides their ass over the smallest things. But I know you care about everybody. I know you want the best for the islanders and your family. Let me do my job. This is my responsibility.¡±

    I remember crying. We were adults, all of us. We were warriors, who had faced danger many times before. I thought I had hardened my heart the day I left the Echokhet. Khelero looked at me with a big smile and hugged me.

    ¡°I¡¯m proud to call you my brother, Madilhero,¡± he said to me. ¡°Tomorrow, I¡¯ll be your pawn. Put your faith in me and save everyone you can.

    ¡°Don¡¯t regret doing the right thing.¡±

 Chapter 39: Liars Smile: Part 2

    We gathered in the morning, just after first light, and waited before the iron face of the dungeon door. Khelero stood head-to-toe in his steel full-plate. His beak visor was locked upright, so I could see his face. He looked calm with his kite shield strapped firmly to his left arm. It was emblazoned with a Baru noble crest, a black gryphon, with claws splayed and eyes red with fire.

    Elizabeth and Leo stood together on the left side of the door. Liz wore her anointed raiment, a white robe that was traditional to followers of Namidae, a goddess of healing from the west continent. Her worship was rare outside of the priest class, and adventurers favored her for her powerful boons. Liz had her thick book secured in a leather sling that was strapped over her shoulder. That book, like a wizard¡¯s staff, and a warrior¡¯s sword, was her tool of choice.

    It had begun to snow, so Leo had pulled the brown hood of his layered robe over his head. His frameless, round glasses rested neatly on his nose, and his exotic mahogany-wood staff was leaned on his shoulder. Leo was a slacker, by my standards, and he seemed disinterested in the event. I would have rather he straightened his shoulders for the newbies and show them some pride, but I knew he would get fired up as soon as battle began. Pyromancers always did.

    Fiona stood beside me on the right side of the dungeon gate. Her armor was an appealing mix of chain-link steel and leather to keep her limber and mobile. When a nervous bronze fledgling looked her way, she flashed them a smile. Fiona was a stylish woman that appreciated flair. I knew she was nursing a hangover, but she didn¡¯t show it. She kept her back straight, eyes sharp, and her hands on her black-willow longbow. Meanwhile, I saw the quiver behind her hip was heavy with feathers striped red and green. Those were bodkin-type arrows.

    You might recognize the bodkin as a cheap alternative to proper broadhead arrows, but while traditional armies had long phased out their use, they found a niche in the adventurer¡¯s arsenal. Exchange their cheap iron tip for a dense tip of hardened steel, and the bodkins small cross section made it excellent for penetrating a monster¡¯s thick armor.

    Red meant bodkin, and green meant mithril. They were mithril-tip bodkins, as expensive as the gear of an entire bronze party, and far more valuable. I knew that meant Fiona was nervous too.

    As for myself, I looked much the same as I do these days. My hair was shorter, my coat had a few less holes, and there were fewer cuts in my pants, but my clothes were the same. I did have a staff back then, a long one like Leo¡¯s, made from smooth mahogany and capped at the end with a crystal of blue tourmaline.

    I looked toward the camp and saw the bronze and silver groups had assembled before us. They wore cheaper, iron armor or simple clothing under a steel breastplate or leather padding. The guild funded equipment for Gold Rank adventurers, but silver and bronze had to purchase their own gear. What they wore was often all they had.

    Khelero clapped his hands and got our attention.

    ¡°Welcome,¡± he said loud enough that everyone could hear. ¡°To the dungeon break. I understand for many of you this your first raid. Ordinarily you wouldn¡¯t see one before your fourth year, and only then if you made it to Silver Rank. But we don¡¯t live in ordinary times. I know some of you are from Bastilhas, which means you¡¯re aware of why we¡¯re here. Because of the Zenith War, Bastilhas has pulled funds from our little home, Adheim, and so the guild has withdrawn its support.

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve heard that story before. There are dungeons all around the world, but the farthest ones¡ªthe smallest ones¡ªevery bit as consequential as the Grand Dungeon of Atheria, are frequently abandoned. Sometimes the villages around those dungeons move on, or are evacuated, but that¡¯s not always the case. More often than not, the guild leaves people to die when it decides a dungeon is no longer worth harvesting.¡±

    Khelero sneered. I turned my eyes to the ground.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, harvesting. That¡¯s what you¡¯ve done for the past year¡ªand two, for some of you¡ªyou¡¯ve tilled the dungeon like a farmer¡¯s field. We harvest ingredients, components, and reagents for the guild and its patrons. Once, Bastilhas even mined mithril from this dungeon¡¯s walls, with our support of course. That is what we do as adventurers, we put down the dungeon breaks, so we can milk the ruler¡¯s lair for all its worth.

    ¡°But, that¡¯s not why you became adventurers. Why are you here? Some of you were on the run from the inquisition, and others¡ªI¡¯m sure¡ªjoined the guild after their ¡®families¡¯ threw them from their own homes. But still, some of you became adventurers because you were inspired. Was it Herakles that motivated you? The indomitable Hero, higher than even the vaunted Adamantine Rank, who can defeat a dungeon break with one hand! Was it because you saw those parades as a child? Where the mithril and adamantine are carried on floats in their grand armor, or because you were read stories of dungeons let loose on the land, and the noble souls that sacrificed to keep evil its self at bay!¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Khelero paced before the door. He was angry, but that was good. He had to stoke himself before the fight. Everyone needed that energy.

    ¡°That is what you are! That is why you were made different! The mana that flows in your veins¡ªseparates your world from the ordinary¡ªis the greatest treasure in Adohas. Without you, the land would have been turned black by the dungeons long ago. You hold it back! You stop the breaks!¡±

    The bronze and silver groups, so nervous before, cheered.

    ¡°For that reason, you were made!¡±

    They cheered again, louder.

    ¡°The guild treats us like obedient dogs that serve for the profit of its merchants and its own glory. They won¡¯t support us now, because they get nothing if they save lives for free. But you can bet after today, they¡¯ll write our story! We¡¯ll headline the next paper, and they¡¯ll sell it on the streets of Atheria. They¡¯ll put it in the hands of the citizens, in the hands of the children, and they¡¯ll say this¡ªthis is why adventurers are important!¡±

    Khelero cleared his throat.

    ¡°This raid won¡¯t be easy,¡± he said. ¡°But without us, those villagers in Adheim below will die. Each and every one of you is a hero in my eyes. To you all, who chose to join me this day, I say again, welcome home. This battlefield is yours. Here is where adventurers belong.¡±

    I hope I rendered that speech well for you, Zenos. It¡¯s hard to express just how compelling Khelero was to us. He could reach the heart and remind you of what your dreams, like they were possible. Everyone that came to our raid, I¡¯m certain, was an adventurer cut from the same cloth. They were idealistic, hopeful, and extremely brave. You could blame that on youth, perhaps, but Khelero had a way of making us all feel young.

    After his speech, he turned to the dungeon gate.

    ¡°Gate,¡± he said and raised his steel longsword. ¡°Open!¡±

    The adventurers cheered and the great doors of the mountain juddered. Dust and dirt fell down their seams, and pebbles scattered over the road. The doors creaked back, opened into the mouth of the dark cave. Khelero lowered his beak visor, like a thimble of holes, and stepped forward.

    We followed behind him. The silver group followed us, and the bronze group behind them. Khelero had done a lot of talk, but after the bluster, my work began. Zenos, you have never been inside the dungeon, but I¡¯ll illustrate the idea as best I can. Imagine a black, lightless hall; one will go for about a mile, and it will branch off every so often into adjoining corridors or rooms. That is called a floor, and every dungeon starts on Floor 1. The floors change on the eve of every dungeon break, but there are always the same number. They are filled with traps and monsters.

    With regard to Adderhorn Dungeon, there are five floors. Once the walls were lined with mithril, but no longer. The rooms, perhaps filled with opulent furniture in a distant age, had been picked clean. That¡¯s why the guild ¡®farmed¡¯ the floors. They sent adventurers to kill the monsters that appeared from the dark and pick from the corpses whatever valuables they had. Usually these were core gems, but sometimes there were other items of interest. Either way, whatever loot the adventurers found was turned over to the guild in exchange for their salary.

    Khelero had issue with that way of living. He thought exploiting dungeons made adventurer¡¯s careless, because the adventures from which we took our name weren¡¯t very dangerous. A dungeon break was a different beast altogether from our ordinary work. It was magnitudes more difficult and the consequences were lethal, for us and the land around us. It wasn¡¯t salary work.

    That day, the dungeon maze changed as expected. Floor 1 had changed from a long hall to a chain of many large rooms, but having fought in the past four dungeon breaks, I knew how to navigate a new floor. We made quick work of the lesser monsters that appeared and descended floor by floor, until we reached the 6<sup>th</sup> ¡®floor¡¯. The final floor, sometimes called the Boss Level, was the lair of the dungeon ruler. It only appeared during a dungeon break.

    We had arrived before the door to the ruler¡¯s chamber without injury. Spirits were high and the newbies thought we¡¯d make it through unscathed. I was more skeptical, and as time has proven, I was right to be concerned.

    Dungeon mutation, Zenos. Whatever evil fuels dungeons does not sit idle on its hands and let us come at it with all our skills and training. Every dungeon break is a little different than the last, more or less. Sometimes the mutation is benign, but other times it¡¯s exceedingly dangerous. In the worst cases, where the guild expects a difficult dungeon to mutate, a party of mithril or higher rank adventurers are prepared to relieve a raid. That is to say, a dungeon fit for Gold Rank adventurers may suddenly give Adamantine Ranks a challenge.

    We knew what dungeon ruler was behind that final gate, but how it had changed from our last encounter? Adventurers inevitably grew comfortable taking chances, even when the gamble meant life or death. I had gotten into the habit of clinging to one thing that gave me hope: Khelero¡¯s confident smile. If we were behind that man, I thought, we would make it through.

 Chapter 40: Liars Smile: Part 3

    So, the raid had reached the door to the lair of the dungeon ruler. It was a large portal of wrought iron, embellished with art of golems¡ªwhat you called the dwarfs¡ªon its face. Khelero turned to the raid that waited anxiously behind him.

    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± he said to us, ¡°activate your con-links.¡±

    The subconscious link. It¡¯s a small device of shaped wood with a crystalline bead in the center. You fit it around the earlobe, such that you have the bead stuck in your ear. On its own it does nothing, but after our raid members had set the con-links snugly on their ears, I tapped my staff to the floor.

    ¡°Spirit Link,¡± I said. ¡°Level 1.¡±

    It was at that moment our subconscious minds were soul bound, the beads of our con-links joined by my spell. High levels of the Spirit Link spell could share many things, such as feelings like pain, power in the form of mana, and life itself. At its lowest level, it turned a group of disparate adventurers, like wild animals, into a coordinated herd, or a deadly pack of hunters.

    What was it like, being attached to so many subconscious minds? It was something of a miasma. I could feel it as the one who watched from its center, like I stood in the eye of a storm. If a raid member felt something, I would be able to see it in my mind¡¯s eye; sense it, like a thought. If I issued an instruction, the raid members would hear it as their own inner voice directing them to battle. Through the con-link I had control of our battlefield.

    ¡°You¡¯ve all been through the training,¡± Khelero said. ¡°Those of you who haven¡¯t much experience, I know it will feel strange, but when that voice tells you to jump, you jump. That¡¯s the Instructor watching over you, don¡¯t doubt him.¡±

    Khelero nodded at Fiona. He took hold of a bar attached to one door and Fiona grabbed the other. They pushed and the door juddered. Dust fell and the doors gradually gave way, opened to the final chamber: The Lair. It was as large as I had remembered. An immense colonnade at least a hundred feet wide and several hundred feet long. The ceiling was so high as to be hidden in shadows cast by red-lit gold braziers that glowed beside each imperial column.

    The room was black, like obsidian, and its floor was laid in a dark marble that added a crisp tap to our heavy steps. At the end of the hall was the dungeon ruler. You might imagine it like a beast of many heads, snarled in chains. Some dungeon rulers were certainly ferocious like beasts, but they were always like men; two feet, two hands, and a pair of baleful eyes.

    The dungeon ruler of the Adderhorn Dungeon was a golem¡ªa giant dwarf¡ªtwenty-feet tall and broad with extraordinary muscles. It was made of stone, as all golems were, but instead of a breastplate, its bare chest was covered by the five thick braids of a beard that reached its knees. Its bright red eyes glowed at us from where it sat on its throne.

    Khelero advanced inside and we followed close behind him. I began coordinating our movements. Since the dungeon ruler was still resting on the throne, we would follow Plan A: We made broadhead formation, like the point of an arrow. Khelero and Cassius was in front. A healer stood behind each them, about ten feet away, and the DPS spread in two wings so as to not hit each other in a crossfire. I was in the center of the formation, toward the rear, where I was least likely to draw attention. Come the start of the fight, when aggro had been established, I would be able to join, but not before then; not before, because I couldn¡¯t risk the dungeon ruler ignoring our tanks and striking the DPS.

    I gave the instruction soundlessly to Khelero, after our positions had been taken. It was transmitted through the subconscious connection of the con-link.

    [Engage,] I said to his mind.

    Singular words were the easiest to communicate, with each additional word creating greater confusion. I could add two or three, but the reality was I couldn¡¯t communicate more than four words before the message became garbled.

    Khelero drew his longsword from the scabbard on his belt and pinned its blade against the marble floor. ¡°Knight¡¯s Challenge,¡± he said, ¡°Rank 5.¡±

    White light expanded in a ring from his feet. It flashed down the colonnade and crossed the dungeon ruler. It groaned like a man and dust fell in streams from the ceiling. I felt that noise was not made in pain or sadness, but that it was derisive, as if to insult us, or inspire fear. The dungeon ruler¡¯s eyes flared up in red flames and it stepped down from its throne. Its stone boots fell heavy on the floor.

    Elizabeth opened her book and read from the white light that illuminated its pages. ¡°And in the long night, as they crossed the sea, the storm that lashed their ship became a breeze, and the clouded sky opened to stars,¡± she said.

    Have you ever met a priest? While wizards may cast spells numbered in levels, and warriors may wield arts and skills numbered in ranks, priests are unique in the ritual words they command. Liz had a lovely voice, but she spoke rarely. Her voice was dedicated to the Saga of Namidae, and when recited faithfully, her mana manifested in the air.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The battering sound that hammered our ears was dampened. The ritual incantation of the Stormy Night protected our bodies from excessive force. It would not absorb a sword blow, like a shield would, but it reduced the energy of loud noises or powerful winds; that was what we needed just to stand before the immense weight of the dungeon ruler.

    Khelero and Cassius raised their shields. As the dungeon ruler approached, I spread our melee DPS, the zweihander squire and two rogues, so that they would be positioned at its sides.

    Adventurers measured a dungeon ruler¡¯s strength by its stamina and the time it took to render it immobile. You could not kill a dungeon ruler like you would a monster, or a man, you could only exhaust it, and¡ªwhen it fell on its knees¡ªdefeat it by shattering its core gem.

    If you considered a dungeon ruler¡¯s entire body to be a block of armor, then the core gem was its true flesh. Direct hits to that crystal would cause more exhaustion than a hit to its stone and, at the time, I believed it to be on the back of its neck. So, you see, the reason I repositioned our melee DPS was to strike at that point. It was a conventional tactic that should have worked.

    The dungeon ruler stopped ahead of Khelero. He was within reach of the large stone axes it held in each hand. The dungeon ruler swung and Khelero braced to take the first blow, but it turned its axe in the air and curved its swing. It slammed the zweihander-wielding squire in the chest.

    Damion, that was his name. He was a shy boy, just seventeen. He hadn¡¯t really proved himself as a tank, but I saw real promise in him. He could have been top-tier silver, or even gold if Khet willed it. Actually, he was from Atheria, the Atilonian capital, although he wasn¡¯t Atilonian. He spoke of his family just once, the Atilonians would call them immigrants from the north territory, but they were transients left homeless by war. The inquisition discovered Damion¡¯s mana while processing them, and so he was turned over to the guild.

    It¡¯s funny how I remember these things now.

    I knew he had been hit. There was a spark, like surprise, in the miasma of subconscious connections, and then silence. His presence had gone dark in the con-link. Khelero confirmed it with his eyes, and I knew by his feelings, that Damion was dead.

    Winters were comfortable in Atheria, you know? It was well south of the Chotokhetzam, the chasm that split the continent, and it was founded on tall cliffs by a warm-water sea. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild had its headquarters based there and it¡¯s where I was raised, with Khelero and the rest. I remember sitting dockside, beside the gulls on a winter afternoon. Enormous ships blew their horns as they came in to port and their steel-clad bays, I knew, were rich in treasures from around Adohas. People talked around me and passed me by, and I heard everything¡ªsaw everything¡ªwith my small eyes.

    Such life, such vibrancy, that was Atheria. It was the center of the world in many ways.

    I don¡¯t know what Damion thought of it. I don¡¯t know if he had spent much time there, before he was shipped off to Adheim. I don¡¯t know if he resented it, or if he hated the Atilonians, or the inquisition that separated him from his family. I remember wondering, how would I find them? How would I tell them what had happened? I wanted to say I was sorry. He should have had more time, to be young, to be in the sun.

    Damion died in a dark place, Zenos, against a wall etched in dwarf symbols, doubled in pain and blood. His armor had been crushed and the impact had severed his spine. It brought me no comfort that his death was instantaneous.

    I had no time to cry for his sake. No energy to spare, none at all. I had to suppress my own shock lest it spread to a raid already burdened by fear and confusion. I bottled all that felt in the seconds between Damion¡¯s death and the dungeon ruler¡¯s next attack. It wound back its arm and I spoke to the raid with the fierce clarity of adrenaline.

    [The dungeon ruler mutated,] I said in one burst.

    [Taunts have no effect.]

    The dungeon ruler brought down its axe and hewed the floor. The rogues were quick enough to roll aside. I considered retreating, but Khelero flipped his visor and flashed a smile. It was not a happy smile; it was a proud one. The fight was still on, I had to pick a new plan.

    Among dungeon mutations, taunt immunity was one of the worst. A taunt was any aggro generating skill, art, spell, or ability in an adventurer¡¯s arsenal. It was usually, but not exclusively, known to tanks; Knight¡¯s Challenge is one example. Without it a tank did not have enough damage to generate passive aggro and would be helpless to attract the dungeon ruler¡¯s ire.

    It was a bad situation and we¡¯d already lost one member, but I had created a plan for that circumstance. We fell back toward the door and assembled in a tight wing, almost a line, like the straight head of a bodkin arrow. The tanks were still in front, but Leo was far ahead of the group; he¡¯d left his robes by the door. He¡¯d need all his agility for Plan C: Kiting!

    A kite is a paper wing that you drag through the air behind you. It would catch the wind and soar high above, while you held it tethered to your hand by a string. In dungeon parlance, kiting worked similarly, except the dungeon ruler was the kite, and the kiter¡ªan adventurer with high aggro¡ªwas the one leading the string.

    Leo had positioned himself on the other side of the dungeon ruler, toward its own throne. While it lumbered our way, Leo prepared his spell. A brilliant red circle appeared ahead of his hand. ¡°Fireball!¡± he shouted. ¡°Level 5!¡±

    A plume of fire exploded from his palm. It struck the back of the dungeon ruler¡¯s neck with the force of a meteor, illuminated the room in its flash, and roared with noise enough to strain our Elizabeth¡¯s protection. Sure enough the dungeon ruler turned and ran after him.

    Leo was standing in his black pants and flamboyant red shirt. It was a gift from Liz, I think. He did like to stand out when the battle got started, he even left his staff behind. The stance he took was like a martial artist, ready to strike. He bounced a little on his feet, stared hard through the charging dungeon ruler. When it came close, he ran at it, clapped his hands together, and shouted.

    ¡°Blink, Level 3!¡±

    Leo disappeared from the dungeon ruler¡¯s sight and reappeared in a flash a hundred feet behind it.

    [Now!] I ordered the raid.

 Chapter 41: Liars Smile: Part 4

    Fiona drew back her bowstring, laced a mithril arrow between her fingers. The four remaining DPS in our group, two wizards and two rangers, joined the attack. Spells and arrows were flung at once.

    ¡°Fireball!¡± Leo shouted again. ¡°Level 5!¡±

    The barrage hammered the dungeon ruler¡¯s back and broke its stone skin. Shards of rock hurtled to the floor. It turned to us; eyes brighter than before. Leo was prepared to teleport with another blink, but it approached slowly, with an axe twirling in its hand. Before the dungeon ruler was near enough for Leo¡¯s blink, the axe was hurled.

    [Intercept! Shield!] I instructed.

    Leo¡¯s hand lit up and a fireball was launched.

    Khelero stamped his sword to the ground. ¡°Bulwark, Rank 6!¡±

    A giant, phantom kite shield appeared between the raid and the spinning axe. The fireball struck the axe blade, shattered the stone, but only dented its speed. The dungeon ruler charged, the axe fell against the shield, and Leo blinked. The stone, heated by the fireball, exploded on the shield and a cloud of dust obscured our view.

    The dungeon ruler cut through it, hewed so hard that its axe swept the dust away. It was in the air, soaring like a stone hurled by a trebuchet. It hit Khelero¡¯s phantom shield and I felt the feedback immediately. To negate that strike and maintain the barrier that shielded us, Khelero had to use more mana than he had. By our connection I knew he was in pain.

    The dungeon ruler dropped to the floor and I noticed Leo. He was injured, his shoulder drenched in blood. Although he had blinked in time to avoid the dungeon ruler, he had been hit by shrapnel. Leo needed healing.

    [Liz, go,] I commanded. She knew what to do. [Cassius, support.]

    He nodded and followed her around the side of the room. Leo was far out of Elizabeth¡¯s reach, the had to cross most of the floor to reach him. Cassius was there in case the dungeon ruler turned on them, but I had hoped that I could generate enough aggro to keep it where it was.

    ¡°Spirit Barrage,¡± I said and raised my hand. White circles of light over me. ¡°Level 6!¡±

    Small orbs, like heat-less fireballs, launched from my mana circles. They battered the dungeon ruler¡¯s face and broke chunks off its beard. The dungeon ruler looked at me with enmity in its eyes, but something happened: It turned its head and looked at Liz.

    I had not realized it until then. The dungeon mutation we faced was more severe than taunt immunity. It was by far the worst possible mutation: Aggro immunity.

    The dungeon ruler had been picking its own targets.

    [Liz!] I uttered in the black of my mind, tried to communicate my surprise. I tried to instruct her, but words failed me.

    I hoped Cassius would be enough.

    The dungeon ruler charged the pair of them, collided with the colonnade. Columns tumbled to the ground. Khelero dropped his bulwark skill and ran, sword out swung.

    [Attack!] I ordered the raid.

    Liz screamed, Cassius raised his shield, and the axe fell in a rage. The light of our bombardment flashed in the dark and smoke clouded my sight, but I could feel Elizabeth through the gloom. She was shocked. As we struck the dungeon ruler, Cassius had held back its axe. He had fallen on his knee, his shield crushed into his shoulder and near broken through. Blood poured on the floor, but he held himself up, back straight against the blow. Elizabeth could have healed him, but she was stunned silent. Her eyes were fixed on the dungeon ruler¡¯s baleful orbs. The enmity that had flashed at me, I felt from her perspective.

    Hatred, for us.

    What appeared from the shadows in a dungeon, such things we call monsters, are not something we consider to ¡®feel.¡¯ They are like dreams in a sense, a nightmare that acts as an animal against the dreamer. When they are destroyed, their bodies disintegrate into dust and disappear. What is left behind are our rewards, their gems and treasures. The guild considers dungeons a challenge from the gods, to determine the worthiness of mortals. For what end, the guild does not speculate.Stolen novel; please report.

    I believe dungeons are an evil. I know they¡¯re evil, because of what I¡¯ve seen. Dungeon rulers were meant to have a pattern. They were meant to be predictable, within a certain degree. The mutations were challenges, and because of mutations I can understand how the guild became confused.

    However, did they really not know? Thousands of years tending to dungeons, thousands upon thousands of dungeon breaks defeated, and never once had they witnessed eyes as spiteful the ones that burned for us?

    That dungeon ruler had no pattern. Aggro, taunting, kiting, none of it mattered. There could be no order to that battle, only chaos. It hated us, Zenos. It hated adventurers; do you know what that means? It could recognize us for what we were. It had a theory of mind, or so it goes. It was no animal, but sapient.

    Liz couldn¡¯t move. The dungeon ruler lifted Cassius by its axe and flung him aside. He died on impact. Elizabeth was certainly the next target, but before the next swing landed, Leo blinked in, grabbed her, and blinked away. They rolled together on the floor beside the raid.

    ¡°Liz!¡± Fiona shouted and ran to them.

    ¡°Leo,¡± Elizabeth whimpered as she crawled to him.

    I knew he was dead. The axe had grazed his back, but that was enough. My friend of two decades, my brother, was dead. I couldn¡¯t maintain my focus. The dungeon ruler turned and assaulted the party. We did the best we could, but having felt its hatred, I knew that no strategy could succeed.

    Escape! That was my thought. We had to save what we could. The door was still open, we could have left the room at any time. Yet, Leo would still be dead. Cassius and Damion would have been left to rot, unburied. And, of course, if I abandoned that fight, I would have condemned the island to destruction.

    In the end, I held my ground, but I didn¡¯t know why. I searched for an answer in my memories, looked for anything that could salvage that battle. Bronze group was destroyed. Silver group followed shortly after. Khelero had them buy time. He was confident I would think of a way, like I always had.

    Liz was killed by an axe blow and Fiona was killed on impact when she was thrown into the wall. It was down the Khelero and I, and the dungeon ruler looked damaged, but not exhausted. Red fire licked through the cracks in shattered skin and its eyes glowed in an unwavering glare.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take it on,¡± Khelero said beside me. He had lost his helm in the fighting and taken a blow to the chest. His armor was split and he was bleeding, badly. I couldn¡¯t staunch the wound.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.

    We were going to die anyway, after all.

    ¡°I smile for everyone¡­¡± he said, panting. ¡°But it¡¯s not because I¡¯m confident¡­ I just need them to believe the lie: That I know what I¡¯m doing, that I have it under control. That smile is the same, for everyone, but you.¡±

    Khelero made a step forward. He was trembling on his right leg, but he was still upright. It took all his effort to move.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one¡­ that makes my fantasies possible,¡± he said. ¡°So, I have one wish, Mad¡­. If you have to run, then run. If you can win, then win. But live on, Mad. Don¡¯t die today.¡±

    He walked ahead of me. The dungeon ruler made its approach, axe low against the floor. ¡°Did that sound cool?¡± Khelero asked. He flashed a smile and ran with all the power he had. He charged the dungeon ruler.

    As I looked on, I understood what Fiona had done. The night before, she had left her mug on the roof top beside me. The words she had said then, what she could not express, was an understanding our party had. They thought that, if the worst were to happen, that I was the one who would survive; that I deserved to survive.

    The mug was for later. When I emerged from that place, in victory or defeat. It was for me to remember, so I¡¯d pour out their drinks for the last time; the adventurer¡¯s farewell.

    I closed my eyes and saw darkness. It was a darkness that was blacker than black, separate from the dark behind the eyes. That was my first experience with the black ocean. A pair of orbs, pale and white as the moon appeared ahead of me. I felt a hand reach for me and words fill my mind.

    I do not remember what was said, but I remember opening tear-filled eyes and seeing Khelero on the floor. He was crushed. The fate of that battle had fallen on my shoulders. Whether my family and friends lived for something, or died for nothing, depended on the drop of black water I cradled in my palm.

    I had a speck of fathomless power and with it, the words to a spell. It was unlike anything I had heard before, but it felt correct. I knew I could have whatever I desired, once. The dungeon ruler rushed toward me and I spoke the phrase. It went like this:

    ¡°Administrator Command: Kill Target.¡±

    The dungeon ruler¡¯s red eyes were snuffed out and its body crumbled. It disappeared in a gale of black dust.

    That victory felt hollow without the weary cheer of my raid; without Khelero slapping me on the back, and the congratulations we shared together. I left my staff on the floor and went to their side.

    I buried them on this mountain. Left mugs of ale on their graves and left the Adderhorn. I had saved Adheim, but come next dungeon break, it would return. That dungeon ruler, I felt, would be back.

    Its hatred hadn¡¯t been answered.

 Chapter 42: Cradle of the Soul

    Administrator Command, Zenos repeated in his thoughts. How did an NPC wield the power of the arkitects?

    It was the following day and he sat alone on a hill overlooking the birch-wood valley. Barren trees towered like bone-white skeletons over a pale-yellow quilt of leaves. What automatons Zenos had left remained idle and there were no leaf piles to mark the remains from his last massacre. Those pieces that laid among the birch roots gleamed bronze whenever the cold sun shined.

    Zenos wore his gray coat. His arms were folded over his knees as he watched branches rustle in a breeze. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll get a satisfying answer by thinking about it, he concluded. But, Mad¡¯s description of two lights in the black ocean¡­ reminds me of that thing.

    He remembered the creature in the cavern: The Black Forest. He thought of its glowing eyes and crooked posture, its resemblance to Mad, and how it stunned him. Something else happened in that cave, but the memory escaped him. It stayed on the tip of his tongue, like it was hidden in the shadow of a flag.

    Zenos ran his hands over his head. ¡°Ah, forget it,¡± he said exasperated as he ruffled his hair. ¡°I¡¯ll stay focused on what¡¯s in front of me.¡±

    He stood and reached through the holographic screen of his inventory. ¡°I don¡¯t have enough power now,¡± he said. ¡°Mad¡¯s entire raid failed, and without an arkitect¡¯s power, he would have died too. The dungeon ruler¡­. If one strike instantly killed a bronze adventurer and another fatally wounded a silver one, then that means I need to be stronger; much, much stronger.

    ¡°If I had the full extent of my magic, one Obliteration Beam would be enough. If I had magic at all, it would easily tip the scale¡­. Well, I already have a big advantage.¡±

    Zenos drew his sword.

    ¡°The remaining automatons should still give experience.¡± He stepped down the hill, held the sword close to his side. ¡°I¡¯ll take as much as I can get.¡±

    Light shined in his eyes.

    [At-Will Ability: True Eyes of the Emperor Activated.]

    ¡°Attack me,¡± he ordered.

    [Compulsion failed x9.]

    Zenos was currently level 25. He was confident enough in his [Longsword of the Novice] that he didn¡¯t remove his coat. The nine automatons that turned toward him¡ªall that remained of the group that once wandered there¡ªwould be eliminated without a single injury. He wouldn¡¯t break a sweat.

    The first automaton swung for his face. Zenos ducked beneath its arm and struck its gimble with a decisive slash. [You have dealt 1,000 critical lethal damage to the waist,] the system reported.

    The automaton crumbled to the forest floor, defeated by a single strike.

    [One level up is waiting for you.]

    I can handle this, he thought and imagined the twenty-foot tall dungeon ruler towering among the aggravated automatons. I can handle the dungeon break too. I have to.

    He clutched his sword and charged into the valley.

    An hour later and the last of the automatons collapsed against a birch trunk. A mortal injury had been hewed in its chest, but it wasn¡¯t dead. The neck shuddered and it appeared to reach for the hem of Zenos¡¯ coat. Then its HP reached zero and its hand dropped against the leaves. Its neck sagged; its head hung lifeless against its breast.

    ¡°And that¡¯s the last one,¡± Zenos said, stowed his sword in his inventory.

    He knelt down, pried away the automaton¡¯s broken chest armor, and tore the amethyst gem from its mithril housing. [Core Gem] the system indicated after he¡¯d taken in his hand.

    ¡°Core gem?¡± he muttered.

    Mad mentioned something about that yesterday.

    ¡°Zenos!¡±

    A chill electrified his spine and he turned his head. Mad was about ten feet behind him, his walking stick slung over his shoulder.

    ¡°Must you always sneak up on me?¡± Zenos asked. He stood with the gem fresh between his fingers.

    Mad chuckled. He had an infectious smile that made the day before seem like a dream. The story that he told about his party¡ªhis family¡ªand his friends, the adventurer¡¯s of Adheim Island, felt so far away. It may have been a year ago, Zenos thought as Mad approached, but he thinks about that raid every day. To be able to smile after that¡­ just what kind of man is he?Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to surprise you,¡± Mad said. ¡°I can¡¯t help that I walk softly.¡±

    Forget walking softly! Zenos frowned. There are leaves everywhere and I didn¡¯t hear you crinkle one!

    ¡°Is that your last gem?¡± Mad asked, pointed at Zenos¡¯ hand.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Zenos said and raised the gem. It sparkled in the light. ¡°It must be.¡±

    Mad plucked it from his fingers. ¡°Then that¡¯s twenty,¡± he said.

    ¡°I might have some more.¡± Zenos gestured to the broken automatons.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Mad said. ¡°I should have cleaned out this valley a long time ago.¡±

    Zenos walked toward the husk of another automaton. ¡°These are core gems, aren¡¯t they?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mad said. His smile faltered and there was a distant look in his eyes. Zenos caught it when he glanced over his shoulder.

    ¡°The core gem that powers the dungeon ruler,¡± he continued. ¡°The dungeon¡¯s various monsters, and these machines bear slight differences, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°But they¡¯re the same,¡± Zenos said, pried off a chest panel and revealed the gem inside.

    ¡°Sort of,¡± he said.

    ¡°Well, are they or not?¡± Zenos tugged the gem and ripped it from its tangle of delicate mithril wires.

    ¡°Do you mind taking a walk with me?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos stood, tossed the gem in the palm of his hand. ¡°Is this your way of saying you¡¯ll explain when we¡¯re there?¡±

    Mad smiled.

    He helped Zenos retrieve the remaining core gems and they left together, up the trail that led from the valley and into the hills. They went to the hot springs, but they didn¡¯t stop there. They crossed the warm-water creek and walked on a path crowded by bushes and ferns.

    Zenos could tell no one had walked there in some time. Wherever Mad led him, it took them beyond the local hills and around the mountain, to its western face. Before a tall cliff, colored brown and yellow with moss dried by the winter sun, was a clearing among the trees. Small collections of stones were piled there, separate but disorganized. Zenos immediately thought of the leaves the automatons gathered.

    ¡°When I couldn¡¯t find families to receive the bodies, well¡­¡± Mad¡¯s voice waned.

    ¡°You buried them here?¡±

    ¡°I buried many of them here,¡± he said. ¡°As it happens, those that accept suicide missions are usually the sort that don¡¯t have families in the first place.¡±

    It was late in the day; the sun was setting. The sky was painted in its fanciful colors and the evening light fell bright on the stone-pile graves. Green grass thrived in their long shadows.

    ¡°Why did you move them so far from the dungeon?¡± Zenos asked as he stepped carefully through the graveyard.

    ¡°The sun sets in the west,¡± Mad said.

    Zenos peered at a stone pile beneath him. Dense moss one the east face of the rocks, where it was shielded from the wind and sun. ¡°So, why did you bring me here?¡± he asked, looked up from the stone marker.

    Mad removed a gem from his coat pocket and sunlight was caught in its prism. A bright purple glare shined over the graves. ¡°These core gems are extremely valuable,¡± Mad said. ¡°They have many uses, such as for spells, or in the forging of weapons. You could consider recovering them an adventurer¡¯s primary job.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you wanted them?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad smiled and clutched the gem in his hand. ¡°What¡¯s inside would be useful for fighting the dungeon ruler,¡± he said and placed one foot forward. ¡°But that¡¯s not why I wanted the gems.¡± He wound up his arm and chucked the crystal at the cliff wall. It shattered in brilliant purple shards.

    Zenos folded his arms, watched as the purple liquid dripped down the cliff face. It evaporated in moments, but the dead moss it touched, that which turned brown in the sun, became green again. Tiny purple flowered bloomed among their clumps.

    ¡°The gems we find from monsters are different from the core gem that powers a dungeon ruler,¡± made said. ¡°And the ones that power the automatons are different from them all. When these ones break, there¡¯s a spark I can feel with the Sight.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad threw the next gem and it shattered on the wall. ¡°Real core gems don¡¯t break easily. These are cut from glass.¡±

    ¡°Imitations?¡±

    Mad nodded. ¡°A necromancer bound spirits to these false gems.¡±

    Zenos frowned.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think about it until I moved Khelero to this clearing,¡± he continued. ¡°The way the automatons piled leaves around the each other was¡­ very familiar to me.¡±

    ¡°Is that sort of thing allowed?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°A slave binding can get a necromancer sent to the inquisition,¡± Mad said. ¡°But these automatons are older than them. They¡¯re from a time before Atilonia, and maybe even the guild. I don¡¯t know why these spirits were trapped, but I felt pity for them.

    ¡°It must be like a nightmare, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Zenos approached Mad, stopped before him with his hand on his side. ¡°If the automatons had spirits in them, you should have told me,¡± he said.

    ¡°You needed practical training,¡± Mad said. ¡°I can¡¯t always protect you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk.¡±

    ¡°You might have hesitated.¡±

    ¡°But you hesitated,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad said nothing and deflected his eyes. He held his arms tight to his sides.

    ¡°You did,¡± Zenos continued. ¡°The reason you gave me that quest was because you couldn¡¯t bear to kill them yourself.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯re right,¡± Mad said. ¡°They were abominations. I should have freed them immediately.¡±

    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Again, Mad said nothing. He glanced at Zenos and smiled faintly. It was a look of embarrassment.

    Zenos understood. ¡°Hand me a gem,¡± he said.

    Mad relaxed and placed a gem in his hand.

    Zenos wound back his arm and threw it into the cliff.

    ¡°I once met my most loyal comrade on the battlefield,¡± he said. ¡°He tried to kill me.¡±

    ¡°Your comrade?¡± Mad asked.

    Zenos nodded. ¡°That was before we understood each other,¡± he said. ¡°But there came a moment of clarity, when he saw himself in me, and from that moment he set down his weapon. He could no longer fight.¡±

    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s empathy?¡± Mad asked.

    ¡°Or sympathy,¡± Zenos said. ¡°It¡¯s hard to eat something that has a face; it¡¯s hard to kill something that you understand.¡±

    ¡°Even so,¡± Mad said and threw a gem at the wall. ¡°I should have done it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not wrong to feel lonely,¡± Zenos replied.

    There was a gem wound in Mad¡¯s hand, but he stopped mid throw. His arm trembled and the gem fell to the grass.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said quietly.

    Their conversation fell away and they threw the rest of their gems in silence. When stars appeared in the sky, Mad lit an anima thread and they headed to the trail. They left the graves and a cliff of purple flowers behind.

 Chapter 43: Feast Between Friends

    It was the afternoon, one day before the dungeon break was set to begin. Zenos stood alone in the birch-wood valley. There was an automaton at his feet, laid out with its arms and legs parallel to its dented torso. One of its legs had been cut from the hip, and both its arms had been severed. Zenos had picked through a pile to find its missing limbs. It was like finishing a jigsaw puzzle.

    This looks right, he thought. Probably.

    After the body was assembled, he worked his hands under a wet mulch of birch leaves and covered the bronze corpse. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and panted quietly. That was his twenty-fifth burial.

    Zenos took a sip from his water canteen.

    A few more to go.

    The automatons were heavy. He dragged them however he could, by the lip of their chest cavity or their limbs if they had any. They were moved to the foot of a birch tree where Zenos had prepared shallow depressions for their final rest. His hands were cold and black with mud, but if he kept a good pace, he could finish before sunset.

    Another set of limbs gathered, set, and covered. Zenos sipped from his water canteen and dropped against a birch trunk. He sat exhausted among the leaves. His head knocked back against the wood as he stared up through its branches. The sky was gray.

    Almost done, he thought.

    The automatons weren¡¯t humans, they were machines, so the effort to bury them would have looked strange to an outsider. Even if their core gems contained spirits of the dead, those gems had already been removed. What remained were just parts, valuable only for their mithril.

    But it¡¯s because they¡¯re machines. Zenos took a deep draft from his canteen. That¡¯s why I have to do this.

    He stood, latched the canteen to his belt, and returned to work.

    Living a non-life, where your actions are predetermined, and your freedom is limited by your creator, he thought. That¡¯s precisely what an NPC is. Even after they escaped the dungeon, they were shackled by the instructions of their master; stay, wait, harvest, deposit. If they were attacked, they must defend themselves. Clearly, they could not commit suicide. Their instructions must have prevented them from fully realizing themselves, but they had some insight, didn¡¯t they? They must have known something.

    I was the same.

    After he buried the last automaton, Zenos moved to the hillside and surveyed the valley. All throughout were shallow mounds of leaves and dirt, packed carefully and placed in such a way that the wind would not easily disturb their rest.

    Zenos clapped his hands and closed his eyes. He offered his condolences in the Demon way; it was analogous to a prayer in a world with gods.

    ¡°You served your masters, your family, and your friends honorably,¡± he said quietly. ¡°You did all anyone could have asked and more. You satisfied your purpose. Now rest.¡±

    Zenos clapped again. He made a long look across the valley.

    I was the same, he thought and turned toward the trail. But I have changed.

    Haven¡¯t I?

    The sun kissed the horizon, the sky turned colors, and Zenos finally returned to the campsite. There was a lovely smell in the air, of spices and caramelized onions. Mad tossed vegetables on his spatula and stirred the pan that sat on the grill.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°What¡¯s for supper?¡± Zenos asked.

    Mad smiled. ¡°A vegetable medley,¡± he answered. ¡°We¡¯re out of meat, so I¡¯m doing the best I can with what we have.¡±

    Zenos sat on a tree stump by the firepit. The pan was colored in red and orange peppers, brown onions and mushrooms from the forest, and a green sauce. It smelled spicy.

    ¡°I finished burying the automatons,¡± he said and unbuttoned his coat. He felt hot, and even worse beside the fire.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that,¡± Mad said.

    ¡°But you¡¯re glad I did,¡± Zenos added.

    Mad smiled again and nodded.

    ¡°Tomorrow is the dungeon break, isn¡¯t it?¡± Zenos asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he said and left his steel spatula in the pan. He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. ¡°It¡¯ll be a long day, that¡¯s for certain.¡±

    ¡°No celebration this time, I see.¡±

    Mad chuckled. ¡°I would hope not. The islanders better have left this time.¡±

    ¡°Lowether didn¡¯t,¡± Zenos said. ¡°There were probably others that stayed, too.¡±

    Mad rubbed his palm into his head. ¡°I told him to leave so many times,¡± he said. ¡°He just wouldn¡¯t budge.¡±

    ¡°But this island is his home, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°You can make a home anywhere, but you only get one life,¡± he said and picked up his spatula. He set about stirring again. ¡°I¡¯m proof of that.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes you get two,¡± Zenos said.

    ¡°But you still lose something,¡± Mad said, looked him in the eye. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    Zenos frowned, but nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Mad said. ¡°Everyone loses something when they die. Usually that¡¯s just your life, but even if you were to get that back, by the blessing of the gods or otherwise, you¡¯ll still be missing things you can¡¯t replace; family, friends, or good company. But a home? You can get that anywhere.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I urged him to leave.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to win, aren¡¯t we?¡± Zenos asked.

    They shared a look between them, and though they sat close together, they seemed far apart.

    ¡°You still think so?¡±

    Zenos nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Without the black ocean, I¡¯m not so confident,¡± he said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll give up. Let¡¯s just¡­ keep our expectations low.¡±

    ¡°The other day you said my quest reward would take a little longer than you thought,¡± Zenos said. ¡°So, if it¡¯s not ready now, then that means you lied to me, or you¡¯re going to finish it after the raid.¡±

    Mad blinked at him.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to win, Mad,¡± Zenos said.

    Mad breathed hard through his nose. A slight smile appeared on his face. ¡°When you put it like that, I don¡¯t want to be a liar.¡±

    The food was finished and Zenos took his dish of pan-fried vegetables. Mad opened his backpack and pull from a pocket one bottle of whisky. Tins were poured, cups were clinked, and they feasted¡ªin their own way¡ªbeneath the stars.

    Late at night, after the firepit was cold, they sat atop a roof in the ruins around their camp. They looked out into the black, their eyes well-adjusted, such that they saw the moonlight glisten on the sea.

    ¡°It¡¯s your birthday, isn¡¯t it?¡± Zenos asked, a little tipsy.

    ¡°A few days ago,¡± Mad said, tin cup rested in his lap. ¡°I think so, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Happy birthday,¡± Zenos said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t get you anything.¡±

    Mad laughed. ¡°When you make it to the mainland and become a big shot adamantine adventurer, you can treat me to something in Atheria,¡± he said.

    ¡°Is it expensive there?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the worst,¡± Mad said and finished his tin in one draft. ¡°The street vendors are pretty cheap, but that¡¯s working-class food. When you get to adamantine, restaurateurs will be lining up to get you to eat in the ritzy up-town. At that point you¡¯re like a celebrity.¡±

    ¡°You really think I could do that?¡± Zenos asked. ¡°Be adamantine?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± he said. ¡°I mean, you have some gifts even the adamantine don¡¯t have. If you trained, you might even surpass Herakles.¡±

    Zenos leaned back, turned his head up to look at the stars that shined bright above. There was a cosmos overhead; the streak of purple, red, and gold, like a wound in space, was the glow of a distant universe.

    If this weren¡¯t a game, I wonder¡­ where I could go.

    Mad tipped toward the edge of the roof, but he regained his balance. ¡°Whoops,¡± he uttered. ¡°I¡¯m getting a little lightheaded.¡±

    ¡°Is it time for bed?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be an early morning tomorrow,¡± Mad said. ¡°Don¡¯t sleep in.¡±

    Zenos nodded and the pair descended from the roof. They made for their tents and Zenos waved his goodbye. He climbed into his bedroll and turned snug beneath the cover.

    The player system activated in a blue light before his eyes. He checked his character screen.

    Four spare levels, one weapon, my eyes, and this system. That¡¯s all I have, but it¡¯ll be enough. I¡¯m not trapped in my forest; I¡¯m not chained anymore. I have the power to change everything. This fate that Mad is expecting, the day he thinks will be his end¡ª

    I¡¯ll break it!

 Chapter 44: Where Goes the Son, so Goes the Father

    We waited a week in the ruined valley, while the demon emperor¡¯s forces were replenished. When the mountain pass was truly closed, the demon emperor continued north to the Daz Baradash, the citadel heart of the dwarf kingdom. I instructed him on which roads to travel, what valleys to cross, and on where he¡¯d find the tunnels to our deep road, the subterranean highway that connected the Golud Baradash.

    An¡¯ so, I was left with a detachment of my own: One-hundred human riders, two-hundred human knights with zweihanders and bows, and three companies of dwarf turncoats that swore oaths of loyalty in my name. My forces totaled roughly seven hundred, all told. My orders were to severe the head of the dwarf kingdom by killing king Dazka. Without a king, and with their citadel under siege, the dwarfs would isolate themselves in their disparate mountain holds. The demon emperor could then pick them off one by one.

    We packed our supplies on the backs of hardy donkeys and traveled to Shuk-ilkron. It was the deepest mine in the kingdom, from which the majority of dwarf mithril was sourced. I had told my father to await me there, but as Shuk-ilkron was isolated from the deep roads, our journey was long and we were beleaguered by snow storms.

    Many horses starved and were left behind, and knights were lost to ice trolls in early-morning raids. We were diminished by half, but we pressed ever onward, toward the highest peak in the land. It was so tall that in the day it blocked the setting sun, and at night the turning cosmos appeared to pour around it in phantasmal colors of red and blue.

    After a month of travel, we arrived after nightfall. Shuk-ilkron was well guarded, defended on all sides by indomitable walls and square towers hewed from solid rock. The finest doom in all Baradash was maintained there, and they patrolled the woods regularly, in both times of peace and war. Their equipment of mithril and adamantine was renowned, for the finest smiths worked the great forges of Shuk-ilkron, and used the fruit of dwarf labor to create masterpieces of craftdwarfship.

    As we approached, the snow was up to my chest. The humans trudged behind me, where it was packed up to their waist. We left the donkeys behind and the men wrapped themselves in warm ice troll pelts. They snuffed their torches and took position around the wood. I ordered them to adjust their eyes as best they could and warm their hearts with the last of our dwarfen ale. They would need every advantage, for when I lit my flare, they would begin their attack.

    My loyal dwarfs followed me toward the fortress gate and I hailed him in the manner of our kin. The gate opened to celebration. They had received news of the demon emperor¡¯s victory and his advance on the kingdom. They had thought me dead. When word reached my father¡¯s ear, he declared a night of feasting, but did not emerge from the underhalls.

    Large cedar tables were pulled out from storage, the barracks, and mess hall. The snow was cleared from the fortress courtyard and old braziers were lit with bright cinderfire. It was a night of drinking, chanting, and singing. We regaled each other with stories of our journeys, our hardships, and those of our ancestors, of which we were extremely proud.

    Meanwhile, loyal dwarfs slipped from the feasting tables and took the walls. They took unsuspecting dwarfs by surprise, be it by their smile or their handshake. The tower guards were eliminated and my lieutenant, a dwarf with an immense brown beard wrapped in a single braid, worked his way through the revelers to my seat at the feast.

    ¡°The accommodations are ready, your highness.¡±

    I nodded to him and handed him the silverine tube from my side satchel.

    ¡°Deliver this message,¡± I said. ¡°And give our host our thanks.¡±

    My lieutenant made a grim expression. He nodded and took the tube in hand. Minutes after he disappeared into the crowd, and I was hoisted by cheering dwarfs, the flare was lit in a high tower. Those revelers, who were the majority of the dwarfs stationed in that fortress, were disarmed and unarmored. They were fiercely loyal to my father, to the crown, and to Golud Baradash. There would be no negotiations with fine kin like they.

    The humans scaled the smooth walls with grappling hooks. From the parapets, they drew their short bows and loosed arrows across the crowd. My loyal comrades took up their axes and cut down their fellows. It was not a quiet battle, it was not without its tears, but it was swift. Decorated in dwarf blood, I walked through the underhalls. Distant screams of betrayal rung clear as a bell in the vaunted ceiling.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    I gave the royal guard no time to secure the inner doors. They were outfitted in fine adamantine, but they fell against my all the same axe. The confusion told in their eyes, their apprehension and sorrow, was no match for my fury. I was a nightmare made real.

    I found my father on the sixth floor. The last of his guards lay dead in heaps at the door. He was alone at the end of a great colonnade hall, his back turned to me as he faced an enormous portal gate. Through its iron bars was an elevator that descended to the very deepest level of the mine. I understood that there were secrets in that place of which even I was unaware. My father was keen to protect them.

    ¡°So,¡± he said. ¡°You have returned.¡±

    His voice echoed up the hall as I approached, axes low in my hands. The braids of my beard were splashed with blood, and my eyes shined in luminescent red.

    ¡°I ¡®ave returned,¡± I said. ¡°I kept my word.¡±

    My father was dressed in a colorful robe of blues, grays, and gold lining. It was decorated in stone ornaments and its cloth was inscribed with the rune words of our kin. He appeared to stroke the many braids of his white beard, clasped tightly in golden bands.

    ¡°What news do you bring?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The war is over, father,¡± I said. ¡°We failed to defeat the demon emperor. He has crossed the mountains and valleys and laid siege to the Daz Baradash. Before long, the whole of the kingdom will fall before him.¡±

    ¡°Then this hall must be sealed,¡± he said. ¡°It must be closed, so that what lay beneath never see the light of day.¡±

    ¡°I cannot do that,¡± I answered.

    He turned slowly; his hand nestled in the braids of his beard. His sharp eyes checked me with no reaction, rather I felt illuminated by them, stunned with their comprehension.

    ¡°You knew?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I feared,¡± he said. ¡°I cannot know how, or why, you have chosen this path, but the fact remains.

    ¡°This is what you have decided.¡±

    I stopped, perhaps ten feet apart from him. I held my axes firmly and tightened my jaw. ¡°What are you doing, father?¡± I asked.

    ¡°This is what I¡¯ve decided,¡± he said.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked again. ¡°I¡¯m here to kill you!¡±

    ¡°You were my responsibility, Balagrim, until the day you took the throne,¡± he said. ¡°Your life, your education, your accomplishments, and mistakes. Whatever you have done, I believe, it¡¯s because of what I taught you. This outcome reflects on me as a king and as your father.¡±

    My axes trembled. My arms shuddered with despair. My father did not meet my challenge in the dwarfen way, by duel. He did not cower, or hide. Whether he had been warned beforehand, or realized it through his own insight, he had prepared himself as I saw him. There he stood crownless before a door many times his size, under a hall carved by a thousand hands, in soft robes that befit a proud dwarf on the precipice of death.

    His eyes were steady. I saw blame in them, but it was not for me. He blamed himself and all dwarf kind.

    ¡°Whatever conclusion you have reached,¡± my father said. ¡°You could only have made by drawing on your own conscience. You, who was so true to our ways, and so filial a son, were the one entrusted with our future. If you have discarded the crown, then so too will I toss my own.

    ¡°I will not fight you. If the dwarfs are to die, then we go to the black by our hand. Your hand.¡±

    My father sat on his knees and folded his hands over his beard. My red eyes glistened and I took one step forward.

    ¡°I ask again,¡± he said. ¡°Do not let the demon emperor have what is in the deep.¡±

    ¡°I cannot do that,¡± I repeated.

    ¡°Despite your actions, I know you do not serve the demon emperor for the sake of power,¡± he said. ¡°Whatever your reason, it must be for the good of dwarf kind.¡±

    Tears dampened my face.

    ¡°It must be so,¡± my father said. ¡°What lay below¡­ is therefore something that was meant for you, but it is not something you deserve.

    ¡°And that fault is our own.¡±

    He lowered his head and I loomed over him, my axe wound to strike.

    ¡°I kneel before you,¡± he said. ¡°But you must hold your head high. So long as you stay true and loyal to the dwarfen ways, then come the day of our next meeting, you may decide again whether you are worthy.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± I said quietly. ¡°I love you, father.¡±

    Blood spilled across the black marble floor and king Dazka slumped to the ground. I left my axe buried there, in his flesh, and turned to the noises approaching from behind. It was the humans and my loyal dwarfs. The arrived in their black armor and white ice-troll pelts, their weapons wet with dwarf blood.

    ¡°Excellent work, Balagrim,¡± the commander of the humans said. ¡°We have taken the fortress. All that remains is securing the mithril mine for our emperor¡¯s ambitions.¡±

    The men stepped forward and I stomped the floor, hard enough to crack the marble tile and disturb dust from the walls of the colonnade. My eyes shined with power, pressured their bodies, such that the men did not take another step.

    ¡°This gate will be sealed shut,¡± I said. ¡°The emperor has already had his prize. The Golud Baradash is his to rule.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    The human looked surprised as I twirled my axe.

    ¡°I am your master,¡± I said. ¡°My word is as good as the emperor¡¯s. This door will be sealed, forever!¡±

    Those dwarfs still among the men ran forward. They set their axes on the ground and knelt before me. ¡°My king,¡± my lieutenant said. ¡°Yer command will be done.¡±

    ¡°I am no king,¡± I answered and slipped my axe back into its belt loop. I walked past them, toward the exit.

    ¡°I am a Demon Lord.¡±