《The Dungeon Boss's Favorite Game - A Virmo Story》 Shiftys Mission - The Prologue Despite his rather bland appearance and unassuming attitude, the man calling himself Dexter was actually very much not a man, nor even a human. He was actually a bloodthirsty monster wearing the shape of a man like most people would wear a shirt, a creature known as a Doppelganger, and his name was Shifty. He normally worked in the mid levels of the dungeon known as Deep Thousand, an infamous thousand level dungeon. However, today, he was on a mission. His boss, Kragathor, had commanded Shifty to infiltrate the nearby town of Millen, acquire several samples of something called a ¡®Virmo¡¯ and bring them back. In his present guise, he was a slightly pudgy with fair skin and brown hair. He wore scuffed, nicked, and dirty leather armor that was poorly fitted to his frame, and had a dinged up sword sheathed at his waist. On his back he carried a worn canvas rucksack. Altogether, it made him look the part of a freshly blooded adventurer, still unskilled but no longer inexperienced. In a town like Millen, such a disguise was nearly as good as an Invisibility potion. He had gotten through the gates with ease, flashing the counterfeit identification badge his boss had created for him. Now, he just had to do some selling and shopping. This job would be a cakewalk. This was not the first time that Shifty had visited the town, as his contract stipulated monthly vacations which allowed him to play a bit as well as keep up to date with the latest in civilized culture, a vital necessity for a being like Shifty who lived and died on the ability to deceive his enemies and prey. However, he kept overhearing people talking about these Virmo things that the boss had asked him to get. He stopped and asked a passerby where he could get a Virmo. ¡°Hm? Oh, the Virmo Store is right in Town Center Plaza. They bought out the old jeweler¡¯s place a couple weeks back. You really, really can¡¯t miss it. Shit, I can¡¯t wait until I can save up for one and finally play. Everyone¡¯s been talking about those things.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°I know, right? I¡¯ve been on an extended trip, and when I get back all anybody talks about is this new Virmo thing. Say, how much do they cost?¡± Shifty grinned on the inside at the talkative fool who was helping him and answering his questions. ¡°Surprisingly, only about twenty gold marks. I¡¯ve heard those things are practically artifact class with how complex their magic is, but they¡¯ve got some proprietary method to mass produce them or something like that,¡± the stranger said. ¡°Oh man, I might be able to afford one after I fence the loot from my trip. Thanks, pal!¡± Shifty amicably parted ways with the stranger and headed off to sell some of the items he¡¯d been sent off with in order to purchase the Virmo, even though he still had no idea what the item was. Fifteen minutes later, two items lighter and 82 gold marks richer, Shifty headed to the Virmo Store. It was easy to spot, as the building had been completely redone since the last time he¡¯d seen it. The walls were now covered in tiles of brushed steel, and the store front was made entirely of glass. Above the door, which was also made of glass, was a glowing sign in the shape of a pyramid. The place was certainly gaudy enough. Shifty went in. ¡°Welcome to the Virmo Store! How can I help you?¡± An annoyingly perky, blond elf girl chirped at him with a wide smile on her face. ¡°I want to buy some Virmos.¡± Shifty groaned inwardly. He really wanted to gnaw this cheery bitch¡¯s face off. ¡°Do you know which ones you want?¡± ¡°No. Do you have like a pamphlet or anything?¡± Strangling would be good too, he thought. ¡°Sure do!¡± She withdrew a very glossy and colorful paper from a storage item and handed it to him. ¡°I¡¯m just going to take my time and read this.¡± Oh gods, just shut up already and leave me alone. ¡°Sure thing!¡± He wandered away from the elf to read the literature. The Virmo was apparently actually spelled VRMMO, as all the products in the pamphlet were labeled as VRMMO games. It even helpfully defined VRMMO as Very Realistic Massively Magical Otherworld game. Shifty blinked. The ancient dragon of immeasurable power, Kragathor Tenset Malevolous, wanted him to buy a game? Chapter One Kragathor languished atop his favorite pile of gold as he waited for his minion to return and thought back on his recent past. He used to relish the tinkling sound of coins cascading down the huge mound with every minute muscle contraction from his gloriously crimson-scaled, half-mile long form that could only be considered the very image of serpentine grace. Now? Now he had grown numb to it and did not even take notice. Nor did he pay any heed to the dozens of crystal panes on which scryings were projected, following various parties of adventurers as they tromped around in the upper levels of Deep Thousand. Kragathor sighed. How many years since the last team of heroic adventurers fought their way to this, the lowest level of the greatest dungeon? How many since a party even reached this floor? Kragathor thought back fondly on the last group he faced. They¡¯d been woefully unprepared, and were exhausted and spent after picking a fight with his doorman. They¡¯d looked so ragged, so desperate to beat this dungeon complex that he took pity on them when the party¡¯s priest outright fainted due to Kragathor¡¯s overwhelming draconic aura. So, instead of squashing the puny beings with one of his exquisitely manicured claws, he sat them down to tea and had a lovely chat. It wasn¡¯t like he was just lonely or anything, you know? It was pity. Definitely pity. After a nice little chat, he¡¯d sent them on their way with some of his arts and crafts projects that he found unworthy of his private collection. Just a few artifact level enchanted weapons and armor pieces, useless baubles, really. After their triumphant return, he saw a large uptick in adventurers aiming for his level, many of them meeting their demise as they pushed too far too quickly. However, that was centuries ago. Since then, he¡¯d had to settle for just watching the adventurers from afar, through numerous scrying devices. He had grown to despair at this generation¡¯s crop of adventurers. They were a bunch of lazy good for nothings, that always whined about the quality of loot, but were too soft to delve deeper to where the better rewards lay, waiting to be claimed. Why, back in the day, there were twenty year olds who were pushing down to the 400th level. Now? These feckless fools were lucky to push past the 200th floor before reaching the age of 25. He lamented the declining quality of adventurers and yearned for the good old days. And maybe someone to talk to. Well, it¡¯s not like Kragathor Tenset Malevolous could just up and start a casual conversation with his contracted dungeon minions, could he? Besides, having hobbies is just as good as having companions and comrades, isn¡¯t it? Surely it is. And Kragathor was certainly not bored for he had many, many hobbies to keep him fulfilled. He had become a master of many things: smithing, tailoring, leather working, enchanting, alchemy, spell craft, ritual craft, arcane theory, literature, gardening, stone masonry, sculpting, painting, baking, puppetry, ventriloquism, and playing the violin. He¡¯d even fully mastered these illustrious crafts solely with his own glorious draconic claws and not relying on the crutch of using spell craft to change into a human form to use their tiny tools. Yet, despite his busy schedule, something was missing. Certainly not wealth. Even his eighth most favorite pile of gold coins was so large that the coins at the bottom were fused together through sheer pressure. Perhaps, what he yearned for was novelty? That would certainly explain why he had ordered his Doppelganger minion, Shifty, to go to the human town to fetch a magic device. After reviewing the weekly reports a few days ago, Kragathor had noticed a slight upward trend in adventurer deaths in the top floors, accompanied by significantly lower dungeon entrance numbers. Curious, he had redirected his normal scrying panes away from the adventurers that ventured into the mid-floors and focused on the newer adventurers. He viewed recordings of the deceased adventurers, as well as monitored other parties that were moving unusually slow. What many of them had in common is that they were distracted by discussion and banter, much of which centered around a mysterious new item being sold in town called a ¡®Virmo¡¯.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. What followed was a growing sense of nagging curiosity. Kragathor reviewed his records, and was unable to locate any sign of a new magic item being dropped in the dungeon by fallen adventurers. As he listened in on their conversations, he gradually drew a compelling picture. This Virmo device could project your mind into another world, called a Server. There were multiple Servers, each which contained a fantastical world with its own sets of rules and natural laws. Kragathor had to extract this information from jargon and slang riddled conversations, with terms like mobs, leveling up, and interface. He had been intrigued. He must have this new item, preferably multiple copies. Even if it failed to deliver on the promise of allowing him to explore a new world by proxy, it would be an amusing trinket to add to his hoard, to commemorate the worthlessness of human artifice. And so, he set Shifty on a mission. Surely it doesn¡¯t take this long to sneak into a town and buy or steal some items does it? Kragathor, a being who has witnessed the changing of geological ages, was brimming with impatience. Finally, with a burst of light and a pop of displaced air, a scruffy looking adventurer stood before him, holding out a battered canvas rucksack. Abruptly, his features and clothes seemed to melt like wax under a flame, as it was replaced by a gray skinned humanoid creature with no face. As his features shifted and warped, the creature dropped to one knee, and directed his gaze at the ground near the dragon¡¯s august presence. He held the bag out before him. ¡°It pleases this one to announce that this one has procured four different Virmo crystals for the Most Exalted One.¡± The Doppelganger¡¯s voice was as flat as his features, bereft of inflection and intonation, not betraying in the slightest the instinctual terror that was inspired by the avatar of destruction and might that was before him. ¡°Very well. Present them to me,¡± Kragathor commanded. His minion hurried to obey. From within the rucksack, he produced four equally sized boxes and laid them on a pedestal that rose out of the ground to accept the offerings. ¡°As Your Fearsomeness predicted, there were four varieties available. This one has acquired a sample of each.¡± ¡°Wonderful. I have added an extra day to your next vacation. I shall examine the items now. You are dismissed.¡± The Doppelganger bowed low, then backed out of the room. Once his minion had left the room, Kragathor darted his eyes back and forth to make sure he was truly alone, then let out a breath and a light giggle that was akin to rolling thunder. For some reason, he felt positively giddy with anticipation. He had not felt anything like this in many millennia. After a few deep breaths to calm himself, Kragathor gingerly picked up one of the tiny boxes and inspected it. It was covered in imagery and promotional text, and was a perfect example of the mortal trend of overly complicated packaging. It was held shut by a combination of adhesives and tiny hooks that required one to follow a specific order of operations to open it without damaging the packaging. However, as a collector at heart, Kragathor was more than a match for this daunting packaging. Granted, the mortals had also gotten the idea from him, as he had taken to encasing dungeon loot in increasingly more complicated fashion, hoping for it to help train up their manual dexterity and problem solving capabilities. Muttering low under his breath in the primordial language inscribed in the bones of the earth, Kragathor recited an incantation he had devised. ¡°Extract From Packaging!¡± With a barely audible pop, the contents of the box appeared in the palm of his other hand, a speck of white paper and a mote of shimmering crystal against a field of crimson scale. He gently placed the empty container and then the crystal back on the pedestal before turning his attention to the scrap of paper that came with the item. With great care, he unfolded the paper and scanned its contents. It seemed to be a guide for use, printed once in each of the common racial languages.
Instructions To activate your Very Realistic Massively Magical Otherworld Game (hereafter referred to as VRMMO game, pronounced as Virmo), give it the activation command: ¡°Virmo, Activate.¡± Select your language and the nation in which you reside You will then be prompted to create your account for your VRMMO game. Once your account registration is complete, you will then be able to enter the VRMMO game. To enter the VRMMO game, lay down with your head within five feet of the VRMMO game crystal and give the command: ¡°Virmo, Log In.¡± Enjoy your adventures in the Otherworlds, traveler! WARNING: Do not attempt to enter multiple VRMMO games at the same time. This will result in equipment failure and may induce psychic trauma. WARNING: This magic item is not intended for use by creatures without a physical form. Quasi-incorporeal and extraplanar creatures should consult with an arcanist before using a VRMMO game.
Chapter Two Kragathor extracted the contents of the other three boxes, and carefully arranged them so that each box was sitting next to its respective crystal. First, he meticulously inspected the crystal. It was a flawless piece of quartz, cut and polished into a pyramidal shape. It glowed a faint green. Physically, the other three were identical, except they glowed blue, red, and yellow. Each one¡¯s glow matched the color theme of its packaging. Next, he incanted an analysis spell. A small avalanche of gold coins attested to his surprise. The layered magic was like nothing he¡¯d ever seen before. It rivaled the complexity of the Administrative Datachest enchantment he had devised to simplify managing his thousand level dungeon and its many contracted employees. Kragathor had never seen anything of this level created by mere mortals. However, the complex weave of enchantment was for naught before his mighty intellect. The object before him was linked to another, and its primary functions would open an astral connection between its user¡¯s mind and the targeted device. It also made slight changes to the user¡¯s perception during the astral connection, allowing for it to modify sensory feedback. A minor extra function allowed the user to interact with the device without engaging the astral connection function through the use of projected illusions. It truly was a fascinating piece of work, and its complexity alone made it worthy of Kragathor¡¯s collection, even if it failed to deliver upon his expectations. He confirmed that the other three crystals were identically crafted, except they each connected to a different target. Next he examined the promotional text on the boxes. He set the first one down almost immediately, barely noting that it was named Lumelle. The world it described was too much like his own. It would probably not hold his attention long. The second one, Hoxland, showed promise, describing a world with terrible and alien gods, limited magic, and a level of craft that far surpassed what existed in his own. It sounded like it had a rich cultural background and complex history. The third one, Labyrinthia, was an immediate rejection, being set inside a dungeon that encompassed an entire world. No thanks. The final one, however, captured his attention as he read and reread the description.
CIRO ¡ª A world of technological marvel and industrial horror. Visit cities with sky scraping towers of steel and glass, or horrid wastelands contaminated by industrial toxins. Ciro is a world of dichotomies, filled with magnificent splendor and squalid horror. You may end up fighting against grotesque mutants or sleek war robots. As you Travel in this world you will find endless opportunities awaiting you to experience the best and the worst this world has to offer.
Kragathor gathered up all but the Virmo crystal for Ciro, and deposited them on a shelf in his personal collection. He returned to his favorite gold pile, settled in, and gave the activation command. ¡°Virmo, activate.¡± A screen appeared, displaying an emblem of a pyramidal crystal which then faded and was replaced by a list of mortal languages. Scanning through the list he noticed it even had Modern Draconic and High Draconic, the languages used by the lesser dragon-kin and by true dragon descendants, respectively. While Kragathor was well versed in other languages, there was no reason not to go with the most familiar one ¡ª even if it had been corrupted over the millennia by slang and foreign terminology ¡ª so he selected High Draconic. Briefly, he wondered if any of his own descendants still lived. It had been at least six thousand years since he was last visited by one of his many grandchildren, which left him with a faint sense of melancholy. Brushing that thought aside, he looked at the new prompt asking him to select the country that he resides in. This was troublesome as Kragathor was not familiar with any of these names. Mortal empires had a habit of rising and falling in the span of just a handful of centuries, so it was always difficult to keep track. So, he contacted his resident expert on the subject, forging a temporary telepathic link. ¡°Shifty. What is the current name of the mortal nation Deep Thousand is in?¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°It is called Austland, Your Wrathfulness. This one is pleased to be of use.¡± Kragathor severed the link, and selected the relevant entry and was then taken to a screen to set up his account.
Please create your account:
Name*: Kragathor Tenset Malevolous
Username*: KragHoardsSwag
Password*: ILoveGold1
Confirm Password*: ILoveGold1
Race (Select One): Dragon
Age (Select One): 500+
Occupation: Other: Dungeon Master
Household Income: Other: Incalculable
*Required field
He submitted the account information, and received a notification that his account had been created successfully and that he could now begin playing. Finally ready to test out the new game, Kragathor took the Ciro Virmo crystal, and set it on a small platform that he¡¯d enchanted to hover near his head. ¡°Virmo, log in,¡± the dragon heard his voice rumble across his lair before his awareness of his surroundings faded to nothingness. <^INITIALIZING^> <^ERROR - COULD NOT TRANSMIT PLAYER MESH - FILE SIZE TOO LARGE^> <^UNHANDLED EXCEPTION - CONTACTING PLAYER SUPPORT^> Kragathor found himself floating in a neutral void of neither dark nor light, embodied as a small luminescent mote. Suddenly, the scene changed to that of a cozy little office, complete with a wooden desk and plush chairs. Kragathor¡¯s non-form hovered over one, facing a ruddy skinned dwarf with a neatly braided beard. ¡°Hello, thank you for contacting Virmo Player Support, my name is Oren, and I will be assisting you today.¡± Oren briefly scanned the file in front of him. ¡°Hmm, it says here that your player mesh could not be transmitted due to file size limitations. Let me see what we can do about that.¡± ¡°What is a player mesh?¡± Kragathor¡¯s voice came out tinny and hollow rather than pants-shittingly thunderous. ¡°When you log in for the first time, it scans your body shape, so you have a comfortable body shape to use during the character creation process. It failing to load is why you¡¯re presently represented as an orb of light. Huh, this is odd. I¡¯m not finding any documentation on this particular error. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to send this over to development for them to review, but I¡¯m sure we can find a suitable short term solution for you. I¡¯ll just need to gather data to include in my report to the development team. Mister er¡­ Malevolous, it lists your race here as dragon, is that accurate?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The dwarf¡¯s face paled a little bit. ¡°Right. If you don¡¯t mind asking, sir, what age category are you in?¡± Kragathor paused to think. ¡°Hm, about ten thousand years ago I was classified as one of the eldest of the ancients. I don¡¯t really know what comes after that.¡± The dwarf¡¯s face drained of all color, and his face became a bit strained. ¡°Eh, erm, eh¡­ And, if it pleases you, sir, could you tell me your approximate length?¡± ¡°Two thousand and nine hundred feet, last I checked.¡± The dwarf¡¯s breathing started becoming a little ragged. ¡°Right. I, uh, I think that¡¯s plenty of information. I¡¯ll send that off to the development team and mark it highest priority. As for right now, if you do not wish to wait for them to patch the issue, I can set up a temporary avatar for you. It¡¯ll just be a blank humanoid template, but it should work for getting through character creation. In fact, I¡¯ll even add on the premium character creation package at no charge, as some small apology for this inconvenience. I¡¯ll have to get authorization from a boss before I am capable of any further compensation for wasting your invaluable time.¡± If he¡¯d had a hand in this form, he¡¯d wave it dismissively. ¡°That is fine. I would like to get started on trying out this Virmo game thing, so whatever is most expedient.¡± ¡°Yes, right. Right away! Immediately, sir.¡± The dwarf began furiously tapping away at a crystalline screen which looked remarkably similar to Kragathor¡¯s scrying panes. Moments later office scene faded to nothingness. <^INITIALIZING^> <^LOADING TEMPLATE-A.MESH - LOADED SUCCESSFULLY^> <^ENTERING CHARACTER CREATION^> Chapter Three Kragathor found himself in a generic humanoid form that looked not too dissimilar from the featureless gray form of a Doppelganger. In front of him stood a rather bland looking human male. <^PREMIUM CHARACTER CREATION KIT UNLOCKED^> When Kragathor focused on any single part of the human¡¯s body, a small pane of information would pop up with various sliders and options, allowing him to modify it as he saw fit. ¡°What is this?¡± <^THIS IS THE CHARACTER CREATION STAGE. HERE YOU ARE ABLE TO DESIGN THE FORM WHICH YOU WILL WEAR IN THE OTHERWORLD, KNOWN AS YOUR AVATAR, AND CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER¡¯S NAME. YOU WILL ALSO BE GRANTED ONE PERK TO APPLY TO YOUR CHARACTER.^> Interesting, Kragathor thought, noting that the strange voice that wasn¡¯t a voice could answer questions. ¡°What are you?¡± <^THIS IS THE SYSTEM.^> What else can you tell me, System?¡± <^SYSTEM MESSAGES CAN PROVIDE INFORMATION ON GENERAL GAME MECHANICS AND EXPLAIN BASIC GAME FEATURES.^> ¡°Can I create a character other than a human?¡± <^HUMANS ARE THE ONLY STARTING RACE ON THE CIRO SERVER. RACE CHANGES TO CYBORG OR GENEMOD CAN BE UNLOCKED THROUGH GAME PLAY. WITH THE PREMIUM CHARACTER CREATION KIT, ONE MAY APPLY COSMETIC CHANGES TO THEIR HUMAN CHARACTER TO APPEAR SIMILAR TO OTHER HUMANOID RACES, BUT THESE CHANGES ARE PURELY COSMETIC AND WILL NOT EFFECT STATS OR SKILLS.^> ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a shame. Well, I suppose it would be interesting to play as a human.¡± Kragathor turned his attention back to the motionless human before him, and began to tweak and modify it. If he was going to play as a human, he was going to make his avatar the most humanly human he could. As he worked, he decided to keep asking questions. ¡°So, what information can you provide me on classes?¡± <^SYSTEM MESSAGES WILL ONLY CONVEY DETAILS ON GENERAL GAME MECHANICS AND BASIC GAME FEATURES.^> ¡°Do you think you could tone that down? It¡¯s like you¡¯ve been shouting in my head this whole time.¡± <^Confirmed.^> Kragathor continued to shape his avatar into the very image of humanity. A veritable avatar of mankind. ¡°How does one attain a class?¡± <^By visiting a class trainer. They can be located using the city directory, although some will only be made available for discovery through game play.^> ¡°What is a class?¡± <^A class is used to represent a particular path of advancement, granting skills and abilities following a specific theme.^> ¡°What is this perk that I will be granted?¡± <^The next step of character will be to choose a character name and a perk. You will be given a full listing of perks whose requirements you meet, as well as a description of what each one does. All characters receive one perk at creation. For standard accounts, the perk availability will be randomized. The Premium Character Creation Kit allows you to choose the perk you will receive from the full list of available choices.^> Kragathor took a step back, eyed his work critically, then nodded. ¡°Alright, it looks like I am ready to move on to the next step of character creation.¡± The next screen was rather simple. Kragathor¡¯s avatar stood to one side, and a pane of information appeared, prompting him to input his name and select a perk. The name was rather easy, he just picked the most human sounding name he could think of, which just left selecting a perk. At this point, he considered his options with deliberate care, as there were a wide array of perks in the list. Some offered faster skill gain for certain subsets of skills, while others offered flat bonuses to certain types of actions, while others were less concretely defined. He wanted to choose something that would lead to a path far different from the path he had already taken, that of overwhelming power in offense and defense. In the end, he was torn between two options:
Supreme Precision
Your consistency is remarkable, in both your successes and failures. It is nearly effortless for you to achieve the same results repeatedly. If you fail at a task, miss a target, or mistime a strike, you will continue to do so until you correct your mistake intentionally. Conversely, success will be similar repeated until conditions change.
Vulnerability ExploitThe author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
It is easier for you to exploit flaws and vulnerabilities that you have found. 10% increase in effect when targeting a vulnerability. This modifier stacks freely with other modifiers.
The other perks he scrolled through either made no sense to him, or just did not appeal. He did not desire overwhelming offense or defense, and the idea of succeeding purely through skill sounded rather refreshing. Finally, he accepted his choice.
Please choose a name for your character:
Bob
Perk (choose one): Supreme Precision
Kragathor confirmed and accepted the final details, and finally managed to enter the game.
<^Now engaging the tutorial.^> Well, maybe not the game, proper, but the tutorial at the least. Kragathor¡¯s avatar materialized in a room with dozens of other humans that were either milling about in confusion or running about. All the humans that Kragathor ¡ªnow inhabiting his avatar named Bob¡ª could see were dressed in the same uniform of white shirt with short sleeves, blue pants and white shoes. He felt mildly annoyed at what he saw. Many of these humans had obviously maxed out their height sliders during character creation, as if that would somehow make them less puny. In fact, all of them also had toned muscles and well-proportioned limbs. Several of the nearby avatars were turning to stare at Bob, now. In comparison to the healthy and muscular giants, his avatar was short, barely five feet tall. His limbs were frail and sickly looking, and beady brown eyes peered out from under a mop of unruly brown hair. The diminutive runt looked around and shook his head sadly. It was such a shame to see all these mortals striving to compensate for their own frail and puny bodies with such a ridiculous display. Especially because they blocked his line of sight, so he couldn¡¯t see what everyone was doing beyond the crowd in front of him. He walked around the group of idle people, and saw several humanoids that looked to be made of metal. Each one had a numeral made of light floating over their head, as if indicating the order in which you should speak to them. There were several people crowded around each one. He approached the humanoid with a 1 floating above his head. The world around him grayed out and the creature seemed to focus on him. ¡°Greetings, Traveler! I am a quest NPC! That means that I am not a real person! NPC stands for Non-Person Character. There are two types of friendly NPCs, quest NPCs like myself, and normal NPCs. All NPCs can be killed, but quest NPCs will reappear within minutes of their death. Quest NPCs will typically give you quests, like so!¡± Bob heard a distinct chime sound before the NPC continued speaking. ¡°Speak to quest NPC number two to continue the quest and learn how to access the menus.¡± The next several minutes were both informative and gruelingly boring as the quest NPCs taught him the basics of accessing and using his interface. He could bring up each menu by stating its title out loud. For example, saying ¡°Status¡± brought up the following:
Name: Bob Overall Level: 1 Classes:
Race: Human HP: 100/100
Perk: Supreme Precision Stamina: 100/100
Strength: 10 Dexterity: 10 Agility: 10 Recovery: 10
Toughness: 10 Power: 0 Links: 0 Deviation: 0/0
The status screen was a summation of all his character¡¯s vital information. After completing the quest of talking to the five quest NPCs, he received a notification that he¡¯d received 100 credits, bringing him to a grand total of 100 credits in his inventory. Apparently, credits were some sort of non-physical version of a gold coin. Why someone would want a gold coin that they couldn¡¯t actually hold was beyond him. The only thing to do after speaking to the quest NPCs was to take a turn in the combat simulator before he would be unleashed on the game world in full. When Bob entered the combat simulator, he noticed a distinct imbalance in weapon types. There were a handful of melee weapons available to try, but there were dozens upon dozens of weapons in various shapes and sizes all with handles and triggers reminiscent of a crossbow¡¯s. Some could easily be held in one hand, while others probably could not be operated except from a prone position. Bob decided to start with one of the small ones and work his way up. The one he picked up was small and easy to move around. Surmising that the rather large hole in the end of the device was the business end, he pointed it toward what could only be a target and pulled the trigger. *BOOM* The shock of the unexpected noise and extreme recoil caused him to fling the weapon toward the ceiling. Lucky for his draconic pride, nobody else was in the simulator to see that. He retrieved the weapon and looked intently at it, and said the trigger word, ¡°Identify.¡±
.45 Holdout Pistol
This large caliber holdout pistol is meant as a sidearm of last resort to finish off an enemy up close and personal. This single-shot pistol has exceptional recoil and a short barrel, so it is unsuitable for distant targets. Must be manually reloaded after each shot.
Kragathor recognized most of the words in the description, but appeared to be lacking in contextual knowledge, as he still had no idea what the hell just happened. Chapter Four Bob stepped out of the combat simulator to do some research. ¡°Information Network,¡± Bob spoke the command he had learned from the quest NPCs. A blank pane appeared before him, awaiting input. The first term he searched was pistol. This lead to him following a convoluted path through the so-called Weave of Interrelated Knowledge (WIK). He learned that a pistol was a small type of firearm, which was itself a style of ranged weapon that propelled hunks of metal at a distant target along ballistic trajectories through the use of chemical propellants contained within a barrel that focused the force in a single direction. Twenty minutes later, while reading an article on the uses for nitrates in agricultural industries, Bob realized he had gone way off topic in his research. Well, he may have strayed off his path of inquiry into the brush of useless trivia, but he felt he now had a good grasp on what those weapons in the combat simulator were. Guns. The particular weapon he had chosen was probably among the worst he could have gone for, being meant for very close range use against a heavy target. Apparently, guns in their many forms were the primary weapon of choice in this world. They were especially flexible as one could prepare many different types of ammunition to use with each type of gun for different situations. There were even some rather exotic variants on the concept using different methods of propelling the projectile or using directed energy. Bob stepped back into the combat simulator, and inspected a number of the weapons, before settling on something more reasonable and affordable.
9mm Pistol
9mm Pistols in their many variants are one of the most widely produced weapons in Ciro. The ammunition used is the second most widely available, and can be freely swapped between pistols, submachine guns, carbines and long rifles that are chambered to accept this round. It provides moderate penetrative and stopping power, though it will be of little us against a heavily armored target. This weapon contains a ten round magazine, allowing for a maximum load of eleven rounds before reloading.
He took the weapon over to a firing lane, aimed it with his right hand at the target and pulled the trigger. *BANG* His shot impacted high and to the right of the target. He squeezed off two more shots. *BANG*BANG*If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Both shots hit in nearly the exact same place. Bob¡¯s face creased in a frown. These weapons were more difficult than they appeared. He adjusted his aim and tried again. *BANG* Low and to the left. Annoyed, he threw the pistol at the target, and surprisingly managed to hit it. < ¡°Settings.¡± Bob browsed the settings, and saw a plethora of options for notifications and logs for a number of different subjects. He left character notifications as it was, and set combat and other notifications to Important Only. He felt like constantly getting notifications during a tense situation might be less than ideal. Bob grabbed another 9mm pistol and tried again. Ten shots later and still not a single hit on target. He had no idea what he was doing wrong. He was emulating the way he¡¯d seen humans us crossbows, after all; although these handguns did not require bracing a second hand under the frame. He had his elbow tucked into his side for stability, and pointed his arm in the direction of the target when he fired, so why could he not hit? He gave up on the handguns and decided to try something larger. He selected a particularly sleek looking weapon.
5mm Gauss Rifle
The 5mm Gauss Rifle fires small ferrous projectiles at high speeds to ensure maximum penetrative power. Can be loaded with over-penetrator rounds or fragmenting rounds. Ammo packs act as a combined battery and magazine, with enough charge and projectiles for 45 shots.
This rifle was much heavier than the others, despite its sleek and compact size. Bob fiddled around with how to securely hold it before he realized it was meant to be held firmly against the shoulder of the hand on the trigger grip while being supported with the other hand underneath the barrel. This weapon was also equipped with a framed crystalline pane on the top, with a red dot projected in the center. He tested the weapon out. *CRACK* The noise was rather different than the pistols, sounding almost like a lightning bolt spell. He looked at the target and saw he missed by a few inches to the left. He adjusted his aim and tried again. *CRACK* This time he hit the left edge of the target. < Bob found himself in a very large room with high ceilings, surrounded by others in the default uniform. As he walked around, looking for a clue as to what to do next, he dodged in and out amongst the giants surrounding him. So, this is what it is like to be human, huh? Such a tiny and fragile existence they lead. Once he managed to push his way out of the crowd, he spotted the familiar metal carapace of a quest NPC, with a glowing ¡°!¡± above its head and made his way toward it. Just like in the tutorial, when he interacted with them, the world around him became faded and blurry, with only the NPC being in focus. ¡°Welcome to Servo City, on the front lines of the Great Reclamation! Bob, as a baseline human with no class, it is strongly suggested that you visit a class trainer before venturing out of the green zones. Also, you may want to see about visiting some gear vendors to outfit yourself. Once you have obtained a class and visited a gear vendor, return to me and I will provide you with another quest!¡± As the rest of the world came back into focus, Bob heard the now familiar chime of a quest update. He stepped off to the side and brought up his Quest Log to view the new mission.
Get Some Gear and Some Class
You have been tasked with obtaining your first class from a class trainer and visiting a gear vendor to outfit yourself. Class Trained: 0/1 Gear Vendor Visited: 0/1
After confirming the quest details, Bob closed out of the Quest Log and went off in search of class trainers. If he was really going to commit to playing the role of a human in this world, he would have to find out all the available classes, so he could get the most suitable one that aligned with his desires to try a new and different way. Along one of the walls stood a row of human NPCs dressed and armed in a variety of different ways. They were easily identifiable as NPCs by their fixed expressions and their unwavering attention. That, and almost every person in here that was identifiable as a player were wearing the blue and white uniform of a brand-new player. Bob took some time to speak with each of the NPCs, and each one gave him an overview of each class and their strengths and weaknesses. There were a wide variety of specializations, from the close combat and defense-oriented Bulwark to the Grenadier with long range area effect bombardment. However, as far as which one would make him feel most like a human, he had always admired the humans for their creativity and crafting and had gone so far as to imitate these arts for his hobbies, so he would probably have to go with either the Combat Engineer or Drone Operator. The Combat Engineer¡¯s specialty lay in the deployment of portable defense systems, such as portable shields and automated turrets. The Drone Operator was the opposite side of the same concept, deploying and controlling semi-autonomous mobile offensive platforms while staying out of harm¡¯s way. Squad Leader would have also been a very human choice to make, as they were so prone to teaming up, but Bob did not believe he would be able to fulfill the role of group leader properly; he might be the master of a gigantic dungeon, but he had always fought solo and left coordination and tactics in the upper floors to the minions involved. After all, just how much strategy is needed when you are capable of eliminating small armies with naught but a single breath? While he had difficulty wrapping his mind around the concept of drones, even after looking up details in the WIK, the idea behind the class was appealing, even more so than the biological counterpart, the Splicer class. Having several mechanical automatons carrying out his orders felt right. Ah, but wasn¡¯t that more or less how his dungeon operated most days? His minions carrying out their standing orders to fight against intruders? Perhaps it was just a bit too close to his normal routine. The Combat Engineer, on the other hand, relied on strategic placement of assets for each engagement. He would need to learn all about the quirks of combat in this world so that he could use these assets to the best of his abilities, and he would have to place himself in the line of fire to do so ¡ª at least more than a Drone Operator would have to. The idea of being in actual danger left him feeling a little thrilled, even though he knew it was all an elaborate fiction. Bob returned to the trainer for Combat Engineering, and as usual the rest of the world went out of focus. ¡°Welcome back, Bob. Have you decided to join the ranks of Combat Engineers, then?¡± The words were gruff, but friendly, and the NPC¡¯s face even appeared to express a small, knowing smile. The details were really quite astounding. ¡°I have,¡± he answered. Bob heard the chime of a quest update, and a light washed over him. ¡°Alright, here we go. Make sure to equip your gear once you receive it. < Basic Portable Shield The Basic Portable Shield allows the user to deploy a temporary fortification made of poly-ceramic plates sandwiched between thin layers of electrically reinforced non-Newtonian fluids. When deployed, the shield will fold out to be six feet wide by four feet tall, and will consume 400 Watts from the user¡¯s power supply capacity.
Basic TurretThe narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The Basic Turret allows the user to deploy an automated stationary weapons control unit, which comes stock with slug and buck shot round capabilities and the desired mode will be ready to go upon deployment. Switching between firing modes will take 20 seconds. The Basic Turret will automatically fire on all targets in the vicinity, starting from closest and working towards the farthest. The Basic Turret has a cyclic rate of fire of 45 rounds per minute. Requires one channel from a Tier 1 or better Link with IFF upgrade to operate, and consumes 1000 Watts from the user¡¯s power supply capacity.
¡°Uh, so, you can put out walls and¡­ Dancing Guns?¡± The woman asked, referring to the enchantment that allowed a weapon to act separately from its wielder. ¡°More or less.¡± Bob stowed the items back in his inventory. Handy thing, much better than the spatial storage items in real life. ¡°I have two of each. With my gear, I can put out two Shields and a Turret. So, uh, since I guess we¡¯re gonna work together¡­ You can call me Bob.¡± ¡°Oh, right. You can call me ShadowRunner. This is my sister, you can call her FarShot.¡± ¡°Alright, ShadowRunner, FarShot, it¡¯s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± FarShot giggled. ¡°Nobody says things that formal anymore.¡± Bob shrugged, ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with following the old ways once in a while.¡± As he spoke, he received a new notification noise which sounded like three distinct clicking noises. < From: Subject: Tunnel Work Heya pal! My cousin Kiera messaged me and said you could help me out by guarding me while I head into some Yellow Tunnels to perform some repair work. If you¡¯re interested, I can pay you 100 credits. It¡¯s half what I pay for a Corporate Contract, but it¡¯s twice what you¡¯d get from those money grubbing fuck-nuts. If you¡¯re still interested, I¡¯m free tomorrow morning, around 10 till 2 in the afternoon. We¡¯ll need at least two hours, so I¡¯d need you to show up by noon, though the earlier the better. Kiera said you seem decent, so I hope you can come through. May the Market Bless You, Vince ¡°Just a moment, guys, I need to send a message.¡± To: From: Subject: Re: Tunnel Work I can assist you in this endeavor, and accept your proposed terms. Please send me Nav coordinates for where to meet. Once we rendezvous tomorrow, I shall defend you on your foray into the Yellow Tunnels. Sincere Regards, Bob Having sent off the message, Bob smiled. He had the requests for today, and another one lined up for tomorrow morning. It was a good day for earning credits. Even if they weren''t real gold. ¡°Right, sorry about that. So, do you guys have any other requests lined up?¡± The two siblings looked at each other. ¡°We were planning to just do them one at a time.¡± Bob projected his best fake adventurer teacher persona as he recited wisdom he¡¯d overheard numerous times while scrying on adventurers. ¡°Haha, that¡¯s a rookie mistake! Always stack your requests! Grab the open ended kill bounty for mutants as well, and see if you can get the one for the data chip retrieval and the rogue drone mother. I¡¯ll grab the one you two have already picked up.¡± The siblings complied as Bob picked up the extra request that he hadn¡¯t noticed before. ¡°Okay! Now, let¡¯s follow our navigation markers to the tunnels!¡± Bob turned to stride away, but stopped when ShadowRunner spoke up. ¡°Uh, hold on a second, let me add you to our group.¡± ¡°Group?¡± Bob asked. ¡°Ah, yea, me and FarShot figured this bit out. Let me send you an invite real quick. Anyways, with this, we all share experience and kill credit. It¡¯s supposed to also help us regulate looting, but we didn¡¯t get that far¡­¡± < A half hour later, they¡¯d wound through various streets and finally come across an entrance to the Yellow Tunnels that was near their objectives. The entrance was basically a large room, with a heavy steel door on either end. One door could not be opened unless the other was closed and latched. A pair of turrets sat in opposite corners of the ceiling. Once they exited the room, they found themselves in a chilly and damp space. Light was provided by dual luminous strips that ran along the ceiling¡¯s edges. FarShot and ShadowRunner seemed spooked as they traveled onward, descending into the tunnel complex beneath the city. ¡°You seem really composed, Bob. Are you an adventurer in real life?¡± ¡°I¡­ I spend most of my time in Deep Thousand. I guess you could say I picked this up to get away from all that for a while. Take a break, you know?¡± The siblings¡¯ faces took on a look of awe. FarShot spoke this time, ¡°We¡¯ve always wanted to be adventurers. Grew up hearing all the stories of their heroic deeds and the tales from the Age of Heroes. But our parents would never allow it.¡± She seemed somewhat dejected as she said it. ShadowRunner¡¯s voice took on a mocking tone. ¡°The family legacy is too important. Myeh Myeh Myeh.¡± FarShot spoke bitterly, ¡°At least you probably won¡¯t be married off to some middle aged fuck-head to be their second or third wife and secure some shitty deal.¡± ShadowRunner¡¯s voice softened. ¡°I know, sis. I just can¡¯t do anything to stop that sort of thing as long as Dad¡¯s around. No matter how much we both wish he¡¯d fucking croak already, like the fucking toad he is.¡± FarShot sighed. After several moments of piecing together context clues, Bob felt inordinately proud as he figured out what they were alluding to. ¡°So, why not just kill him?¡± The two looked at him, but said nothing. So he just shrugged. ¡°Life is too long to always cater to the wishes of others. Eventually, you have to do things for yourself.¡± They continued to look at him funny. Then they turned to look at each other. Bob paid no attention, as he was focused on their surroundings. Chapter Seven Bob, FarShot and ShadowRunner continued their trek into the tunnels of the Yellow Zone. Where the city had been clean and tidy, the tunnels here were grungy and littered with trash. Every so often they¡¯d catch glimpses of mutant roaches scattering at their approach, each one as long as a human forearm. FarShot hugged her rifle, a 5mm Gauss like the one Bob had practiced with in the simulator, but with a tube on top where the one he¡¯d used had the small crystal pane. It had been too expensive for him to purchase, so he¡¯d ended up purchasing a Basic .223 Semi-Auto Rifle which he had yet to test out. ShadowRunner was equipped with two pistols. As Bob watched ShadowRunner swing them about, looking for threats, he got the distinct feeling that he had been using them entirely wrong in the combat simulator. ShadowRunner held the pistols straight out, where Where Bob had been aiming them from his waist, more or less, with his elbows tucked into his sides. ¡°Alright, Bob, last time FarShot and I were here, we got attacked only a little bit further in than this. So, yeah. Keep your eyes open. Dying kinda sucks.¡± Bob was intrigued. ¡°What¡¯s it like? Dying in game?¡± ¡°It¡¯s painful,¡± FarShot answered. ¡°Then once you come back, you feel like you have a terrible hangover for the next hour, and when you move around it just feels¡­ off. It¡¯s kind of shitty. You get a stat penalty for an hour after you revive. We both just logged out until the death penalty was over.¡± ¡°Yep. Then we ran into you just a few minutes after logging back in.¡± ShadowRunner added. ¡°Well, let¡¯s try to avoid that this time,¡± Bob said, though now he was truly curious. He¡¯d not had much occasion to feel pain in his life, much less a hangover. It would take month¡¯s worth of production output from a single large brewery to get a dragon drunk for a single night. He only knew this bit of trivia due to an old and long dead friend, Aureloden, who had been known among the mortals at the time as the Drunkard Dragon, and had extorted multiple kingdoms for alcoholic tribute before he was killed by a mercenary army. As they continued through the tunnels, more and more side passages began to open up, and from them they could hear skittering sounds and distant hisses and squeaks. ¡°Man, I¡¯m glad this place is well lit, because if it wasn¡¯t it would be creeping me out way worse than it already is,¡± ShadowRunner said. ¡°It still makes my skin crawl, knowing those sounds are from giant bugs, those huge rat things, or Theron knows what else,¡± his sister replied. ¡°Well, if anything comes, I¡¯ll toss down a shield. That should cut off about half of the corridor. Then we can just focus on killing them.¡± ¡°Yeah, I suppose that makes sense,¡± said FarShot. Her brother grunted in agreement. A few minutes later, ShadowRunner held up his hand. ¡°I think I hear something approaching, ahead and left.¡± He pointed to a side passage some fifty feet ahead. ¡°Right, let¡¯s get ready,¡± Bob said. He deployed a shield to block off the left side of the tunnel. The shield, once deployed, spread out into a solid wall of dark, lustrous material that came up almost to Bob¡¯s chin. He then deployed a turret along the right hand wall, choosing the buckshot option. He still hadn¡¯t looked up what the two options meant, but the idea of shooting shell-less molluscs at a target seemed rather ridiculous. They would probably just splatter everywhere without causing any damage, so he intuited that the term must have another meaning in this world which the translation enchantment was failing to capture. Not that the concept of buckshot made any more sense. It just didn¡¯t sound as¡­ gooey. The turret, which looked like an armored eighteen inch tall egg when inactive, sprouted legs of blackened metal to stabilize itself, and the tapered top of it split open as a cluster of lenses arrayed around a barrel popped out, and began to sweep over the area. Bob and FarShot stood back, while ShadowRunner crouched against the right wall, and faced the gap between the shield and the left wall. A skittering sound began to grow louder, accompanied by an odd, hissing bark. Dozens of dog-sized hairless rats with six legs and green skin poured out of the tunnel ShadowRunner had pointed out, and charged toward the threesome. Some tried to scrambled over the dark and glossy material of the shield, but none of their six limbs could gain purchase on the unnaturally slick surface. As soon as the critters rounded the shield, Bob¡¯s turret began firing, a steady *THUNK* every second and a half, sometimes seeming to hit multiple mutant rats with a single shot. Bob himself was focused on aiming and firing with his rifle as the over-sized and garishly colored rodents rounded the edge of the shield. Not much skill was needed here, as he just needed to point the weapon in the direction of the wave of rodent flesh and he was practically guaranteed to hit something. ShadowRunner was firing his pistols with wild abandon while his sister was carefully selecting and dispatching her targets. Together, they managed to eliminate the swarm of mutant rats, leaving a pile of quivering flesh, pools of blood and scraps of hide. < Small Rail Cannon This electrically driven cannon fires high velocity tungsten sabots with high precision. It is currently tooled for integration with an automated system. This weapon is prone to over-heating if proper coolant subsystems are not installed. Power requirements (minimum): 700 Watts Power requirements (recommended): 1200 Watts Rate of fire: 15 RPM ¡°Oh, wow. I want to make a turret with this thing.¡± Bob shared the cannon¡¯s details with the other two. ¡°That would be awesome,¡± ShadowRunner said. ¡°I ended up with something called a part printer and assembly bay. Everything else was labeled as some variant of Drone Component. I guess we can just sell it off for credits and upgrade our gear,¡± said FarShot. ¡°Makes sense,¡¯ her brother agreed. ¡°Look it up on the WIK first, you never know if it might be something useful.¡± Bob deactivated and gathered up his items, and retrieved his damaged turret. ¡°So, keep going or not?¡± ¡°I say we head back. I¡¯m like one solid hit away from dying, and I¡¯m about out of ammo. Gotta make sure I really stock up next time.¡± FarShot nodded. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s probably nearing time for dinner,¡± she said with a roll of her eyes. ¡°Right. I suppose I should figure out how to repair my stuff. I hope it¡¯s not overly complicated.¡± After a brief walk, following their Nav screens and only running into a few mutant rats and cockroaches along the way, they exited the tunnels of the Yellow Zone into a a warehouse filled area in the Green Zone of Servo City. After a brief farewell, the siblings disappeared in a glowing swirl of light. Chapter Nine Bob followed his Nav screen back to the request board. As soon as he touched the pane, he received a prompt asking him to turn in his requests, which he accepted. He received some experience and 270 credits for the three requests he¡¯d completed. He then returned to the Player Arrival Area, reading the WIK as he walked, figuring out what was needed to do repairs on his damaged turret and shield. The process seemed to be fairly simple, he just had to activate his field repair kit with his link, provide raw materials, and apply the micro-bot repair paste to the damaged areas. If he were working with customized equipment it would be more involved, but Basic Industries included proper repair schema with all their equipment. Quite simple, really. Even simpler and more efficient if he could find a crafting workstation. Before finding a space to sit and work, he first went to the quest NPC to report he had completed three requests from the request board. He received another 100 credits and more bonus experience, which triggered another level up. < HeiShan Link - Dual Channel - IFF Upgrade This Link, manufactured by HeiShan Technologies, comes with two Tier 1 channel transceivers and an IFF upgrade. Compatible with all USO-33.797-f compliant devices and USO-24.912-g compliant remote reactors.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Cost: 200 Credits Cost with trade-in: 160 Credits Bob focused on the option mentioning trade-in, and received a pop up explaining that he could trade in his currently equipped link for a discount. Quite reasonable, Bob thought, unaware that his Basic Link would easily sell for more than twice what he would receive as a discount. With a healthy sum of 190 credits remaining, he checked out his options for Remote Reactor upgrades. There was a plethora of options, ranging from 1 KW models to 500 KW. Bob didn¡¯t need a vast increase in power, just a bit of extra room to work with, and really, that¡¯s all his budget would support, anyways. He ended up selecting a 2.6 KW model, manufactured by Unlimited Power Ltd., that would come out to 135 credits after trade-in. With just 55 credits left from his evening¡¯s activities, he picked up another spare set of Basic Portable Shield and Basic Turret for 50 credits, then spent the rest of his credits on ammo. He would have liked to pick up better turrets, but he would need to wait until he had more funds, or get a schematic to build one himself. Bob turned to look at the gathered players, and considered gathering some of them into a group to tackle more requests. But how to do that? FarShot and ShadowRunner had been the ones to approach him earlier. He could try their approach, but was it the proper etiquette? The two of them did seem to be rather sheltered, and may have very well breached whatever social rules normally governed adventurers, not that he would know. They had seemed rather unsure of themselves when they approached him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until tomorrow, and work with them again? Yes, that would be best. Let ShadowRunner do the recruiting. Really, it would be rude of him to go and find new group members to work with at this point, right? Surely. While Bob could undoubtedly do a better job, he¡¯d already accepted ShadowRunner as a member of his group, and it would be unseemly to go behind his back. That¡¯s what a human would think, right? Social anxiety? What¡¯s that? Certainly nothing a dragon would feel, even if he were deigning to pass himself off as a puny human. For now, it might be best to just log off for a bit, and wait for the morning.
Kragathor shook his head uncertainly, mildly disoriented by the transition from his in-game puny human form to one of majesty and grandeur beyond comparison. Kragathor regarded the Virmo crystal. This object was indeed worthy of his personal collection, as well as its counterpart, the Server. However, since he¡¯d already used this one, he should have a pristine and unused one to place with the other three. Tapping into the power of his dungeon, Kragathor fashioned a piece of quartz from raw mana, creating an exactly perfect replica of the crystal floating on the pedestal before him. A few minutes of concentration later, and he¡¯d copied most of the enchantments over, precisely as they were at the time he¡¯d analyzed them, barring the one which linked the Virmo crystal to the server. With a moderate effort of will, he forced the connection, pushing past the minor resistance he encountered. He analyzed and inspected the newly created Virmo crystal. It was a perfect copy in every way. Which gave him an idea. Kragathor stowed the newly forged Virmo crystal within its rightful place in his personal collection. Once he was finished, he created two more copies, each as perfect and identical as the last. His party already had three members. Now he just needed two more to fill the gaps. The team already had a ranged damage dealer, a defensive support, and a stealthy support, so all that was needed was a healer and a front line defensive fighter ¡ª or in Ciro terms, a Medic and a Bulwark. Kragathor turned his attention to one of the crystal panes with which he monitored his dungeon, and began searching through his contracted minions using the Administrative Datachest, looking for two individuals that would fit his needed criteria. He could always rely on Shifty and his crew of Doppelgangers, but Kragathor had already imposed enough on that particular minion. Although, maybe Kragathor could borrow a few of Shifty¡¯s subordinates during their down time to train whoever he chose so that they would be able to fit in and pretend to be humans. Surely, that wouldn¡¯t be too much of an imposition. Chapter Eleven Buzzwhistle Blackgear was a dark gnome of simple tastes. He always kept his home and work area tidy. He enjoyed cooking, especially with a mug or two of fizzy cider. His favorite evening pastime was to relax on his apartment balcony and listen to the music wafting up from the tavern below. Most of all, he loved his job. He truly enjoyed his life as a tenth generation minion in the dungeon of Deep Thousand. His family was traditionally responsible for maintaining some of the more complex traps between the 350th and 410th levels. Even though he was not following in the family¡¯s footsteps, leaving that to his brothers and sisters, he still did his best to serve in the name of His Supreme Magnificence; he worked as an alchemist and healer in Deep Town, the subterranean city in which all of Deep Thousand¡¯s sentient minions lived during their off hours. Deep Town, despite its humble start as a dungeon barracks turned residential sector, was now a thriving meropolis filled with many nonhuman species, and had an official population count of just above two million residents. It was the best kept secret of the nonhuman world. Buzzwhistle, Buzz for short, was proud that his job contributed directly to the wellbeing and comfort of those who worked openly in the dungeon¡¯s floors during their off hours, as they held a stressful job. While Buzz would be thrilled to serve Deep Thousand in any capacity, the thought of being bludgeoned, stabbed, burned or frozen to the brink of death before being whisked away and healed by the dungeon¡¯s magic was abjectly terrifying to him. That these brave soldiers continued to do their job every day was a testament to their fierce loyalty, as well as the quality of care they received from the best therapeutic mind mages in the world. Buzz was packing up his work area, done with his shift for the day, and already imagining heading to his favorite tavern, 300 Deep, and pounding back a few mugs of fizzy cider. Maybe today he¡¯d muster up the courage to buy Crystalcog Springlever a drink. Maybe slip a little something into the drink and bring her back to his place. She had no family, after all, and such smooth skin and her voice was so clear and perfect. He could just imagine her melodic screams as he removed her skin. Lost in his sudden pleasant daydreaming, Buzz jumped when he realized someone had entered his work area. Towering over him, as most humanoid races do, was a Doppelganger. Buzz was overawed. The Doppelgangers were famous in Deep Town. Rumors had been going around that Shifty, the leader of the Doppelgangers, had been personally sent on a mission by His Terrible Majesty himself! A lamprey like mouth opened up in the smooth face beneath the Doppelganger¡¯s sulfur yellow eyes, and it spoke in a silky smooth baritone voice that was like butter to Buzz¡¯s ears. Buzz concluded that he could listen to this Doppelganger narrate the inventory of the city¡¯s food stores and be fully captivated the entire time. He wondered how the Doppelganger¡¯s screams would sound. Buzz shook his head, embarrassed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what? I didn¡¯t catch that.¡± The Doppelganger sighed. ¡°Buzzwhistle Blackgear, you have received an assignment. You are to test out a new human magic item, called a Virmo. You will be working together with two other members of this dungeon, and two unsuspecting humans, within the Otherworld of the Virmo game.¡± Buzz started to drift off again, enraptured by the velvety smooth voice with a stupid grin on his face. ¡°Fuck it, take this, it¡¯s your mission instructions and the Virmo crystal.¡± The Doppelganger tossed a silken bag at the gnome, and he barely managed to catch it as it bounced off his chest. ¡°Fucking creepy ass gnome,¡± the Doppelganger muttered as he stalked off. Buzz, however, paid no attention to the insult as the Doppelganger¡¯s words began to sink in. An assignment? This was amazing! Special assignments only came directly from one source, the Overseer of Eons himself!
Morphiest frowned in displeasure as the ogre, Chunk, prostrated himself before her. Why couldn¡¯t she be the one to carry out the will of His Overwhelming Grace? ¡°Chunk do job! Chunk smash good! Chunk best at smashing!¡± ¡°Okay, whatever, just read this and follow the instructions.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± The ogre scratched his head and looked embarrassed. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Chunk not read.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t read?¡± ¡°Chunk smash good. Chunk not know squigglies.¡± A savage grin split Morphiest¡¯s face, literally. She ran her tentacle-like tongue over her sharp, conical teeth in anticipation. It would seem that Morphiest would need to step in to prevent this assignment from becoming a total ruin due to the incompetence of a certain ogre. An ogre that, she had no doubt, had been picked by Shifty from the personnel records. Maybe when her deeds finally came forward, she would even be able to take over Shifty¡¯s position. The thought of usurping her mentor¡¯s position filled her with a pleasure that was almost sexual. ¡°But¡­ it says in your file that you can read. Oh, my. Did you lie to His Insatiableness? Oh, my¡­ That¡­ That¡¯s not good, Chunk. Really not good.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Chunk not lie! Chunk just¡­ not say right answer¡­¡± ¡°Oh, no, I¡¯m obligated to report this, you know. You might lose your minion contract over this. There¡¯s nothing I can do¡­ Well, except, maybe¡­¡± The Doppelganger leered at the ogre, who began smashing his head into the floor, hard enough to send rock chips and droplets of blood flying. ¡°Chunk do anything! Chunk love job! Chunk love smash humans! Chunk not want Boss to fire Chunk!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Abyss, this is too easy, she thought. ¡°Anything! Chunk beg!¡± ¡°Well, I suppose I could do this assignment for you as a favor, I mean, since we¡¯re such good friends and all¡­¡± Morphiest had only ever been in the same room as Chunk twice, and passed him on the streets of Deep Town once. This was, in fact, the first time she¡¯d ever spoken to the easily misled brute. However, her over the top acting was really doing a number on the simple Chunk, so she just couldn¡¯t resist hamming it up even more. ¡°But this is really straining the limits of generosity, Chunk. You¡¯d owe me. A lot.¡± Tears of relief streamed down the ogre¡¯s craggy face. ¡°Chunk be slave when not work. Chunk do anything to keep job!¡± ¡°Alright, but this is a really big deal. It¡¯s going to take a long time to repay me, you know.¡± Morphiest withheld a chuckle as the ogre prostrated himself once more, thanking her profusely. This was for the best, really. Anything to be closer to the Overlord of Incomparable Infernos.
Stefano Mayers blanched as his subordinate brought him the news. ¡°Counterfeits? Already? You¡¯re sure.¡± The aide nodded. ¡°Yes, Mr. Mayers, three counterfeits have connected to the Ciro Server. It¡¯s¡­ well, it¡¯s worse than just that. As soon as the alerts triggered, we pulled up the account information and all support tickets related to the copied crystal ¡ª he didn¡¯t change the connection identifier at all, so it was easy enough to find.¡± ¡°He? So we already know who is behind this? Then why aren¡¯t we just sending a contract over to the Quiet Hand? Let them do what they do best?¡± ¡°Well, sir, that¡¯s the thing. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s enough gold in the world to pay the Quiet Hand to take this contract. According to the account information, the owner is a dragon. One Kragathor Tenset Malevolous. The support ticket created during his first login supports that. He triggered an error and an automatic support ticket for exceeding player mesh file size ¡ª the mesh that¡¯s used to give them a familiar body during character creation ¡ª and identified himself to the support agent, one Oren Steelshod, as a 2900 foot ancient dragon. Further, the connection traces to coordinates a few miles under the Austland city of Millen, which is where Deep Thousand is located. The account was logged in for about six hours earlier this afternoon, and the counterfeits connected to the server about thirty minutes after the account logged off. Aside from that, further scrying and divinations turn up a total blank.¡± Stefano remained silent for several moments, digesting the information he¡¯d just received. This was bad. Very bad. Maybe even catastrophically so. ¡°And why am I just hearing about this now, rather than when that first support ticket was submitted?¡± ¡°Uh, his direct supervisor, who received the escalation with requests for more generous compensation had the employee put on leave, pending testing for Pixie Dust abuse.¡± ¡°Ugh. And the developer ticket?¡± ¡°Well, they¡¯ve got a huge backlog, and even high priority tickets are taking a full day or more to get around to addressing. And the support agent¡¯s supervisor lowered the priority of the developer ticket from high to normal¡­¡± Stefano rested his head in his hands, squeezed his eyes shut tight and rubbed his temples with his thumbs. ¡°I want that supervisor gone. Now. He may have killed us all. Get that original support agent ¡ªSteelshod¡ª back, and grill him for everything. I want to know every nuance of that conversation. Actually, get his consent for a Memory Play, if you can. Feel free to ply him with bonuses to his salary or even a promotion. Abyss, get him a gaggle of whores if you need to. Dwarves love to carouse, don¡¯t they?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. Should I arrange a meeting between the supervisor and the Quiet Hand?¡± ¡°Hmm, not yet. Just put a contingency contract out. If we all die, its only fitting he goes with us, right?¡± ¡°Certainly, sir.¡± ¡°Call a board meeting. I¡¯m going to need the rest of the team in on this. Do we have any information on his avatar, at least?¡± ¡°No, sir. The original privacy directives established by the board only allow us to monitor the account itself, and not its activities once manifested in the Otherworld. Our abilities to directly contact or monitor the end user are accordingly rather limited at this time. I already consulted with Wizzlefidget from DevOps, she says they would have to bring the server down for days to rework it enchantments to allow anything close to that. While keeping it up? Maybe a week and we¡¯ll be able to intercept a login with a support ticket.¡± ¡°Double damned abyss. Right, hire some investigators and historians to dig into this, and to find any information we have on that name, Craggy-Sore-whatever, and any connections it has to Deep Thousand. If this is truly legitimate, we need a way to contact him and placate him.¡± ¡°Right away, sir.¡± As the aide left the room, Stefano reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of 21 year old Forge Starter Single Malt. A few moments after pouring in a single finger of the amber liquid, he added a second, then a third. He raised the glass to the painting of his late brother that adorned his office wall and drank the fiery liquid in a single, heroic gulp. ¡°It had to be a fucking dragon. Fucking abyss,¡± he muttered. Chapter Twelve Bob walked through the tunnels alongside his unofficial request client, Vince, half-listening as the man continued to talk about all manners of unrelated subjects while he kept his eye out for mutants and rogue drones. They¡¯d only run into a couple of mutant rats so far, which Bob had dispatched with a few rifle shots. ¡°You know, I heard that the Yellow Tunnels have been seeing a lot more mutant rodent and rogue drone swarms lately. Some of my pals been telling me that a lot more of you Screener types have been getting sent down here, and not many of ¡®em have been coming back up through the exits, if you catch my drift.¡± Bob nodded. ¡°That sounds about right. I was down here yesterday with some companions and we ran into a large mob of mutant rats, then had to fight a swarm of rogue drones with a drone mother. It paid for some equipment upgrades for me.¡± ¡°A drone mother? You¡¯re not shitting me are ya? Well, damn. That would at least explain the drones being everywhere. Hah, the blazes were they thinking, unleashing tens of thousands of autonomous ¡®pest control¡¯ drones into the tunnels? Madness, I tell you. I¡¯ve got my suspicions about their reasonings and who is the real driving force behind all of this,¡± Vince waved his hands expressively, causing the heavy satchel hanging from his shoulder to swing about. Bob simply nodded and continued walking. He¡¯d quickly learned that the easiest way to deal with this man was to just nod at opportune times, and only occasionally offer relevant words. The man did seem to love to hear his own voice. As Vince segued off into how it was all a corporate conspiracy by the Big Six to seize further control of Servo City and further corrupt its free market with their corporate stranglehold, Bob tuned him out and checked his messages once more to see if FarShot and ShadowRunner had messaged him, or the new Medic and Bulwark. Predictably, no messages had come in, as he had not received the notification noise that accompanied an incoming message. Bob heard the distinct whining buzz of a drone ahead and hushed the talkative man. He shouldered his rifle and rounded the corner of a side corridor where a medium sized drone hovered over a sleeping mutant rat. A small mechanical arm was extended from the drone and seemed to be withdrawing fluid from the beast through a needle. Without hesitation, Bob shot down the drone ¡ª managing to hit it on his second shot. He then approached and killed the comatose rodent. He looted the drone¡¯s parts but left behind the loot from the rat. He didn¡¯t think he would need Mutant Rat Hide, Mutant Rat Cerebrospinal Fluid, or Mutant Rat Gall Bladder. He was absolutely certain that he didn¡¯t need Mutant Rat Genetic Material. Bob walked to Vince. ¡°Some weird drone was sucking fluids out of a mutant rat. Shot them both.¡± ¡°I knew it! It¡¯s more proof that the Big Six are releasing their gene spliced abominations into the tunnels and running experiments on them with their ¡®rogue¡¯ drones.¡± Vince accompanied the word ¡®rogue¡¯ with air quotes, something he did frequently. He¡¯d even helpfully explained it was meant to emphasize sarcasm and disbelief when Bob had asked him what the gesture meant. ¡°Did you know that they put fluoride in our water? I read on the networks that fluoride is used as a mood stabilizer. They want us to be docile little sheep for them!¡± Vince continued to rant about conspiracies, while Bob nodded at every pause, with an occasional ¡°I see¡± or ¡°That makes so much sense¡± thrown in for good measure. Some thirty minutes after entering the tunnels, they finally reached their destination, a side tunnel that dead-ended after a hundred or so feet. At the end of the tunnel was a large metal box embedded in the wall. ¡°Right, I¡¯m going to be needing to work on this for a while, probably. Hopefully not more than thirty minutes to an hour.¡± Bob tossed out a wall in the center of the corridor, right in front of the box, and positioned a turret on either side, both using buckshot mode. ¡°Sweet free market, those things are cool. Before you Screeners came, they used to cost thousands of credits each. But you Screeners with your fancy Auger tech and dimensional storage really shook up the Big Six¡¯s stranglehold on the patents.¡± Vince opened a panel in the front of the box to reveal a tangled mess of wires, circuit boards and conduits. ¡°Ugh, whoever did this last, I¡¯m gonna shove a work boot right up their ass. This might take me a while to untangle. You know much about electronics, Bob?¡± Bob shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m learning as I go. I¡¯ve been looking up a lot of information, but I am missing a lot of the background information to put it into context.¡± Vince shook his head and talked while he began the laborious process of tidying the mess of wires. ¡°Man, I really don¡¯t understand you Screeners. I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re all like that. What kind of place do you live in when you¡¯re not Traveling here?¡± Bob shrugged. ¡°A dungeon.¡± ¡°Wait, you guys are prisoners?!¡± ¡°Sorry, I think there was a translation error. I live in an underground complex.¡± ¡°Huh. And what do you do there?¡± Bob paused and thought of the best way to put his daily life in human terms. ¡°Administration, mostly. I¡¯m the Boss down there.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Okay, so you¡¯re upper management, maybe something like a CEO? I see. That actually makes a lot of sense, you¡¯ve got a very¡­ old and in-charge attitude about you, though you seem to be working to avoid letting it show too much. So, acting as a Screener is your way of getting away from it all for a bit, right? Makes sense that you wouldn¡¯t be up on tech training then. You¡¯ve got people to do that for you. You guys probably have pretty specialized education, I¡¯d bet.¡± Bob was surprised. This NPC was rather perceptive, even if he was still drawing the wrong conclusions entirely. Still, it was good practice for shoring up his makeshift human persona. He continued to be surprised by the realism of this Otherworld. ¡°You know, a lot of my like-minded buddies have a lot of theories about you Screeners. But there is so little to go on outside the official information, which in itself is a total fucking joke. It doesn¡¯t help that you guys always speak funny when you¡¯re not talking directly to one of us normal folk. Really makes it hard to eavesdrop, ya know? Hell, this one guy I know, he claims to be some kind of cryptolinguist or some such, he says that he¡¯s recorded samples of a half dozen distinctly different languages from you guys, but you all seem to understand each other perfectly even when speaking in different languages. ¡°But the most popular theory is that you guys have some kind of passive communication encryption. Some guys are saying even the Big Six and the government are stumped by it. The government I¡¯d buy, they¡¯re about as useful as my nipples, but the Big Six? Come on, they¡¯ve got quadrillions of credits and the best tech to throw around.¡± Vince shook his head, continuing to sort out the wires. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you could clear any of that up?¡± Bob thought for a moment. ¡°The first person you mentioned is probably correct. There is an automatic translation function built in which has almost all known extant languages in it. It probably automatically adjusts when we speak to one of you but has no need to do so when we speak to each other.¡± ¡°Huh, wild. That¡¯s some pretty radical tech, but¡­ kind of tame compared to some of your guys¡¯ other stuff. All right. Wires are all sorted out now, time to do my actual work.¡± Vince went quiet, as he began to focus on his task, withdrawing various devices from his satchel and using them to test individual components. A couple of rogue drones floated into the corridor while this was going on but were quickly shot down by the turrets. Bob contented himself with watching Vince work. He¡¯d know if there was trouble if the turrets fired more than one or two shots. While Vince was testing and replacing components, Bob heard the click-clacking noise that signified a message being received. To: From: Subject: Special Assignment Hi Bob! This is Buzzwhistle Blackgear, reporting as ordered for special assignment by the Crimson Tyrant. I am with Chunk, whose comm ID is Chunk-7645-543. We have, as ordered, selected our first classes as Medic and Bulwark, and are ready to do our first three requests. I have also, as was suggested, spent time in the combat simulator trying all the different weapon classes until I reached skill level 1 with each category. I purchased a shotgun, armor, ammo, and additional medical supplies with my initial supply of funds. Chunk bought armor, a shotgun, and something called an electro-club. I was initially worried about Chunk¡¯s intelligence, but she is smarter than she sounds. We will await rendezvous at the Player Arrival Area. Blessings of the Wise Lord of the Deep be upon you, Buzz Bob sighed with relief. At least he had confirmation now that his minions had successfully entered the game. While he had been quite certain as to the accuracy of his work, he¡¯d had the tiniest doubt that his copies might not be able to connect. *THUNK*THUNK* *THUNK*THUNK* The two turrets began firing at a steady pace, a fraction of a second delay between the two firing. Bob looked toward the entrance of the corridor, where a swarm of mutant rats was racing towards them. Shouldering his rifle, Bob began to pick them off as the turrets steadily thinned their numbers. < Morphiest, in the guise of Chunk, was on the verge of shivering with excitement. To be able to fight alongside the Exalted Master, even if it was not in his glorious true form, was practically a dream come true. And she would only have to split his attention with the gnome! Ah, she felt as if she could just squeal in excitement at the prospect. She had taken to walking behind the gnome and the object of her undying loyalty and desire. While she felt she had a fair handle on imitating Chunk¡¯s limited intellectual capacity ¡ªwith some fun modifications¡ª working directly with the Devourer of Nations strained her composure. Buzz clearly had no idea who Bob really was, or he would not be acting quite so carefree. She was rather wary of Buzz. Certainly, he seemed amiable enough. He acted kind and engaging and was all smiles and warm fuzzy feelings. But he could not fool her. She was a Doppelganger. She could spot the gaps in a facade like his from a mile away. She wasn¡¯t sure what he was hiding, and, frankly, she didn¡¯t care. She just didn¡¯t trust the runt not to fuck this up and ruin her time to make a good impression for when it would inevitably be revealed that she had been playing as Chunk all along.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Maybe she could have another of the Gang quietly replace him? But would they be able to seamlessly take his place in Ciro? Better to play it cautiously, for now. As they walked, she was gradually gaining control of her excitement, and mastering her expressions. Then they showed up. Bob stopped walking for a moment, looking at something nobody else could see, then resumed their journey after a momentary delay. When they arrived at the request board, two tall avatars stood there, one male and one female, waiting for them. ¡°FarShot, ShadowRunner, these are a couple of my acquaintances, Buzzted and Chunk.¡± ¡°You can call me Buzz,¡± the gnome¡¯s avatar piped up, moving to shake hands with both. ¡°Chunk happy to meet you!¡± The strain of the false cheer in her voice went undetected. Bob continued talking. ¡°Chunk is a Bulwark. She will be our front-line fighter. Don¡¯t let her way of talking fool you, she¡¯ll be smashing our foes into paste if they get too close. Buzz here is our Medic. He¡¯ll be setting you right if you pull any more dumb stunts, ShadowRunner.¡± The male of the new pair rubbed the back of his head and averted his gaze sheepishly, while the female elbowed him in the side and chuckled. Bob continued with the introductions, gesturing to the two newcomers. ¡°FarShot here has the Marksman class, which means she¡¯s our primary ranged damage dealer, especially at longer ranges. ShadowRunner is a CyberRogue, so he¡¯ll be our stealthy support, and do some stuff with enemy electronics that I¡¯m still working on trying to figure out.¡± ShadowRunner spoke up, ¡°You know, just call me Shadow. It¡¯ll be easier. I did some research in the WIK this morning, trying to figure my class out, and it seems that a lot of my abilities center around hampering electronics and communications, and at later levels, even taking control of them.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what that means, but it sounds useful,¡± Buzz helpfully added. Chunk resisted rolling her eyes. ¡°Right, here are the requests we loaded up on. You two should pick them up too then we¡¯ll go get them all knocked out.¡± ¡°Ah, but we need to turn in our quest for the three requests from yesterday,¡± FarShot protested. ¡°Ah, it¡¯ll be fine. After that they want you to visit the crafting center, then it¡¯s just an open ended ¡®Reach Level 10¡¯ quest. Might as well just do that all later while we run these two through the first bits.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± ShadowRunner said. ¡°So, Bob, what kind of neat things can your friends there do?¡± FarShot asked. Chunk wanted to throttle the woman for the familiarity with which she addressed a supreme being such as he but restrained herself. ¡°Ah, maybe they should explain,¡± he said, deftly deflecting the question to his subordinates. Buzz spoke first. ¡°My equipment lets me monitor the vitals of anyone nearby and alerts me of any major loss of health on those marked as friendlies. I have injectors I can use for healing mid-battle which are little more than pain suppressants, as well as medical supplies outside of combat that allow me to reduce the severity of injuries and accelerate healing.¡± ¡°Chunk have armor and shield. Armor make Chunk stronger. Shield gets bigger.¡± She demonstrated by deploying the shield, which was three thick composite panels stacked on top of each other. The panels slid out and locked together, forming a tower shield. She then retracted the shield. ¡°Chunk can smash with sparky stick or smash with boomy stick.¡± She paused to scratch her chin a moment, pretending to think about it. ¡°Chunk can also smash with shield.¡±
Buzz very much disliked Chunk. His voice¡­ her voice¡­ its¡­ Whatever, Chunk¡¯s voice was terrible. It sounded like two wounded hogs hate fucking each other in a pit of gravel. Not beautiful in the least. This newcomer, though, FarShot? Her voice was musical. However, Buzz knew that she was off limits. Orders from above. Bob seemed a pleasant sort. Buzz was happy to work with someone so highly placed within the hierarchy of Deep Thousand. Perhaps he should invite him to share a fizzy cider some day at 300 Deep. It¡¯s always good to make friends, after all. It was too early to tell with this Shadow fellow, though he seemed affable enough. Humans couldn¡¯t generally tell the difference between a typical gnome and a dark gnome. Buzz didn¡¯t blame them, though. Humans just aren¡¯t that bright. The group was walking along the city streets, heading toward one of the entrances to the Yellow Tunnels. Chunk was Chunking along behind the rest of the group, while Bob was telling the two humans about what he did after they had logged off the previous day. All in all, it was rather pleasant. Buzz patted his new weapon affectionately. He had spent a couple of hours in the combat simulator, trying out the various types of weapons. The only one that really came naturally to him was the shotgun. Buzz knew he wasn¡¯t much of a warrior, and that his hand-eye coordination was mediocre at best. However, that didn¡¯t matter when your weapon sprayed out hot metal shards in a cone and could fire twice a second. He¡¯d dropped a significant chunk of his starting credits on getting the shotgun with a drum magazine, exactly like the one he¡¯d tested in the simulator. Chunk had also bought a shotgun, but it was a short two barreled affair that had to be manually reloaded every other shot. ¡°So, Buzz, what do you do for a living?¡± Shadow asked. ¡°Alchemy, with a focus on healing,¡± he answered, not even needing to lie. ¡°Most of my consultations tend to be related to sexual health, though. You have no idea how many patients alchemists like me get that are asking for specially tuned stamina potions. That, together with salves for rashes, make up like four out of five patients I get. It¡¯s not a glorious job, but spell casters with the ability to heal others are simply too busy to deal with some things. We free them up to focus on the more important cases.¡± FarShot and ShadowRunner shifted uncomfortably at the deluge of totally unwanted information. ¡°How about you two?¡± Buzz asked cheerily. ¡°Eh, we¡¯re part of a Merchant Noble House. We don¡¯t really do much of anything. Our family would never allow it,¡± Shadow said bitterly. The conversation died as the group passed through the locks and into the Yellow Tunnels. Buzz stared in awe at the heavy steel doors and their locking mechanisms. His inner gnome was salivating at the chance to tear one apart. Buzz pushed down his curiosity and forced himself to be more alert as they descended into the surprisingly well-lit tunnels. Chapter Fourteen ShadowRunner led the way, scouting ahead while the other four walked in a tight group. ¡°You know, when I heard we were going to be venturing into tunnels under the city¡­ This wasn¡¯t quite what I imagined,¡± said Buzz. ¡°I was picturing pitch-black tunnels, old and decaying stonework, flooding and probably some undead. Definitely not¡­ this. It¡¯s so well lit, and although the floor¡¯s a bit messy, the construction and the walls are so clean and solid. I bet that images of this place could keep a dwarf from seeking my services for years.¡± FarShot shuddered at the mental image. ¡°The architecture and engineering that went into this place certainly are advanced. There¡¯s a lot more to this world than the eye beholds. Their technology and science are rather interesting, and obviously quite advanced. I wonder just how the creators of the Virmo managed to come up with all of this.¡± Bob mused. His words were met with silence. ShadowRunner ducked back toward the group. ¡°Ten drones in that corridor up ahead, digging at the wall.¡± ¡°Chunk, shield up and pop around the corner. Buzz, shoot them down from behind Chunk¡¯s shield.¡± The two minions moved to follow Bob¡¯s instructions. Chunk¡¯s tower shield blocked most of the corridor, while Buzz started firing wildly at the tightly clustered drones. Even with his less than stellar skills, the drones went down fast in a spray of metal and plastic fragments. Moments later, the drones were eliminated. ¡°Buzz, go touch part of the drone remains. It should give you a looting prompt. Accept the prompt, and it should divide it amongst the group.¡± Buzz did as he was ordered, and everyone received a handful of Drone Components. ¡°Well, that was easy,¡± Buzz said in a light-hearted tone. ¡°Well, yeah, there were only ten, and they were all pretty small.¡± FarShot said, a little cattily. ¡°When we came in here with Bob yesterday, we ran into a swarm of thirty or so accompanied by a drone mother. There were drones as big as your torso there, and the drone mother was the size of a wagon bed. It had a gun that punched through Bob¡¯s shields.¡± Buzz shrugged and smiled. ¡°That sounds fascinating. Just the small glimpse I had of them has me really interested in how they¡¯re made. I would love to take some apart¡­¡± FarShot and ShadowRunner exchanged a knowing glance. The sister spoke up. ¡°You¡¯re a gnome, aren¡¯t you?¡± Buzz chuckled sheepishly. ¡°That obvious, huh? Yeah, I¡¯m an alchemist by trade, but complex mechanisms get my mental gears spinning. Can¡¯t really escape the racial obsession.¡± The siblings chuckled a bit at that. The walk through the tunnels was eventful. The group ran into numerous packs of mutant rats, and a swarm of mutant roaches that nearly overwhelmed them with sheer volume. Surprisingly, Buzz accepted all the harvested parts from the mutants, saying he could use it to work up his crafting skill, Synthesis. The shotguns used by the two new members of the group were invaluable in dealing with the swarms, along with Bob¡¯s turrets. During that time, the other four each leveled up. Buzz and Chunk chose their first abilities. Chunk chose one that eked an extra point of strength out of the armor¡¯s mechanical enhancements. Buzz chose one that benefited his Synthesis skill, reducing synthesis time by 20% when using a Field Synthesis Kit. ¡°It will come in handy once we start dealing with things that use poisons or spread sickness,¡± he¡¯d promised. Drone presence was rather sparse this time and they only ran into a few small groupings, barely enough for them all to get the minimum needed for turning in the bounty. After a long walk through the tunnels, they finally neared the site of the obstruction. The tunnel ahead was coated with a hard, bluish-green material that was riddled with openings, and the air stank like vomit and strong vinegar. ¡°Well, this doesn¡¯t look ominous at all,¡± said ShadowRunner. ¡°Chunk disagree. Chunk think it look very ominous.¡± ¡°I stand corrected. On second thought, it does look rather ominous after all. Good catch, Chunk.¡± Chunk replied by nodding sagely. ¡°So, any idea what this crap is?¡± FarShot asked, poking one of the walls.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°No clue,¡± Bob said. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just try setting it on fire?¡± After a few moments of murmured conference, the others agreed. However, Bob had forgotten that he no longer had fire at his beck and call, only a breath away. Luckily, ShadowRunner had an appropriate solution. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t really want to use it before, but I have this thing called a ¡®thermite grenade¡¯ that is supposed to make a super-hot fire. I kind of bought it on a whim, and there hasn¡¯t really been a good time to use it¡­¡± ShadowRunner said, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°You probably could have used it on the mother drone instead of jumping on it,¡± said Bob. ¡°Yeah, I didn¡¯t think about that until after I¡¯d logged off¡­¡± ShadowRunner said as he kicked the tunnel floor sheepishly. ¡°Well, I suppose that will work. Well, what are you waiting for?¡± ShadowRunner withdrew a small cylinder from his inventory that had an odd handle on it, then withdrew a metal pin from the hinge where the handle connected, causing it to come off. Then he tossed the cylinder into one of the holes that covered the walls. ¡°We should probably step back, just in case this stuff is flammable,¡± ShadowRunner said. The group did as he suggested. Moments later a bright light erupted from the hole he¡¯d thrown the thermite grenade into, and a wave of heat washed over the party. Then the weird material covering the tunnel walls ignited in a rather spectacular fashion. Bob and the others retreated from the sudden and fierce inferno. The flames gave off an eerie greenish light as they devoured the material, and produced a thick, white smoke which was sucked away into vents in the ceiling that none of the group had taken notice of before. Bob could have sworn he heard hissing and screaming coming from the holes, even over the roar of the viridian-hued flames. For nearly an hour they stood and watched as the blazing inferno faded, leaving behind ash, soot-stained concrete, and ragged holes in the walls which still glowed from the heat of the fires burning deep within. As the fire finally died down, they all received the quest update notification. ¡°You know, I was really expecting something more epic there,¡± FarShot commented. ¡°I agree,¡± said Buzz. Chunk just nodded in agreement.
Stefano took his place at the head of the table. ¡°Alright, so tell me what we¡¯ve got so far.¡± Randell Leaflight, the Vice Minister of public relations stood up. ¡°I¡¯ve taken charge of the investigations into this alleged ancient dragon. So far, the research has proven inconclusive, aside from an old passage from nearly six hundred years ago, referencing a party who made it to the thousandth floor of Deep Thousand, and claimed to meet with an ancient dragon who resided there, whom they called the Crimson Terror. All members of the party refused to speak of what had happened, though it was noted that they returned with powerful artifact-level equipment. Which, assuming the passage is real, means they clearly defeated the thing, even if they resorted to some kind of underhanded methods which they weren¡¯t proud of. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re taking this so seriously. There is no evidence that any dragon older than a few centuries even remains in this world. The Age of Heroes wiped out all the Ancients.¡± The half-elven man sat back down, looking smug. Levercog Wizzlefidget, Vice Minister of Development and Operations, stood up on the seat of her chair. ¡°I¡¯ve been tracking all the details of the original crystal. It was purchased in Millen, along with one of each of the other available options, paid for in coin. The purchase was timestamped as roughly an hour before the account¡¯s first login. The first counterfeit connected within fifteen minutes of that first session¡¯s log out, and the subsequent counterfeits connected at five minute delays after that. Two of those three counterfeits have since created accounts. One account holder claims to be a gnome, while the other claims to be an ogre.¡± This last bit of information caused stirring and murmuring. Wizzlefidget continued speaking, ¡°It normally takes us three days to imprint a crystal with the enchantments. As you all well know, our process simply allows us to do large batches at once. The copied crystal was in the possession of its current owner for no more than seven and a half hours before the first counterfeit came online. Based on the time of log out, and the amount of time before the subsequent copies came online, they may have completely copied the first one in as little as five to fifteen minutes. That speaks of vast magical power with incredibly precise control. Even if it isn¡¯t an ancient dragon, whoever did this is so incomprehensibly powerful as a mage that they might as well be considered on the same level.¡± As Wizzlefidget continued speaking, the smugness on Leaflight¡¯s features deflated. The sole Scaled One at the table stood up, Bloodied Talon, the Vice Minister of Investor Relations. ¡°I have made overtures with my clan of birth to arrange an audience with our Grand Patriarch, Filauos Goramen Infernus. As some of you may already know, he is the oldest confirmed dragon on all nine continents and the progenitor of all the Scaled Kin. He is our keeper of Draconic Lore and may be able to shed some light on these investigations. I only need approval to provide the traditional tribute which will be six hundred pounds of gold and twelve hundred pounds of silver.¡± Stefano steepled his fingers. ¡°Approved. Keep us updated on how it goes.¡± Leaflight scowled. ¡°That is a lot of coin to throw away on some wild fantasy.¡± Stefano waved a hand dismissively at the half-elf. ¡°Shut up, Randy.¡± Leaflight¡¯s scowl deepened, but Stefano continued without paying him any attention. ¡°Talon, do you have the time to take over the investigations?¡± The lizard-like man bowed his scaly head. ¡°Indeed. The investors are rather happy at the moment, as sales continue to grow according to projections.¡± ¡°Your help, as always, is most appreciated, Talon. How about the support agent who spoke with the account holder, have we got a hold on him yet?¡± Stefano turned his attention to his aide. The aide stepped forward from where he stood against the wall. ¡°We have him in negotiations with Personnel Management at this very moment, trying to secure permission for a Memory Play. It took us some time to coax him out of his house. He¡¯d barricaded himself in there once his supervisor dismissed his claims as frivolous and put him on leave.¡± ¡°Well, if he feared angering an ancient dragon, I can hardly fault the poor bastard. Notify me as soon as its available. Anyone else have anything to add?¡± After a few moments of silence, Stefano dismissed the meeting, and the participants went their separate ways. Chapter Fifteen An hour after finishing the request to clear the obstruction, Bob and company were back on the surface, turning in their requests at the board. Everyone in the group received a level from the experience bonus for turning in the requests. Bob tossed his new skill point into Power Management, bringing its level to three. The bonus gave him just enough room to be able to deploy two shields and two turrets at the same time, barring any equipment upgrades that increased power consumption. Bob had gotten another 180 credits for completing the two quests, so now he was looking forward to purchasing upgrades. That notion got Bob to pause for a moment. He was looking forward to spending gold, even if it wasn¡¯t really gold? Well, he was trading an immaterial resource for objects of worth. So, in a way, he was still staying true to his draconic hoarding instincts. It also meshed well with what he knew about humans; their lives were so frightfully short that there was no real purpose to hoarding wealth and not spending it, though some did try that anyways. Only a few of the humanoid races lived much longer than a century, and even then, their lifespans were only a paltry few times longer than their more ephemeral cousins. ¡°Um, Bob? You still with us?¡± Buzz asked, breaking Bob out of his contemplation. He¡¯d stopped walking while considering the mortal races¡¯ short lives. ¡°Hmm? I was just a bit lost in thought.¡± He rejoined the group as they trooped back to the Player Arrival Area. The four members of the group turned in their quest, which was a bit odd to watch from the outside. The quest NPC did not appear to actually be doing anything while the players interacted with it. Having received their next quest, the group headed to the Player Creation Center. ¡°Man, the names of these places sure are a mouthful,¡± ShadowRunner complained. ¡°Couldn¡¯t they have come up with something a bit easier to say?¡± ¡°I agree, Shadow. Compared to everything else here, those names just feel lazy and uninspired. Really utilitarian, compared to the rather fantastical nature of this world they¡¯ve created,¡± Buzz mused. ¡°Though I suppose even the best artists can run out of cleverness, at times.¡± ¡°Screw it, I¡¯m just going to call them PA and PC from now on. Anything else with a stupid name like that is gonna get the same treatment,¡± ShadowRunner said. ¡°Eh, I suppose that works,¡± FarShot agreed. ¡°Well, it certainly is more efficient,¡± Buzz said. The group fell quiet for a moment after that. Bob decided to fill the silence by telling them of what he¡¯d seen the previous night. ¡°If you haven¡¯t seen this area at night yet, I suggest you do so at some point. It really becomes quite the sight. When I was handing in quests last night, this area was teeming with NPCs. All the signage lights up, and it is all rather colorful. Rather messy too, but it appears to have been cleaned right up since then. They had these glowing containers that they¡¯d drink from, then toss on the ground when it was empty.¡± ¡°Huh, that sounds¡­ neat? I suppose that¡¯d be worth coming to see,¡± said FarShot. ¡°Yeah, maybe we can log in after dinner to check it out. Thanks for the suggestion, Bob,¡± said ShadowRunner. ¡°No problem, Shadow. I¡¯m kind of curious to explore the rest of this city, as well as others. It really is nothing like I expected. I¡¯d really love to get a closer look at those towers, too.¡± ¡°Chunk like city. Chunk want explore too.¡± ¡°Okay then. How about you, Buzz?¡± ¡°It really does sound great, but my favorite singer is performing at 300 D¡­ my local tavern, tonight. I never miss her performances.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Chunk snorted, which made Buzz flinch. ¡°Well, there¡¯s always next time,¡± said Bob. When the group reached the crafting building, Bob left them behind to head into the Electromechanical section. He chose a workbench and promptly recycled the drone parts. No repairs were needed, and he was still lacking schemata to build his own devices, for now. A few minutes later, everyone but Buzz had joined him in the room. Having done what he needed to do for the time being, Bob returned to the entryway, and waited on the others to rejoin him.
¡°Thank you for agreeing to meet with my humble self, Grand Patriarch.¡± Bloodied Talon bowed low. He had never imagined that he would have an audience with the Grand Patriarch, especially after he had left the clan to work in the world of the Soft Skins. He kept peeking at the glorious, azure-scaled form. Filauos Goramen Infernus was two hundred feet of sinuous muscle, razor sharp claws and fangs the size of a man¡¯s torso. ¡°Rise, child. I am always available to the Descendants of Scale and Fang. Your gift has pleased me, Bloodied Talon. Not many of your Kin are quite as thoughtful. So, for what purpose have you sought my company?¡± The Great Dragon Elder¡¯s voice rumbled through Talon¡¯s chest. It took a few moments for him to reign in his awe at speaking with his living ancestor, the progenitor of his race. ¡°I come seeking information, draconic lore. Your august self is the foremost expert, after all.¡± A chuckle rumbled through the room, resonating through Talon¡¯s body. ¡°Hah, you certainly do work with the Soft Skins. None but they have such skills in flattery. Well? Out with it. I may have all the time in the world, but you do not.¡± Talon ducked his head. ¡°I come seeking information about a particular dragon. One that I believe may be somewhere in the Soft Skin land of Austland. His name is Kragathor Tenset Malevolous.¡± The slight echoes of the Grand Patriarch¡¯s earlier laughter suddenly stilled. Were it physically possible, Talon would have insisted that his sky-blue scales had become a shade lighter. The earlier composure and calm of the ancient reptile had vanished. ¡°Kragathor¡­ lives?¡± ¡°You know who that is? Have you met him?¡± ¡°Are you daft? He disappeared millennia ago. They thought he¡¯d finally grown tired of life and crawled in a hole somewhere to end it. He¡¯s¡­¡± The Grand Patriarch floundered for words. ¡°There are maybe two bloodlines left that can¡¯t be traced back to him and they live on that icy southern continent. Terrible place to live. You¡¯re certain of the name? Absolutely certain?¡± ¡°I¡­ Yes. I am certain. How bad is it, Grand Patriarch?¡± The giant blue dragon laughed a bit too hard at this, the sound waves threatening to physically bowl Talon over. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you got his attention, boy, but you are in over MY head. Ha! How bad is it, indeed!¡± The dragon patriarch laughed again, only calming a few minutes later. ¡°So how big is he now, do you know?¡± Talon swallowed the lump forming in his throat. ¡°More than a half mile.¡± The next laughing fit was far more violent, and more akin to a howl than a laugh. Dust rained down from the ceiling of the mountaintop temple. After some time, Filauos regained his composure. ¡°Do you know what the mortals of old called him? Sin Overwhelming. They considered him the overwhelming embodiment of what the mortal religions at the time were parading around as ¡®the mortal sins.¡¯ Pride, Wrath, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, and Greed. Abyss, the stories say that when he heard of that, his laughter created the Chasms of Udren. He was the Shadow of Destruction, the Incarnation of Might, the Indolent Tyrant, the Tide of Blood, the Blight of Anfyr, the Downfall of Goraz¡¯thun, the Ender of Nations, the Personification of Genocide, the Crimson End, the Sire of a Thousand Broods, and the Utmost Existence.¡± As he listed each title his voice rose in timbre and volume and spilled out with ever greater speed. ¡°The sheer number of titles he earned defies memorization. He is THE legend of our kind, the Terror in the Night we threaten our misbehaving whelps with and the pinnacle far beyond what any of us could hope to achieve. None dare speak, much less take his name out of fear of drawing the ire of his shade. And you say he yet lives? You could flee to the moon and still not escape his grasp.¡± Talon stared numbly at the floor. He was having trouble processing this rather unsettling turn of events. The Grand Patriarch¡¯s rather passionate extolling of Kragathor¡¯s inviolable power had shaken him to his very core. Until now, Filauos had been the single most powerful entity that he had known. To imagine something beyond that was nigh on unfathomable. Talon had desperately hoped the information was incorrect. To have it confirmed for him so¡­ enthusiastically? It was seriously disheartening. ¡°I¡­ I thank you for your gift of wisdom, Grand Patriarch.¡± Talon bowed low. ¡°Hah! If you don¡¯t die, come back and tell me what happens. Abyss, I¡¯d love to meet the Inferno of Obliteration, if you can arrange it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± he managed to reply. He turned and walked away, feeling like a lost hatchling that had strayed too far from the nests and into the forest filled with things ready to gobble him up. Chapter Sixteen After everyone had finished up at the crafting building, the group returned to finish their quest, and finally ended up on the same ¡®Reach Level 10¡¯ quest that Bob was on. FarShot and ShadowRunner then had to log off, citing a need to go to dinner. Buzz followed, wanting to be ready in time for the show at his local tavern. ¡°Hmm, well, we could handle more requests, or we can explore the city. What do you say, Chunk?¡± Bob asked. ¡°Chunk want explore. Chunk like pretty city.¡± While neither option actually appealed to her at a base level, since she was accompanying His Mercilessness, she would prefer the one that would allow her to get to know the Most Supreme a bit more. She just wished she wasn¡¯t stuck impersonating a dimwit ogre. She followed Bob through the streets as they wound their way toward a tall cluster of buildings that towered over their surroundings. Their sides reflected the red sky of the early evening. She could see the avarice in Bob¡¯s eyes as he gazed at their glittering facades. ¡°So, did you even try to give the real Chunk the mission?¡± She froze. She hadn¡¯t been expecting this so soon. Though, she chided herself, I should know better to underestimate the Devourer of Knowledge. ¡°This one did, Your Highest Magnificence. However, it seems he misrepresented his ability to read in his personnel file. The poor thing practically begged this one to take his place when he understood that he would be unable to fulfill his orders. May this one ask what gave it away?¡± ¡°When you are in here, you will only address me as Bob. And drop that ¡®this one¡¯ nonsense. Always act the part when logged in. The first hint was the shotgun. Ogres are notorious for their cultural disdain of ranged weapons. Their large hands and poor fine motor control make them terrible shots, and even worse craftsmen. You went right up to that workbench without hesitation. Traditionally, ogres have seen crafting as a job for slaves, something they would never engage in. Even now, I have no ogres in my employ that willingly engage in craft-work. They don¡¯t generally like any jobs that doesn¡¯t involve smashing things.¡± ¡°Yes, Your¡­ Bob. May I ask then, are any ogres able to read?¡± ¡°Potential ogre magi are taught to read. They¡¯re revered in ogre culture as their spells are known for being capable of smashing many things at once. Really, the only reason I know so much about their culture is because their spell books are as much diary and history as arcane theory. Also, there was a very rare ogre author some millennia back who wrote a fascinating treatise called ¡®How Much Smash is Too Much Smash? No Such Thing.¡¯ It was a surprisingly coherent documentation of ogre culture, with a deep undercurrent of humor.¡± She was stunned by the deluge of information. She prided herself on her deep knowledge of cultural norms that allowed her to blend seamlessly with her targets, but this was just overwhelming. True, she had only done a bit of light research into ogre culture and written them off as hopelessly stupid, which led her to make critical mistakes that He had instantly picked up on. Still, to hold such broad knowledge of the customs and history of a minor race like ogres? She fought down the urge to prostrate herself on the sidewalk and imitate Chunk¡¯s display of obeisance to her. ¡°Well, I digress, ogres have a very static culture, unlike most of the mortal races. That is why I rely on your kind. I had half expected both of my picks to be replaced, but Buzz seems to be the genuine article. He¡¯s adapting admirably, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Remember, stay in character.¡± ¡°Chunk agree. Chunk not mess up again.¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°Oh my, now look at that tower. Truly magnificent! The way it shines in the dying sun like blood-stained gold. Sights like these have me questioning my decision to remain underground for all these millennia. Tell me, is the surface anything like this? I have not bothered looking in so very long.¡± ¡°Chunk not see anything like this. Chunk see buildings much shorter and wider. Chunk never seen anything as shiny.¡± She struggled to convey the information in a coherent way that was still in line with Chunk¡¯s limited vocabulary. Bob nodded. ¡°I have my suspicions about this place. I suppose I will have to turn my attention to the outside world tonight. After we log off, report to me with your boss.¡± Chunk¡¯s face visibly paled. She couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine what sort of punishments were in store for her. Although she could envision the smugness on one of Shifty¡¯s borrowed faces as she was put in her place. She let out a meek ¡°Chunk obey.¡±
As Kragathor logged out, he felt the momentary weirdness of going from a tiny and frail human body to his gloriously massive form. He set the Virmo crystal aside and shifted over to his sixth most favorite pile of gold, which overlooked a small, shimmering lake of quicksilver. While the scrying panes were perfectly adequate for overseeing his dungeon, they lacked the adaptability and sheer power of a scrying pool, and there was no scrying pool with greater flexibility or power than the one which now lay before him. It had gone unused for over a thousand years, but he could not bring himself to get rid of it, for it was an exquisite work of art in its own right. The mirrored surface rippled as Kragathor touched the circle of runes inscribed in platinum and copper around the small silvery sea. Abruptly, the reflection disappeared, displaying a large blue and green orb, obscured by patches of wispy white.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Following his unspoken command, the point of view shifted in an instant, displaying a sprawling city far below, with a large cluster of buildings on its outskirts surrounded by an overly orderly forest. As he had expected, the mortal city below was nothing like the grandeur of that city in the world of Ciro. The buildings were more orderly than he¡¯d expected, and most of the construction appeared to be of stone. Only the buildings outside of the city¡¯s walls were made of wood, and many of these were the shoddy construction that he had long ago associated with mortal works. Outside the ring of slums was the unusually orderly forest, with the trees seemingly planted according to a grid pattern. The view shifted once more to focus on the cluster of buildings at the center of this forest. Now this is curious, he thought. Though the buildings were low and sprawling, their exteriors mimicked those tall and shiny towers of the otherworld. Windows of tinted glass contrasted with panels of brushed steel, giving the exterior of the buildings a sleek and otherworldly appearance. What few stone structures there were seemed to be cast from a light gray stone, as opposed to being made of cut blocks. Kragathor followed the most powerful emanations of magic to the largest building at the center of this compound. As he briefly examined the building, he noted runes to ward against divination inscribed on the backside of each of the thin steel plates that lined the building¡¯s exterior. It was laughably easy for him to bypass these without triggering their built-in alarm function. The view in the scrying pool split into multiple perspectives that began to independently roam through the building. Kragathor mentally cataloged everything they revealed as they covered the four aboveground floors and the two below ground. Finally, he came to the prize of the exploratory divination, as the disjointed perspectives rejoined into a single point of view outside a large chamber within the bottom level of the building. A sign beside the door read ¡®Server Room.¡¯ The wards on this room were far more complex and designed in a style that Kragathor had never seen before. He could easily overpower it, but then it would trigger an alarm function. Parts of the design were in the magical equivalent of a foreign language that Kragathor had never seen before. For the first time in an extremely long time, Kragathor was at a loss. Now he was truly intrigued.
Stefano, Wizzlefidget, Bloodied Talon, and the aide sat around a small table in a private room in one of the Virmo campus¡¯s on-site restaurants. Along with them was a young human man with black hair and smooth bronze skin. The young man seemed a little agitated. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t Leaflight be here too if we¡¯re discussing business?¡± The young man¡¯s voice had an accent to it very much unlike the others¡¯. Stefano shook his head. ¡°Randy has been rather uncooperative in this matter, and so we decided it best we not trouble him with something he doesn¡¯t believe is a serious threat, Mr. Ikeda.¡± ¡°You know he hates being called Randy. I know he¡¯s a bit of a snob at times, but can¡¯t you guys at least try to be civil to each other? You guys are all my friends, and I dislike seeing you fight.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s beside the point right now, Kenji,¡± the gnomish head of DevOps interjected. ¡°We have a real, pressing problem. Last night, the wards around the Server Room recorded a very powerful and complex divination observing them. It did not try to push through the wards, but it observed them for well over an hour before disappearing. The outer wards never even detected the intrusion. Based on the recorded information, it could have just brute forced the wards you designed, but it seemed more interested in studying them,¡± she explained. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll admit that that is rather curious, but that doesn¡¯t explain why the whole board isn¡¯t here.¡± ¡°We didn¡¯t want to distract you from your work until we were absolutely certain, and Randy¡­ Randell, has been obstinate and obstructive in this matter. Over the last two days, we¡¯ve been gathering the information, and the more we get, the more certain we are. An ancient dragon has procured a copy of the Virmo terminal crystal and has been playing on the Ciro server. It has also copied that one three times, two of which are connected with other accounts. Further¡­¡± Stefano didn¡¯t manage to get any further before Kenji interrupted him. ¡°Holy fucking hell, a real dragon?! That¡¯s awesome! Man, I¡¯ve been wanting to see one of those!¡± ¡°Kenji, this is serious,¡± said Talon. ¡°Everything so far points to the dragon using the crystal being Kragathor Tenset Malevolous. Any dragon would have been bad enough, but from the information I acquired¡­¡± Talon breathed deeply and shuddered. ¡°Kragathor is ancient beyond measure. He disappeared thousands of years ago and was thought dead. I met the Grand Patriarch of my clan, the largest and oldest known dragon in the world, and he spoke of Kragathor with an awe and reverence that your kind reserve for the gods. This dragon we believe we are dealing with is a legend amongst legends for his kind. After speaking with the Grand Patriarch, I did some more research, using the titles he¡¯d referenced. ¡°Our recorded history is rather fragmented and missing large swaths from before the beginning of the Age of Heroes, when the mortal races banded together and managed to take out most of the world¡¯s most powerful beings, at great costs. The Dragon Wars, in particular, set civilization back for a long time. Kragathor, under many different titles, was responsible for more than a few similar purges of nations of far gone legend. Once I knew where to look, I found legends of him and references to him dating back to the beginnings of the first civilizations, more than 50,000 years ago. He¡¯s even a common ancestor for most of the remaining dragons in this world. ¡°I could go on for hours and not properly convey the scope of the threat he represents if he should decide he doesn¡¯t want us around anymore.¡± The others looked to Talon, a bit stunned by his impassioned speech. It was rather out of character for the cool-blooded Scaled One to get so worked up over anything. ¡°Alright, I get it, this is serious. So, what can we do?¡± ¡°We¡¯re trying to work on a way to contact him directly, but it will take at least a few more days. The measures you asked us to implement for customer privacy have ended up hindering us in our ability to reach out to him. Our only hope is to proactively seek to appease him,¡± said Stefano and Wizzlefidget nodded in agreement. ¡°For now, I¡¯m going to reassign my aide to you, in order to protect you should things take a turn for the worse, Mr. Ikeda.¡± Kenji shivered as he looked at the aide. ¡°No offense, but that thing is a little too uncanny valley for me. I kind of regret giving you guys the idea to create that.¡± ¡°Kenji, please,¡± Wizzlefidget pleaded. ¡°Without you, none of this would have been possible. Let us do what we can to protect you and your legacy.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± he agreed, with a slight tone of sulk in his voice. Interlude: How Much Smash Is Too Much Smash? No Such Thing Greetings reader, I am Grug, the Philosogre. (See what I did there? Ogres can smash words together too, not just heads!) In this book, I hope to smash the racial bias and cultural preconceptions that people hold about my proud and ancient race, the ogres. I have compiled historical information passed down through oral tradition and passages recorded in ogre magi spell books. I also interviewed numerous influential ogres, such as Lurg the Smasher and Thunk the Smasher and Krog the Smasher. Unfortunately, Murg the Smasher refused my interview; he thought I would somehow steal his strength by taking down his words. Now sure, I¡¯m certain that some of you are like ¡®Grug¡¯s not a real ogre! He¡¯s only eight feet tall and 350 pounds! He¡¯s practically human sized!¡¯ And to those who say that, I would be thankful if you came here to say so in person so that I can smash your self-esteem with vile words and terrible imprecations. Then I¡¯ll smash your face if you¡¯re also smaller than me.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I am proud of my cultural heritage as an ogre, even if I am rather scrawny and short and overly wordy. In this volume I have smashed together hundreds of disparate accounts into a cohesive whole and bashed it a bit further with my own commentary to provide context for those of you not in a smash-centric culture. I will also explore the ethics of our culture and how we don¡¯t actually enslave people of other races; rather, we protect them by smashing them into service around a central authoritarian caste. Now, I¡¯m sure some of the more academic folks out there are crying foul at this point. ¡°Ogres can¡¯t write like this! They can barely wipe their own asses!¡± Well, it is unfortunately true. My hands are far too large and clumsy to operate a pen in anything resembling a legible manner. However, I do have my pal Leopold to transcribe my musings for me, and he is totally not a slave and absolutely free to go anytime he wants to leave. (I¡¯m not free, he¡¯s lying, oh shit, he can read this) Like I was saying, I have my pal Harold to transcribe my musings, totally free of coercion via the implied threat of smashing. I do hope you enjoy my book, and that you end up enlightened by the concepts which my words will smash into your psyche. Smashing Regards, Grug the Word Smasher, Philosogre Extraordinaire Chapter Seventeen Morphiest sulkily followed Shifty to the Transfer Room and waited as he spoke the code that would shift their position to His Extreme Glory¡¯s personal vault. She dreaded what was to come. If He merely chose to smite her, that would be the best-case scenario from the hundreds that had run through her head since she¡¯d received her orders. However, since Shifty was present, she knew she could only wish for such a swift and merciful end. She felt the world around her stretch and twist and tear, and with a light pop of displaced air found herself in the massive cavern where the Crimson Overlord dwelled. ¡°We will wait here, He appears to be busy,¡± Shifty whispered, not bothering to conceal the awe and terror he felt. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered in reply. More than an hour passed before the massive, scaled form turned to regard them, tearing his gaze away from something that lay beyond the small mountain of gold upon which he¡¯d coiled himself. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re here. Perfect,¡± Kragathor rumbled, winding his way toward a closer pile of gold. The sound of cascading gold coins continued for almost a minute even after he settled himself into place. "I have a task for you, one which your group will be best suited for handling, although I do not yet have a set time frame for when you will carry out the task. For now, I simply want you to make preparations. Although, Morphiest, you will have to work on it in the time we are not logged in. I still expect you to continue your assumed duties in the game. We¡¯re going to push for Level 10 tomorrow.¡± The crawling fear inside the Doppelganger¡¯s chest evaporated as the massive, rumbling voice spoke, replaced with awe and gratitude that threatened to burst through her ribs. Had she had tear ducts in her base form, she¡¯d be having difficulty in not crying in relief. He¡¯d even addressed her by name!
As Bob and the two minions reappeared and regrouped after logging in, they headed for the closest request board. He left FarShot and ShadowRunner messages, explaining the plan for the day if they wished to join in. The three of them loaded up on every Yellow Zone request that they could. They had open ended bounties on drones and mutants. Requests to survey damaged tunnel areas and to locate and destroy mutant nests. There were even a few for retrieving biological samples from various types of mutants, which Buzz assured the others he¡¯d be able to handle. Over all, they had a bit more than a dozen separate requests to fill. Just as they were about to enter the tunnel locks, Bob received a message from FarShot indicating they¡¯d logged in, so he sent them a list of requests to pick up from the board. A short while later, the sibling duo joined them, and they entered the tunnels. ¡°Father dearest is out of town today, so we can play all day,¡± said FarShot after they exchanged greetings. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you guys are planning to do the same, with all these requests we piled up?¡± ¡°Yep!¡± Buzz answered cheerily. ¡°We¡¯re aiming for level 10 today! Did you two stock up on ammo? Wouldn¡¯t want to have to keep coming back due to running out.¡± ¡°Yeah, we did,¡± ShadowRunner said as they filed into and through the tunnel¡¯s lock mechanism. ¡°I also picked up a few more of those grenade things. Two more of the thermite ones, and two ¡®Fragmentation Grenades¡¯ that are supposed to be good against softer targets. Did you know there was a class that specializes in these things?¡± ¡°I think that class used a different variant of the same idea, since it is supposed to be about long-range area bombardment. The one you had is supposed to be thrown by hand. I checked all the available classes before I made my choice and have been doing a bit more research in the WIK since then.¡± said Bob. ¡°Where do you find the time? Abyss, I¡¯d love it if I could stay logged in all day.¡± ¡°Well, Shadow, I¡¯m taking a nice little break right now from my regular daily routine since I only ever work when I feel like it. That means I¡¯ve got plenty of free time to use for myself. Besides, this is much more interesting than my daily life was before this.¡± FarShot shook her head. ¡°I wish we had that kind of freedom. It must be nice.¡± Bob shrugged as he answered. ¡°It¡¯s how I have always lived.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with a life of service, though,¡± said Buzz. ¡°My trade revolves around providing services and goods to others, but it has been quite fulfilling, and my clientele are deserving of the best service I can give them. Even if my own desires aren¡¯t always met, I know that I serve a greater cause.¡± His voice took on a wistful tone as he spoke, and his eyes darted at and away from FarShot¡¯s back a few times as they walked. ¡°However, it¡¯s long been in my family to serve others. Each of us has our own path to follow.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Chunk like feel pretty. Chunk like smash. Chunk not worry about anything else.¡± FarShot started giggling, and then her brother joined in. Their chuckling rapidly devolved into a full-on laughing fit that seemed to feed off of each other as their bodies were wracked with spasms of merriment. It was a few minutes before they¡¯d calmed down, their faces red as they blinked away tears of mirth and recovered their breath. ¡°Thanks Chunk, I think we needed that,¡± said FarShot as she giggled a bit more. Her brother nodded in agreement. Buzz and Bob looked at each other and exchanged shrugs. Humans could be weird sometimes.
The group¡¯s conversations died down as they proceeded deeper into the tunnels and began encountering their targets. Bob was at his least useful here, as they hardly stopped in one place for more than a few seconds, destroying everything they came across with a fusillade of gunfire. Buzz, due to his weapon choice, was actually doing fairly well. He¡¯d bought a type of ammo that spread a larger number of small projectiles than the buckshot mode on Bob¡¯s turrets, and it appeared to be specialized in taking down groups of the smaller drones. FarShot had been dumping all her skill points into Rifles, and had gotten a few increases through use as well. She was now firing faster and with more accuracy and a growing confidence as she continued to put down target after target with nary a miss in between. Chunk was providing the group with most of the cover. An unusual perk of her having made her avatar as physically large as she could was that her broad body simply blocked more shots. Since her equipment was sized to her frame, this meant her tower shield was equally over-sized. Even ShadowRunner was holding his own as he continued funneling his skill points into Pistols. His scouting abilities hadn¡¯t been improving much, but he was now able to reliably hit moving targets the size of a mutant rat, at least when he didn¡¯t insist on dual wielding and firing wildly like some kind of idiot. Although, Bob had to admit that there was a certain aesthetic to the manic alternating discharge of two firearms at a group of seemingly overwhelming foes. Bob¡¯s only real contributions were occasional potshots with his rifle as they breezed through the subterranean corridors. However, that changed as soon as they came up on their first mutant rat nest. As they neared the marker for the nest extermination request, a smaller mutant rat ran away from them as they approached. Some thirty to forty seconds later, an ominous chittering and skittering could be heard echoing through the corridors, much louder than the usual swarm of rats they dealt with elsewhere. Bob tossed out two portable shields, one on either side of Chunk, and dropped his two turrets in buckshot mode to either side of the shields. Bob and ShadowRunner took cover behind the shield on Chunk¡¯s left, since Buzz had moved quickly to stand with FarShot on the right. Time seemed to slow as the squeaking and scratching noises grew closer. The atmosphere of the group had a tension to it that Bob had never really experienced firsthand in his own life. Even without the threat of real death, they were each determined to hold their ground here for their own reasons. He was lost in his internal revelry of this truly novel sensation and started firing several moments after everyone else as the river of rat flesh broiled out of multiple adjoining corridors and rushed toward them. The wave of six-legged rodents was met with a wall of flying metal and thunderous cacophony. Chunk was the only one not contributing to the deafening storm of gunfire as they fired as fast as they could at the onrushing flood of bodies which continually spilled over the growing embankment of bullet ridden corpses. Bob¡¯s pulse raced as he frantically emptied magazine after magazine into the steadily encroaching tide. Notifications flickered in his vision and disappeared, unheeded. His focus was solely on ensuring that as few mutant rats reached their formation as possible. This was quite possibly the most excitement he had ever experienced. Chunk finally started contributing as the front runners began to break through the hail of projectiles and charge at them, lashing out with her electro-club at the creatures as they crashed against the shields, adding the stink of electrical discharge and burnt flesh to the growing odors of smoke and blood. Thankfully for the group, the six-legged rats¡¯ anatomy was not suited for leaping the barriers, and so they instead tried to scramble over the slick surfaces or force their way into the gap Chunk left for herself, only to be met with crushing blows and arcs of electricity. Any that tried to squeeze by the gaps between the shields and the walls where the turrets lay were blasted apart in a rather spectacular fashion. It was difficult to gauge how much time had passed, and Bob had taken to keeping track of the percentage of his original ammo reserves remaining. The flow of rats finally slackened when he was at 22% remaining, and he stopped firing completely at 20% as the turrets were capable of handling the quickly diminishing source of mutants. ¡°That. Was. Intense!¡± ShadowRunner cheered. ¡°No kidding. I was starting to worry I¡¯d run out of ammo, and I really stocked up ahead of time,¡± his sister agreed. ¡°I¡¯ve never experienced anything quite like that,¡± Bob added in an even tone, belying the fact that he was very content with this freshly made memory, perhaps even a little happy. ¡°Wow. I know you guys aren¡¯t much for bio loot, but with the requests we picked up, after a bit of synthesis, we¡¯re going to get quite a windfall here. I guess I should put my level up skill points into the relevant skill¡­ Sweet abyss! I already hit level 7! Most of the way to 8!¡± The group broke into distracted idle chatter as they allocated their skill points and chose the ability that they¡¯d unlocked upon reaching level 6. Buzz looted the battlefield, helping to ease the rather horrid stench lingering in the air which the rest were still too hyped from the battle to have fully noticed yet. Bob had reached level 8 and was nearly thirty percent of the way into the next level. He chose the Additional Channel option that he¡¯d been eyeing from the start. He¡¯d probably go for Durable Constructs next, the other ability at the bottom of the tree. He put the three skill points earned into Power Management, as he knew that was going to become even more of a choke point for his ability to deploy. Chapter Eighteen The group discussed the abilities they chose as they resumed their journey to the navigation marker for the rat¡¯s nest, which was only a few corridors away. Buzz furthered his Synthesis specialization, seemingly ready to follow the same role in the game as in his life. The ability he chose increased the effects of his Synthesized medicines by 50% when applied directly to the wound or point of infection or exposure. Chunk chose one that made her shield effectively impenetrable for a short period of time but could only be activated once an hour. FarShot¡¯s new ability was a threat identification add-on to the IFF in her rifle scope that would attempt to color code targeted foes in order of probable threat. ShadowRunner seemed quite excited about his, which allowed him to interface with any electrical device he physically came into contact with and attempt to overwrite its instructions. Bob didn¡¯t really understand that one yet, but it sounded vaguely promising. Their chatter died down as they approached the nest, their ebullient mood effectively killed by the fetid scent of rot and waste that pervaded the enormous chamber the corridor opened into. The walls here were covered in the same bluish green material they¡¯d encountered yesterday. However, this time there was far more of it. The floor was covered with a terraced mound of the stuff, each tier containing dozens of pools filled with murky, foul liquid and a grotesquely distorted mutant rat. The mutant rats in the pools had a weak and frail looking front half of their body hanging from their enormously distended green abdomens, swollen to many times a ¡®normal¡¯ mutant rat¡¯s size. Their two hindmost limbs hung limply in midair, atrophied and useless. The group stared in abject horror at the sight, their reason and faculties fled at the horror of the sight that lay in front of them. Aside from Bob, that is. He noted the steady plop sound emanating every ten to twenty seconds, and the much smaller than typical mutant rats that scurried to and from the pools on only their four rear legs, using their foremost limbs to carry globs of unidentifiable goop to the pools and tiny wriggling green forms away from where they were being born. ¡°Huh, they¡¯re acting kind of like ants,¡± said Bob, breaking the spell of morbid fascination that had come over the others. Chunk and Shadow shuddered, and FarShot¡¯s face was starting to approximate the same hue as the mutant rats¡¯ pallid flesh. Buzz seemed mildly intrigued now that his initial revulsion had worn off. FarShot turned to her brother and grabbed him by the shoulders. ¡°Burn it. Burn it all. Burn it all with fire. Give me the damn thing if you won¡¯t.¡± Her voice gradually rose until it was just a hint below a hysterical shriek, and she began to shake him by the shoulders. ¡°Whoa, whoa, calm down, sis. I got it. Just give me a moment to reclaim my wits, you know?¡± ShadowRunner withdrew two of the cylindrical grenades he¡¯d used the day before and handed one off to Bob. Together, they pulled the pins and threw the thermite grenades to opposite ends of the room. The group made a hasty retreat to get away from the rapidly growing inferno filled with squeals and squeaks. Nearly half a mile of hurried walking later, at a pace set by Chunk and the siblings, they finally came to a halt. After a vigorous agreement among Chunk, ShadowRunner and FarShot to never speak of what they had just seen and the mildly disinterested acceptance of the trio¡¯s mandate to not do so around the others by Bob and Buzz, they moved on to their next request: taking out a ¡®Drone Lair.¡¯ While Bob and Buzz remained enthusiastic about the request, the others were dragging their feet and hoping not to witness anything like the rat nest, even knowing that the drones were merely complex mechanisms and not actual living beings. They¡¯d walked quite a distance in relative silence and could still hear the distant roar of the nest burning. Whatever that material was, Bob was glad that it was so flammable. It really made the job much easier. An interminable length of awkward silence later, ShadowRunner held out his hand. ¡°I hear drones.¡± They waited quietly for a minute before the Cyber Rogue ushered them forward. Buzz¡¯s shotgun cut the unsuspecting drones down, and the group distributed the loot. As they drew closer to the Nav marker for the Drone Lair, they encountered incrementally larger groups of drones with increasing frequency, almost as if patrols were being rerouted to target them. Ammo supplies were getting low, but so far, they hadn¡¯t encountered anything anywhere near the magnitude of the waves of rats they had slaughtered. Full of over-confidence, the team brazenly stepped into the chamber in which the Drone Lair was situated.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. <
Bob reeled as he stumbled toward the other members of his group, his head feeling a little hazy and mildly painful. ¡°Okay, we¡¯re going to need to plan that out a little better. Let¡¯s make use of the time until this debuff wears off to restock, turn in the requests we have completed, and maybe get some new things for dealing with those emplacements. Shadow, FarShot, how many did you spot?¡± ¡°Abyss, I only saw two. The one that tagged me and the one that popped Chunk in the gut and got your head in the bargain. Gods, it took me right in the chest and I didn¡¯t feel a thing before I got the death message.¡± ¡°Yea, that was kinda grotesque. She kind of looked like she imploded, and your head was just gone, Bob. I spotted a third one which popped Buzz at the same time. Literally popped him. Like a big balloon filled with chunky red water. Abyss, I think I¡¯m going to be sick.¡± ShadowRunner took several minutes to compose himself. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it was just those three. I got hit by a bunch of medium sized drone guns after you lot went down. My armor barely lasted two seconds.¡± Chunk was sitting dazedly on the floor, looking at her shield. It hadn¡¯t even been deployed when she got hit, but that should have theoretically made it tougher to punch through, being three layers thick. A neat hole punctured all three panels, corresponding to a hole on the front of her armor, and a larger hole on her back. Looking at the others, he saw that their equipment was similarly damaged. He mentally added a visit to the PC building to the to do list. Then he remembered when he¡¯d met FarShot and ShadowRunner. They¡¯d claimed to have died, but their equipment was pristine. ¡°You guys didn¡¯t mention equipment damage when you first told me about in-game death. In fact, your armor, as I recall, looked quite new.¡± The siblings averted their eyes from Bob¡¯s inquisitive stare. ShadowRunner rubbed the back of his neck and looked particularly sheepish. He hesitated and stuttered a few false starts before seeming to come to some internal decision and speaking with clarity. ¡°We couldn¡¯t afford new armor and didn¡¯t know how to get it repaired. I paid one of our messenger boys to fetch another Virmo crystal, create an account and buy new armor for us with his starting funds. We let him keep the new device on the condition he not tell anyone.¡± Chunk chuckled, and Bob just shrugged before he started issuing directives. ¡°Well, I guess we need to do some repairs as well. Transfer your damaged gear to me, I¡¯ll handle the repairs. Buzz, you get on the synthesis stuff you were talking about earlier. FarShot and Shadow, do some research on things we can buy that¡¯ll help us. If we need to blow a bunch of credits, that¡¯s fine, we can always make more. Chunk¡­ just be Chunk.¡±
Restocked, rearmed, and with equipment repaired, the intrepid quintet set forth once more to conquer the Drone Lair. The whole group had reached level 9 with the requests they¡¯d turned in, with Bob the closest to hitting level 10 ¡ª needing just under a third of the total required experience. ShadowRunner was talking about his newly upgraded Intruder Link. ¡°¡­ and it¡¯s going to upgrade my IFF jamming a bunch. They won¡¯t even notice me until I start shooting at them! This is going to be awesome! Especially with the special surprise we picked up. We¡¯re going to make those things pay! They¡¯re going to regret the day they shot me to death!¡± ¡°You know they¡¯re just automatons, right? Like a basic golem, but all mechanical parts,¡± Buzz said, deflating Shadow¡¯s enthusiasm. ¡°Er, well, yeah. I know. But still. We¡¯re going to kick their... mechanical parts¡­ Ah, abyss, you just had to kill my fun, didn¡¯t you? You know, I¡¯m just going to call you Buzz-kill from now on.¡± FarShot laughed as her brother floundered. As before, they encountered a steady escalation in patrolling drone swarms until they reached the chamber in which the Drone Lair resided. ShadowRunner, who had not engaged in any firefights the entire time, carefully snuck his way into the Drone Lair. Bob did not hear any gunfire, so he assumed the Cyber Rogue¡¯s mission was proceeding as planned. FarShot waited nervously, a small device held in her hands, ready to flip a switch at the first signs of trouble. A few minutes of tense silence later, and Shadow returned. He gave a thumbs up, and grinned. ¡°See? Easy as can be. Now, dear sister, if you¡¯d allow me to do the honors?¡± FarShot flipped a cover over the switch she¡¯d been anxiously guarding. ¡°All yours, brother.¡± ¡°Alright Chunk, use your shield thing when I say two. Shadow, on the count of three. Buzz and FarShot, you¡¯re with me on four.¡± Chunk deployed her tower shield, and Bob set out two portable shields to either side of her, angling back and away. ¡°One.¡± ¡°Two.¡± Chunk¡¯s shield began to glow. The group huddled low behind her. ¡°Three.¡± ShadowRunner flipped the switch, and a mighty roar issued from the chamber, and a blast wave washed over the group, breaking over Chunk¡¯s glowing shield and continuing past them. ¡°Four!¡± Bob shouted. He, Buzz and FarShot each threw a fragmentation grenade into the chamber as far as they could. Moments later, an ominous buzzing whine of converging drones came from the room. Five seconds later and a series of much quieter explosions rang out from the chamber. Another three seconds passed, and Chunk¡¯s shield stopped glowing. Another wave of drones closed in, and the group spread out a bit, taking cover behind the portable shields to start demolishing the inbound waves. Bob set both turrets to guard their rear and joined in the firefight. Less than a minute later, the corridors were quiet once more, and the air smelled of gun smoke, ozone, and burning plastic. Chapter Nineteen <
Randell Leaflight stalked his way through the corridors of the Virmo headquarters. Even if he hadn¡¯t been extremely well known around the company, everyone still would have avoided him in passing, given the snarl etched in his face and his squinting eyes darting about as if seeking a target upon which to unleash his pent-up rage. ¡°Fucker calling me Randy, he knows I hate that,¡± the half-elf angrily grumbled to himself as he slipped into an empty office in the Account Administration wing. ¡°Hah, I¡¯ll show him, the smug bastard. Show them all that they¡¯re getting worked up for nothing.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. As was common, the last person to use the console had left it powered on and logged in. It was even at the account administration page. Randell and Wizzlefidget had been the two to vote for funding stricter security measures for the consoles, and Kenji had ultimately been swayed by Stefano¡¯s and Talon¡¯s financial arguments at that point. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Randell slid into the seat and brought up the account management system. With just a few taps of a sigil, he brought up the account details for the three crystals that had been causing them so much trouble and revoked their login rights. Why didn¡¯t they just do this in the first place? What a bunch of gullible buffoons. The position of Chief Minister should have been his. It was his strategies that got people talking about their products ¡ª his hand-picked employees that spread the rumors. He was even Kenji¡¯s first friend in this world, and ultimately the first to recognize the brilliance of the bumbling young man who had struggled to learn the speech of this land. This company would be nothing without him being there to guide and mentor Kenji in the ways of this world. Stefano was a joke, nothing more than an over-glorified project manager. But now, they would see for sure. Stefano¡¯s blatant waste of resources on some frivolous fantasy would reveal him for the incompetent fool that Randell had seen in him all along, and he would once more be Kenji¡¯s most trusted confidant. A smile spread across his fair features and failed to reach his green eyes. Victory was at hand, and it smelled sweet.
¡°Virmo, Log In.¡± Nothing happened. Kragathor tried again. ¡°Virmo, Log In.¡± Again, there was no reaction. Kragathor Analyzed the crystal and confirmed that the enchantments had not deteriorated. He could still sense its connection to the server as well. He activated the account management function of the Virmo crystal. ¡°Virmo, Account.¡±
Account Access Invalid
Login rights for your account have been revoked by a system administrator. Reason: Counterfeiting Notes: Related to three counterfeit devices -RL
Kragathor was stumped. Counterfeit? Did they mean to imply that his work was in any way of lesser quality than their own? Not possible, they were exactly identical in every way, even down to the infinitesimal attachments of mana to the crystalline lattice of the quartz. Perhaps they were taking umbrage with the fact that their work had been copied at all. But why would they do that? The simple fact that he copied it was a testament to the quality of the device, a ringing endorsement to its potential value. After all, proliferation of a good idea has always been a testament to the original craftsman¡¯s own abilities. Kragathor simply could not reason out why they would revoke his ability to play the game over anything like that. Were he not utterly baffled by the nonsensical actions, he might have become truly annoyed and irrationally lashed out at them for what they had done. He recognized this and focused his mind on how to remedy the situation. He¡¯d much rather own the servers than destroy them in a fit of totally justifiable irritation. Really, his anger was actually very reasonable. Far more so than that flimsy counterfeiting excuse. No, that was not an excuse, it was an insult. A proverbial wattle of spit to the face as they snatched away his newfound treasure. As the confusion faded from the forefront of his mind, it was replaced with an ocean of churning rage. They dare to take his things? Were their lives not short enough? Were they truly so eager for death that they would dare to steal from him? Have they forgotten the lessons he burned into the land again and again before he retired to his underground retreat? Must he once more venture forth and leave naught but ash and memories of terror in his wake? Did they not remember the misery of their ancestors who choked on ash laden air as he laid waste to their homes for lusting after that which was his? Why should he not scour the lands to the bedrock with the flames of his wrath and eliminate the nuisances once and for all? Ah, but if I destroy everything, I won¡¯t be able to play the game anymore. I need the servers intact. I still haven¡¯t decided on my next class either, and I¡¯m still a long way from seeing the other cities, and it would be a nuisance to replace the siblings¡­ Only temperance brought on by eons of experience, the thought of yesterday¡¯s fun, and the promise of more to see kept him from any rash actions such as teleporting into the sky above the Virmo Company¡¯s headquarters. Still seething with anger, he forced himself to calm down and bade his mind to be still. No, he would not destroy the very thing that had been taken from him. Really, he also did not want to harm the creator, as this was the first time he had actually found himself in admiration of a mortal¡¯s creative genius. Really, the only person he needed to harm was the one who tried to steal¡­ He cut off that line of thought abruptly, avoiding going down the path of inevitable eruption. He did not need to be thinking those kinds of thoughts. No, what Kragathor needed was a plan, and to make some preparations. Unnoticed by Kragathor, the air in the room had grown uncomfortably warm as his temper flared, and rivulets of molten gold had started to flow down the surface of the glimmering pile upon which he rested as the flames in his belly kindled themselves once more at the thought of being unleashed. Chapter Twenty Kenji stood solemnly at the head of the boardroom table, a position which technically belonged to Stefano even though he remained in deference to Mr. Ikeda. ¡°Randell, my friend. You have let me down. Why did you not come to me? Why not seek me out instead of foolishly acting on your own?¡± Randell Leaflight stood opposite his friend, his face a blank mask. He had seemed shocked, when he came in the room and saw Kenji standing formally at the table¡¯s head, reminiscent of their strategy sessions as they had formulated the ideas for this company back in its early days. Randell¡¯s visage had briefly flickered to anger before being overcome with the stone-faced neutrality that he was well known for and would have been easy for anyone but Kenji to miss. ¡°If you do not speak, how can I understand? Without you providing context, your actions speak only of stubborn pride. Is your pride worth your life? All our lives? If this counterfeiter is even a fraction of the threat that the others believe it to be, then does the situation not warrant prudence?¡± Randell said nothing. Kenji sighed. ¡°If you will not speak to defend your actions, then you leave me no recourse, my oldest friend.¡± His tone became stiff and formal as he carefully enunciated every syllable of what he had to say next. ¡°I must ask you to resign your position with this company.¡± Those last words finally managed to crack the stony facade, as Randell¡¯s face twisted in a snarl of anger and hurt. ¡°Ask ME to resign?!¡± He shrieked, all semblance of self-restraint fleeing his features. Before the half-elf could say his next words, the world around them twisted, distorted, pulled and tore open with a sound like a thousand plows furrowing the earth in unison.
Kragathor finished inscribing runes and ritual circles into the stone walls of the cavern he had constructed. He called forth a small group of minions, led by Shifty, to deal with things for him in accordance with his earlier instructions. He stationed them around the hemispherical bowl dug out of the cavern floor. In Old High Draconic, he spoke a brief incantation, triggering the magical formations he had prepared ¡ª his voice filling the massive space and reverberating like thunder off a mountain¡¯s peaks. Magic circles sprang into the air, glowing in reds, greens and blues. The air itself began to shimmer and twist and distort. Then, with a sound akin to tearing cloth amplified a thousand-fold, a sprawling campus appeared in the center of the cavern, the bowl filled with transplanted dirt, trees, and steel and glass buildings. Astonished and terrified mortals wailed and screamed. Some collapsed insensate, while others futilely sought cover. More sounds of distress came from within the buildings, as more of the mortals came to understand their dire predicament. Kragathor surveyed the buildings and their contents. Such thin walls and paltry wards could not hamper his all-seeing gaze, not even the mysteriously complex formation around the Server Room. Good, they were right there. His new treasures. ¡°I, Kragathor Tenset Malevolous, hereby lay claim to that which I have summoned. Should any being decide to challenge my claim, you are welcome to stand before me and try to convince me otherwise.¡± As he spoke, windows shattered, and the mortals began to whimper and cry on the ground, futilely covering their ears. A concrete guard shack that was the closest building collapsed under the sonic assault that was the ancient dragon¡¯s voice.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Stefano, Kenji and the board members looked at each other, fear etched on their faces. Even Randell seemed suddenly embarrassed and contrite. The crystal scrying pane that simulated an outside window now shone with the unfamiliar landscape of an enormous cavern covered with scrawled magical formulas. Where the replanted forest should be starting stood a line of demihuman and lower humanoid monsters. Stefano scrambled to think. To figure out how to steer events toward the least terrible outcome that was now achievable. Curse that abyssal fool, Randy¡¯s condemned us all, he thought before shoving his personal feelings aside to start assimilating information and strategizing. He began to move toward the crystal scrying pane, ready to manually control it to get a better look at the situation. ¡°1-A, get Kenji to the vault in the Server Room. Safeguard him at all costs!¡± Stefano barked out, forgoing his usual distant respect for the sake of expediency. For all he knew the slightly shorter utterance might mean the difference between Mr. Ikeda surviving or not. His aide snapped to attention and was already dragging the stunned young man from the room before the second sentence left Stefano¡¯s mouth. This was the worst-case scenario, amplified a hundred times and made even worse. What had prompted this? This was surely too quick of a reaction to result from Randy¡¯s idiocy. How was it even possible? Teleportation on this scale was said to be outright impossible. As Stefano began to swing the scrying pane¡¯s point of view to show another directionbringing a monstrously huge form into the frame, the floor beneath his feet began to rumble and vibrate with a terrifyingly loud noise that, while too loud to properly hear, managed to convey its meaning directly into his mind without difficulty. ¡°I, Kragathor Tenset Malevolous, hereby lay claim to that which I have summoned. Should any being decide to challenge my claim, you are welcome to stand before me and try to convince me otherwise.¡± He barely paused in his survey to register what the absurdly large, very red dragon had said. Numerous people had been caught outside, and he could see them cowering and writhing on the ground, holding their hands over their ears. A guard shack near the dragon had collapsed outright. He had no time to pray to the gods for the safety of the people within. He withdrew the sending tablet from his pocket, an early version of something they¡¯d planned to release next year to the general public. Another of Mr. Ikeda¡¯s brilliant ideas. He tapped the sigils for the head of security, and for the on-site medical staff, and began directing them to the worst affected so that they could organize and send their own people quickly and effectively. The sounds of the terrified and the injured were transmitted through the scrying pane, but he had no time to pay them any heed. He had to do what he could now. He could be haunted by the sheer horror of it all later. ¡°I challenge your claim!¡± A tiny, familiar voice shrieked out, carried through the divinatory tool. ¡°What? No. No no nonono.¡± Stefano whipped his head around and saw that in his hyper focused state, Randell had slipped from the room unnoticed. Talon and Wizzlefidget had followed Stefano¡¯s lead, employing scrying panes of their own to help direct the rescue and relief teams. ¡°Nononono, you fool. Please don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s you. You idiot bastard thrice condemned to the abyss, you can¡¯t be this stupid!¡± Stefano whispered fervently to himself as he panned the view in his own crystalline window around until a familiar golden blond head appeared, standing defiantly in front of a small crowd of fearful looking people as if interposing himself between them and this monstrous threat. A sense of dread filled Stefano as he watched the massive head shift, directing its two enormous amber and gold orbs that it called eyes to focus on the tiny little man that stood in opposition to overwhelming might. The dragon snorted. ¡°Anyone else?¡± It asked, its tone strangely soft as the wisps of ash that used to be Randell Leaflight, the half-elven Vice Minister of Public Relations for the Virmo Company and Stefano¡¯s less than friendly rival, drifted lazily away in the tepid air currents of the cavern. To Ash - Chapter Twenty - Extra Scene Randell stared in abject horror at the scrying pane that Stefano had redirected to show the massive dragon that had torn the entire Virmo campus through space into a vast, underground cavern while 1-A hustled Kenji out of the room. The dragon¡¯s proclamation rumbled through the building, and Randell could faintly hear the screams and cries of terror throughout the building and the sounds of glass shattering. Oh, gods above and below, what have I done? I¡¯ve cast us all into the abyss. His face felt slack, and he could not summon the energy to shape it to reflect his regret. Immediately, Stefano started doing what he did best, organizing. Randell watched and listened for a moment as the man that he considered as his rival began to coordinate medical and security teams, directing them where they were most needed. Wizzlefidget and Talon began to do the same, following Stefano¡¯s lead. Of course. It was suddenly plain as day why Kenji had forsaken his friendship in favor of this man. It felt like a hand was tightening around Randell¡¯s heart and lungs, crushing his chest from the inside. He fled the room. What could he do after all? He was nothing more than a performer. A songster and storyteller who rode to glory on the coattails of a brilliant man. Sure, Randell had taken pity on the scruffy looking man with the exotically colored skin and paid him to act as a porter; then came back to employ him again and again as his interest grew in the enigma that was the young man who spoke in tongues he¡¯d never heard. But did that really entitle him to Kenji¡¯s time and attention? No. He¡¯d just been jealous and bitter that his once closest friend was drifting away to a place he couldn¡¯t reach. Kenji had been destined for heights far beyond what a lowly tavern singer and part-time swindler like himself could ever aspire to even see. He should just be glad he was there to help Kenji begin his ascent.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Randell stopped and breathed heavily for a moment, hunched over and fighting back the emotions which blurred his sight, blinking furiously. When he looked up, he realized that his feet had carried him right to the front entryway as if they were trying to get him to run away from his failure. No. He could not run from this. He had caused this, with his misplaced spite and worthless pride. Deep down, he already knew his life was forfeit. Everyone knew that dragons held grudges. That was as immutable a law as water being wet or fire being hot. Maybe, at the very least, he could save some few others. Maybe his inevitable death could have meaning. Randell stood back up, his back straight and his chest puffed out. He didn¡¯t really know what he was going to do, but it was surely going to be something stupid. He marched out the doors, his stride strong and even. He could almost hear the accompanying instrumental as some future entertainer related this, his last, foolish stand. It¡¯d probably be called something like Randell¡¯s Folly. He was fine with that. As long as his actions might, in some way, preserve Kenji¡¯s life and legacy. Maybe even save some of these poor people he had dragged into this horrendous, cataclysmic mess. He marched through a group of scared looking people that had begun to cluster together in front of the entryway, and past them. He threw his arms out wide, and projected with his best stage voice, ¡°I challenge your claim!¡± Really, was that the best he could come up with? No eloquent rebuttal, no scathing remarks? Well, there was no taking it back now. Randell thrust his chin upwards and glared at the enormous, crimson head as it turned its gaze to him. He thought he saw a slight glimmer in its massive eyes. I¡¯m sorry, Kenji. Chapter Twenty One Finally, ready to examine his prize, Kragathor used spell-craft to shrink down and change into a moderately humanoid form. The campus was empty, its occupants having been herded off to be processed by his minions in one of the outlying caverns of Deep Town. He¡¯d never really considered employing the primary humanoid races before, much less entertained the idea of owning a business. Well, he had them both now, might as well make the best of it. There¡¯d only been the one death, as well, so the business should still be reasonably intact. He saw no need to cease the company¡¯s operations now. He looked over the interior of the building as he traced the most direct route to the Server Room. The interior had an aesthetic to it that reminded him slightly of Servo City, but not quite the same. It was shiny enough, but Ciro had a more colorful feeling to it. He quickly descended the two levels of stairs to the subbasement level. Down here was an entirely different look. Wide open workspaces were separated by transparent walls. Most of the surfaces were white or chrome. The corridor ran a winding path around several of these workspaces, before ending at a steel-plated wall, visibly etched with runes and wards. Not visible to the average eye, but plain as day to Kragathor, were the more complicated rune script etched into the backs of the plates. Kragathor had spent two entire hours decoding these formations after he¡¯d first observed them in his scrying pool, after spending an hour meticulously observing them and recording their every nuance. After all, it¡¯s not every day you come across a completely novel magic language. However, this was not today¡¯s prize. No, the real treasure lay beyond. He approached the heavily armored doors and overrode the security enchantments with the barest effort of his will. They were but mere trifles compared to the new rune script. The doors swung open, and Kragathor took a moment to savor the view. The walls were covered in rune script and formations. Six crystalline obelisks were evenly spaced around the room. Six? Did that mean there were two more Virmo servers that had yet to be made available? Well, he had plenty of time for that later. Kragathor¡¯s analysis spell was going full bore as he took in the contents of the room, his gaze sliding from one server to the next, taking in their wondrously complex enchantments. Whatever mortal was responsible for this was certainly a treasure. As he shifted his attention back and forth between the pillars of quartz, he came to understand. Oh, they were even more fantastic than he had imagined. Truly worthy of being a centerpiece in his collection. He had certainly chosen wisely to not lay waste to these masterpieces. His attention was rudely drawn away by the human shaped artifact standing guard over a thick, metal door. He had noticed the fascinating construct long before he entered the room, but it was a mere sideshow of clever tricks in comparison to the beacons of pure wonder that stood arrayed around the room¡¯s center. The construct certainly looked human enough. Although, its skin was perhaps a bit too smooth and flawless. It appeared to be an adult male, of totally average proportions. He¡¯d gotten much better at picking out human traits these last few days, but it really was rather unremarkable in appearance. However, its arm had split apart in a decidedly inhuman fashion, revealing some sort of light emitting device, amplified by enchantment. It was like a marriage of Ciro technology and the magic of this world. And judging by the makeup of some of its components, probably exorbitantly expensive. Again, fascinating, but not a priority. ¡°I said, leave now or I will open fire.¡± Even the tone of its voice was a little flat, as if trying and failing to convey emotions. Kragathor considered his options. He couldn¡¯t just leave the thing be, it might damage his treasure. Normal mental domination wouldn¡¯t work, as it was a construct, with a brain based off technology which he had not yet studied properly. He didn¡¯t want to damage it either, as it certainly deserved a place in his collection and he would not be able to adequately recreate it without further study.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He briefly considered his options, while the machine man braced the arm with the light weapon against its normal one, as if preparing to fire. Well, as long as it wasn¡¯t destroyed, it¡¯d be fine, right? Kragathor spoke a short incantation: ¡°Disjunctive Disassembly.¡± The humanoid artifact burst into its component parts, not with a blast, but with a slight displacement, as if each piece were teleported a short distance from its original location, away from the mechanical golem¡¯s center. Each component continued to float in place with a slight sway as if caught in some nonexistent breeze. Shimmering lines of light marked how each piece connected to each other piece. Were Kragathor more familiar with certain documentation practices in other worlds, he¡¯d notice a likeness to an exploded diagram in a manual detailing assembly. Each individual component was held in absolute stasis. The electrons firing inside the circuits of its brain remained frozen in place. Kragathor rather liked the humanoid artifact in this state. It had a certain exotic and utilitarian beauty to it, like a web of light that was poised to draw each piece together and reassemble it at a moment¡¯s notice. It held hints of chaotic dispersion juxtaposed with orderly construction. The lack of uninvited speaking was also an improvement. Perhaps he¡¯d put it in the collection as is. Maybe next to an intact model once he had a chance to study and reproduce it. Kragathor turned back toward the obelisks, dutifully ignoring the human behind the vault-like door using a much less elegant version of his scrying panes to observe him. He focused on mentally tracing and deconstructing the spellwork involved, only to be distracted and irritated by the sense of being watched. He really would enjoy this all more in private. Kragathor turned and pointed at the ground in front of him, uttering a single command. ¡°Appear!¡±
Kenji watched his scrying panel in utter disbelief. Randell¡¯s death. The rounding up of all the employees, being herded off to some unknown fate. The unbelievably massive dragon that shrank and changed shapes to look like a more feral version of a Scaled One, although none of their kind had such a brilliant crimson coloration. Its unerring approach to the server room, and the way it casually strolled through the best defensive enchantments money could procure. The dismantling of 1-A. The massive shock of it all left him numb, and unable to react, even as the world began twisting around him in a surge of dimensional stress that placed him directly in front of the fearsome creature that had so effortlessly unmade his life¡¯s work in this world. Kenji was certain he was about to die. In moments, he would be like Randell, reduced to ash without so much as a sound or flash of light. Strangely, he was okay with this. Although his life had been eventful, full of stress and loss, this last decade had been one spent with close friends who had helped him to build something that would have long outlasted him were it not for the being in front of him. He had learned magic, and even though he hadn¡¯t become some overpowered mage and created a harem of waifus like would normally happen in an otaku¡¯s isekai fantasy, he had helped to revolutionize the field of enchanting. Even with his company snatched away by this godlike dragon, his legacy would still live on. As all these thoughts ran through his head and he waited for death, he heard a snort followed by ¡°Well?¡± Shaken from his thoughts, he saw the humanoid dragon form standing in front of him, arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently, an oddly humanizing mannerism. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± The dragon rolled its amber and gold eyes and asked again. ¡°Why did they hide you in that vault, and why were you peeping on me while I am trying to appreciate my new treasures?¡± Kenji was flabbergasted. He knew that if he didn¡¯t come up with a satisfactory answer right away, he would die. And suddenly, he was totally not okay with dying. If he had a chance to make it out of this alive, shouldn¡¯t he reach for it with all his might? Screw having a legacy, he wanted to live! ¡°They wanted to protect me. I ¡ª I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to be rude. I was just really terrified, and all I could do was watch and wonder what was going to happen to me and I don¡¯t know what is happening to my friends and I really don¡¯t want to die and ¡ª¡± ¡°Stop.¡± Kenji¡¯s mouth shut instantly at the command. He¡¯d started to babble, and he really didn¡¯t want to try this creature¡¯s patience. It cocked its head at him. ¡°Why did they want to protect you, specifically? Why you above the others?¡± ¡°Um, well, I am sort of the one behind all of this. A lot of the enchantments we use are of my design.¡± Chapter Twenty Two ¡°You are the creator behind all of this?¡± Kragathor asked, marveling at the tiny human. Then his voice hardened. ¡°Then why did you insult my craftsmanship, calling my work lowly counterfeits and cutting off my access to the game?!¡± By the end of the question, he was snarling, and wisps of smoke were drifting from his mouth. The human shrank back in fear. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t! The one who revoked your account access was Randell, and you already killed him! He acted against the rest of the board¡¯s direction when he did that! We were trying to find a way to contact¡ª¡± ¡°Oh. Well, he would have died anyways.¡± Kragathor responded with nonchalance, cutting him off before he could devolve into a blabbering mess. Kragathor¡¯s temper had immediately cooled upon hearing that the one responsible had already died. He felt a little cheated, since the death had been entirely incidental, and hadn¡¯t been sufficiently painful for the crime of trying to take his treasures, but he couldn¡¯t really complain since he had been the one to rob himself of vengeance. He would verify this later, of course, to ensure that nobody else was involved, but he was satisfied for now. After all, there were treasures to inspect.Since he had the primary architect with him, he was now keener than ever to resume his analysis of the server crystals. ¡°These server devices are fascinating. Where in all the lands did you come up with such an idea?¡± The human seemed taken aback by the sudden change in the atmosphere. ¡°Um, well, it was kind of a culmination of a lot of other ideas¡­¡± He stalled out after a few moments, seemingly unsure if he should continue speaking as Kragathor replicated a section of the enchantment formula in a glowing matrix before him. ¡°This part, the structural organization and grouping of connected devices. It¡¯s like something I once made, but the architecture is so different. And this rune script, did you create these runes on your own? I¡¯ve never seen their like in this world. They don¡¯t even bear a mild resemblance to any of the runic languages I¡¯ve seen.¡± ¡°Huh? No, those are kanji. I tried using English and then hiragana and katakana at first, but it only works with script where the individual symbols are invested with meaning instead of just representing sounds¡­ It took me a while to figure out how to effectively recreate object-oriented programming like that, but it would have taken longer with the hodge-podge of different languages that is still standard.¡± Kanji? English? Hiragana? Kragathor had no idea what those meant, but he would come back to those later. He drew up another section. ¡°And this? The method of connecting the devices? Where did this come from?¡± ¡°Oh, that? I was attempting to recreate quantum entanglement, based on my layman¡¯s knowledge of it. Really, I probably shouldn¡¯t have succeeded but the magic of this world made it work anyways.¡± This world? Interesting, but that could wait. The human seemed to be gradually growing in confidence as Kragathor drew more information out of him about his work. ¡°And this part with the extra-dimensional connection?¡± He produced another, much more complex section of glowing rune script in the air. ¡°That actually came from my search for a way to go back home. That ended up being a bust, but the research was at least good for something.¡±
Hours later, Kenji felt oddly at ease with the being that had killed the man who had been his first friend in this world. Probably because this was his first chance to legitimately geek out about his work with someone who appreciated and understood it all at a level comparable to his own. He was still bitter about his friend¡¯s death, but it¡¯s rather amazing what bone-shaking fear combined with intellectual passion can do to mess with your perspective. He still didn¡¯t know much about this dragon, Kragathor Tenset Malevolous. In fact, he¡¯d really only been answering questions since he¡¯d been yanked out of the vault by its oppressively powerful magic. A tiny part of him knew he¡¯d eventually feel incredibly guilty about acting so chummy with Randell¡¯s killer, but he couldn¡¯t help it. It was like presenting at a developer conference with a totally engaged audience, except the audience was a motherfucking dragon. A part of him even wondered what he might accomplish working together with the dragon. That was another thing. He was geeking out with a dragon, and he hadn¡¯t yet had a chance to nerdgasm over that fact. Screw all that otaku isekai harem overpowered bullshit, how could anything top this? It was like suddenly being granted a wish you never even knew you had. He was certain that his life had well and truly peaked at this moment. Even if the dragon had just murdered his friend. The dragon himself was surprisingly amiable. Not long into the impromptu Q&A session, he had summoned a table, chairs, and a pot of steaming tea that was served in beautiful cups. One moment there had been empty floor, the next, furniture and a tea set that poured itself. Kenji¡¯s chair was nice and plush, while the dragon¡¯s seemed to be composed of solid gold worked to resemble intertwining serpents. However, aside from that momentary interruption, the discussion on the construction of the servers and the system governing the games continued unabated. Eventually, the conversation shifted. ¡°So, human, what is your name?¡± ¡°Ikeda Kenji. You can call me Kenji, or Ken if you want.¡± ¡°Kenji. Very well, I will remember your name.¡± Kragathor said this as if it was of vast significance, although Kenji didn¡¯t understand the importance. ¡°So, Kenji. Tell me of how you came to this world. I am curious now to hear your story.¡± Kenji sighed, and leaned back a bit. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I¡¯m much of a storyteller, but I¡¯ll do my best. ¡°I grew up in a kind of odd situation. My mother was a Japanese-American, and my dad was a full-blooded Japanese. Wait, these terms probably won¡¯t make any sense to you.¡± The dragon shook his head. ¡°Continue anyways. I will get clarification later.¡± ¡°Okay. Well, I was their only kid, and we moved back and forth between Japan and the US like eight or nine times during my childhood for my father¡¯s work. So, I kind of grew up halfway between the two cultures but never really a part of either. I never really made any lasting friends because we kept relocating, so I spent most of my free time on video games, comics, manga, light novels, basically anything to keep me entertained. ¡°Then Dad¡¯s company collapsed during a recession. I was sixteen, then. He¡¯d been working there twenty years, and he took it real hard. We were living in the States at the time too, in Texas. He spent a long time looking for work, and it was really hard on him, I guess, being away from the rest of his family and watching his savings just draining away while he was unable to provide for us. But he would never talk about it, and I guess it just ate away at him until he couldn¡¯t handle it and he killed himself. Mom came home one day and found him just hanging there. ¡°Things just got worse from there. We lost the house and the cars that we could no longer afford. Mom had dropped out of college to marry him and had been a housewife for the last eighteen years, so when she got a job, the best she could manage was minimum wage service industry crap. She tried to support me as best she could, but things were rough. ¡°Instead of going to some fancy university like I¡¯d originally planned, I ended up in a community college, working to pay tuition alongside taking classes. Luckily, I didn¡¯t have to pay too much due to financial aid stuff. Managed to get a computer science degree and got a job as an entry level programmer.¡± Kenji paused briefly. ¡°Then Mom died. Hit by a drunk driver when she was walking back to our apartment after a shift. So, I kind of just buried myself in my hobbies after her funeral. A lot easier than facing the real world where my parents were dead, and I was a mediocre, at best, programmer with no friends. ¡°Then one day, instead of waking up on my couch where I¡¯d just collapsed the night before without even bothering to take off my shoes, I wake up in a forest. I freak out for a few minutes, but then I¡¯m all like ¡®Nah, this can¡¯t be real, it has to be a dream.¡¯ So, I start exploring. I¡¯m totally fascinated by this forest which is so unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen. It was like the redwoods or the sequoia forests, but the trees looked ¡ª I still can¡¯t really explain it properly ¡ª they just looked different. So, I¡¯m tromping around these strange woods without a care in the world, staring at all these weird and crazy birds and flying reptile things and other animals that made me wonder if I was actually just tripping balls¡­The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°But it just keeps going. And I start to doubt it¡¯s actually a dream. I get tired and hungry and thirsty, my feet are starting to get sore, and I start to fucking panic. I start to realize I¡¯m in the middle of some crazy ass forest for real. I¡¯d be lying if I claimed I didn¡¯t just break down right there and bawl my eyes out. ¡°But then that nerdy part of me that loves to read trashy isekai mangas and light novels perks right up and is all like ¡®Wait a fucking minute, bro! We¡¯re in a goddamn isekai adventure! OP skills and harem, here we fucking come!¡¯ Obviously, I was totally fucking wrong, but that bout of optimism carried me through the day, and even the first night when I slept under a bunch of fallen branches, curled up between the roots of one of the trees. ¡°Then I woke up, sore as shit, and all that bluster from the day before was gone. I was hungry. I was thirsty. And I was lost in the fucking woods. The closest I¡¯d ever come to a forest was a road trip we went on once, when my mom drove us from San Francisco up to Oregon to stay at a neat villa on the coast for a weekend, and we passed through the Redwood Forest. Magnificent place, but you don¡¯t learn much about forestry when you¡¯re in a car going 70 miles an hour. I was a city boy with no survival skills to speak of, and no OP skills or menus or anything to show for my isekai adventure. ¡°Queue breakdown number two. Lucky for me, I am not a very manly crier. I sobbed and wailed and generally scared off the wildlife. And that¡¯s how I got found by some woodsman dude with a beard to make Grizzly Adams proud. Crying like a little bitch. ¡°Dude got me calmed down, gave me some food and water, and led me to civilization, even though neither of us could speak a language the other understood. Two weeks he watched after me as he led me through those woods to a town. He was a real stand up kind of guy. He left me with some guardsmen at the closest town, and I never saw or heard from him again. ¡°Then the real shit-show started. Nobody could understand me when I spoke. I couldn¡¯t understand them. Aside from being considered a curiosity for half a day by the guards, as they brought in some people to speak at me in a bunch of languages I didn¡¯t understand, they just pushed me out onto the street and ignored me and probably decided I was crazy. The next few months sucked. I was basically a beggar. I occasionally managed to get work doing really simple labor, but I couldn¡¯t speak the language and they ripped me off as often as not. ¡°I mean, I was starting to pick up really common words and phrases ¡ª it¡¯s kind of hard not to when you¡¯re fully immersed ¡ª but I could barely function. I had started to consider following in dear old Dad¡¯s footsteps. I couldn¡¯t even get excited about seeing dwarves and elves and gnomes and all kinds of crazy shit because I was fucking miserable and sleeping in an alleyway. ¡°Then I met Randell. That¡¯s the guy you killed, which, by the way, I am really fucking upset about. Anyways, other than Mister Woodsman, he was the first person to really treat me with kindness. He gave me some coin to help him carry some of his purchases one day. When he noticed that I could barely speak the language, he tried speaking to me in half a dozen different languages. Obviously, I couldn¡¯t understand anything he said, and told him so in English. Then again in Japanese for emphasis. ¡°He didn¡¯t understand me either, but I guess I piqued his curiosity. He came back the next day and gave me some coins to carry his shopping for him. He could have easily done it himself. But the whole way he would point at things and say the word for them. Then he¡¯d point at me until I repeated it. ¡°And he kept coming back, every day, without fail, slowly teaching me the language. Then, one day, he paid me to carry a cot back to his house and told me I could stay with him while I learned. Shit, I really didn¡¯t do right by him in the end¡­¡± Kenji stopped for a few minutes to wipe away tears. ¡°Shit. Anyway, once I¡¯d learned enough to do so, I told him my story, as best as I could. He was fascinated. He didn¡¯t doubt me for a moment. He had me tell him as much as I could about my home world in my broken Corrigan Trade. Then he told me about his life, becoming a songster and storyteller and occasional swindler. He could play and sing like a true pro and had this way of just grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. ¡°Then he showed me magic. He wasn¡¯t a great mage by any counts, but he had studied enough to be able to do simple spells. Just the simple stuff that a stage entertainer uses to liven up their act. Then he offered to teach me. And for the first time in months, it hit me that I really was in a magical world. I hate to make it sound like a running theme here, but I broke down and cried again. This place had magic. And I was going to learn it. ¡°I¡¯ll spare you the details, but it turns out I am absolutely shit at casting spells. Randell theorized that maybe it was because I came from another world, I don¡¯t know. I could say the incantations perfectly and throw all my concentration into visualizing the effect and get jack shit. ¡°The only thing I did show aptitude for was enchanting. Randell, being the standup guy that he is¡­ was. Ugh. Anyway, he got me an introduction to this old gnomish guy, Locktin Wizzlefidget. Anyways, this guy was a brilliant enchanter. He had just started teaching his daughter how it worked, and Randell sweet-talked him into letting me learn alongside her. Damn, those were the days. Randell could talk just about anyone into just about anything. ¡°Anyways, the old gnome, I always just called him Lock, he started teaching me enchanting. And that was a struggle in itself, since I couldn¡¯t read. But old Lock was patient with me. I wasn¡¯t a slow learner or anything. I was fluent in English and Japanese from my old world, and the written language here is a hell of a lot simpler than the mess that English can be. Except the runes were yet another mishmash of languages to add on top of that and no two enchanters would agree on which rune was best for a particular purpose. I was having moderate success, but it was a mess. ¡°So, I started experimenting. English letters and Japanese katakana and hiragana didn¡¯t work, just like Corrigan Trade didn¡¯t. The symbols have no inherent meaning, they¡¯re just sounds. But kanji did. As I got used to the way the runes worked, I was able to recreate the same effects, mostly, with kanji instead of the original runes. Then I tried making up a symbol, and it worked a little bit. Which meant that as long as the symbol had a clear meaning to the enchanter, then it would retain that meaning as a rune. ¡°I shared my results with Lock, and he was kind of dismissive of the idea at first. Then his daughter, Levercog, she went and tried it herself, making an enchantment using scribbled doodles as her runes, totally proving me right. ¡°I was still missing the harem, but I was finally getting my OP magic skills, I thought. But nope. I could only produce relatively weak items in a reasonable amount of time. However, the kanji runes I was creating allowed for a much greater degree of flexibility in items. ¡°I did become a little famous among enchanters after that. They called my idea for a universal runic language Kenji¡¯s Kanji. ¡°I continued working with Lock and Levy. Since I could only produce weak effects, I decided to try to make the effects more complex and focused. I had only been a mediocre programmer on Earth, but here? Here I was the best programmer in the world. I was able to create conditional operant runes. Then I figured out how to do procedural calls. I spent months upon months using my kanji rune script to recreate object-oriented programming, figuring out how to make variables work, all kinds of stuff. ¡°They thought I had lost it until I showed them my first piece of work. It was this flat copper tile with four lines etched into it, and I¡¯d programmed it to play Tic-Tac-Toe against the user. It always used the most optimal move, and so it would either win or force a draw every time. They didn¡¯t get it until I taught them the game, but once they got it, they really got it. ¡°Old Lock started getting in touch with some of his contacts. Randell, when he heard about it, started getting in touch with his. He stopped performing entirely to help us arrange things and spread word of the things we¡¯d made. Soon, I had a bunch of enchanters wanting to work with me. I could still barely make a functioning light rune that was bright enough to read by, but I could design the shit out of some complex rune scripts. I would teach them the meanings of the individual runes, and present them with the scripts, and they would do the actual enchanting for me. ¡°Shit. Those were crazy days. We experimented with all kinds of unbelievable stuff. We even poked a bunch of holes in reality just to take a peek at the other side. Admittedly, I was hoping to find my way home with those experiments. I must have run that particular experiment ten thousand times. Every time, I saw something different. Never anything like my home. Ironically, the Ciro server was the closest one I ever found, well after I¡¯d given up, but that place is a horror show compared to Earth. ¡°Anyways, we came up with all sorts of truly crazy stuff in those days. That was about the time I met Stefano and Talon. ¡°Talon is one of the Scaled Kin, but he¡¯s not real close with his clan. He kind of traded on his semi-draconic nature to lead people into thinking he was good with money and making other people money. He was, but his sell was always ¡®I¡¯m part dragon, I can smell where the gold will be.¡¯ Total bullshit. But they ate it up. He only ever acted like that with investors though. He came to us by way of Randell, and he started investing gold into our little group. Letting us buy the best supplies to make the coolest and craziest shit we could. And people would just buy it because there was literally nothing else like it. ¡°Stefano¡­ he was an adequate enchanter, and had gotten mixed in with our group, but he was in way over his head with the enchanting stuff. These folks were some of the best, and he was just out of his league. So, he just started helping out and organizing things. Making things run smoother. Turns out, he had a real talent for it. Everyone started to rely on him to manage schedules, logistics, all sorts of things. Really made him stand out, you know? He was always very respectful, too. In a way, he kind of reminded me of my dad when he was still the big Japanese business man. Efficient, respectful, always humble. I don¡¯t know, I suppose that¡¯s why I liked the guy so much. Reminded me of something I¡¯d lost and hadn¡¯t let myself think about in a long time, you know?¡± Kenji cleared his throat and blinked his eyes dry. ¡°So anyways, there we are, this crazy think tank group of enchanters churning out crazy ass inventions, when I get an idea. Why not start up a corporation?¡± Chapter Twenty Three Kenji stopped for a moment. ¡°Oh, wow, I am kind of really hungry. How long have we been at this?¡± Kragathor shrugged. ¡°Less than a day. Would you like some food?¡± ¡°Um, yeah, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± A few moments later, a bowl of hearty stew and a warm loaf of bread appeared on the table in front of Kenji, along with a mug filled with a liquid that smelled of apples and alcohol. ¡°This is a popular dish in Deep Town¡¯s busiest establishment. I hope it is adequate.¡± ¡°Um, thanks.¡± Then under his breath he murmured to himself, ¡°Itadakimasu.¡± Kragathor turned his attention back to the obelisks while Kenji ate. Kenji, rather nervous about the company he was presently in, ate with the best table manners he could. The bread and stew were simple, but surprisingly good. He washed it down with the cider, which was much bubblier than he¡¯d expected. After he polished off the last of the food, he made himself presentable again. ¡°Thank you for waiting.¡± Why are you thanking him? He kidnapped you and stole your entire company. Literally. He killed your friend! Kenji forced down that line of thought and self-recrimination. I am only doing this to survive. I am only doing this to survive. He repeated that thought like a mantra, trying to alleviate the sense of guilt and shame. It didn¡¯t help that talking about his life before and his early years felt strangely therapeutic, like he was unburdening himself to someone who wouldn¡¯t judge him, who was merely listening in order to hear the story told. After all, why would such a powerful being bother to judge someone like him? This story was probably nothing more than a data point to Kragathor, to be filed away and forgotten as another interesting bit of trivia amongst billions of others. ¡°Please, do continue.¡± ¡°Right. So, anyway, I was thinking to myself that we should start up a corporation. The closest things you find here are merchant companies and the houses of the Merchant Nobles. I wanted to create a corporation that would change the face of this world. Bring it together. The core of that corporation would be my friends and myself. Old Lock decided not to join in, said he was too old for something so grand. Levy did, though. As did Talon, Stefano and Randell. ¡°The name was my idea, although that didn¡¯t come about for a bit. But the idea was mine, which was, I guess, my role. I gave the ideas. The others saw them out. We tossed around a bunch of possibilities. Planned them out. We made so many plans. Communications networks. Media. Instantaneous information sharing. Entertainment networks. Things to unite the world. But first we needed something widespread, that would get people to trust our name. Something we could sell for a reasonable price with enough appeal that it would quickly spread. So, I told them about the video games of my world. And as I did so, I recalled the new generation of games that had just been starting to see the light of day, despite being predicted and written about for years, called VRMMO games. Only, in my world it had a somewhat different meaning. ¡°As I thought about how to make an immersive experience, whole new virtual worlds, I recalled my early experiments. All those other worlds that I had spied on. And there, the real idea was born. ¡°We started those experiments back up, searched out worlds filled with violence and turbulence, chaos and uncertainty. After all, who wants to explore a peaceful world? Then we designed a system for projecting avatars into those worlds while remaining in our own. Created a way to interact with those worlds using our magic. Interestingly, we indirectly confirmed Randell¡¯s guess about why I couldn¡¯t incant spells. An object or being from a magical land maintains its magic, even in a land without. The opposite is also true. ¡°So, we made sure the avatars did not have the ability to use magic other than that which was granted to it by the system, even though the avatars themselves are inherently magical manifestations. That was actually one of the trickiest things about that whole process. We designed for each world a system of classes, skills and abilities. We clandestinely recruited people from those worlds to help us understand them and fine tune the player systems to mesh with their world, trading them gold or other things of value. Then we sent in our early testers. Gave these worlds a glimpse of what our people could do. Made arrangements with the powers that be. We fine-tuned our systems and released the Virmo crystals to the public. Randell ¡ªbless that beautiful bastard¡ª took a concept I had told him about long ago, viral marketing, and managed to implement it in a world without universal media. Seeded people in taverns across major cities to spread rumors about it. People were already clamoring for the Virmo units the very day of release. ¡°Right off the bat, we were selling like crazy. We sold the Virmo units for a modest fee and make our real profit in trade from these worlds, importing materials. Meanwhile, they benefit from our players, who act as adventurers, mercenaries, hunters, and delvers of dungeons, incapable of permanent death. It was to be the beginning of a corporate empire that would change the face of this world, and many beyond it. Hopefully for the better. I was hoping to create something that would spread to hundreds, thousands, or even millions of disparate worlds. ¡°Well, those were the plans, anyways. In retrospect, there were cracks in the foundation, and division was beginning to show among those of us who founded the company. Maybe I neglected my friendship with Randell in favor of Stefano, and that¡¯s what led to this whole mess. Maybe I should have listened more to Levy¡¯s concerns of operational security ¡ª concepts I introduced to her, or less to Talon¡¯s worries of gold and profit.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. He sighed. ¡°I suppose those ambitions are gone now.¡±
Kragathor listened to Kenji¡¯s story, his past and his ambitions for the future. He was a rather fascinating specimen. His ambitions were far less short-sighted than he would expect of a mortal. ¡°I suppose those ambitions are gone now.¡± Kenji looked down, his shoulders slumped, seemingly defeated. ¡°Not necessarily.¡± Kragathor¡¯s comment elicited a slight twitch. ¡°Your ideas intrigue me. Even one such as I have not envisioned conquering other worlds, through force, commerce or otherwise. I had no familiarity with such a concept until I encountered your games. I find the idea a sound one, with but one flaw. You have not the time to carry out such a grand plan and see it to its conclusion. You are but a mortal. A brief spark amongst millions of others, no matter how you outshine them. Your span is finite. ¡°But it need not be.¡± The scaly red figure gestured toward the table, drawing Kenji¡¯s eyes to a parchment that had not been there moments ago. ¡°You are a rare talent. And I am nothing if not a collector of rare things. To be able to add entire realities to my collection is a thing that I never even knew to want. Enter my employ. Continue to carry out your ambitions, stretching your reach farther than any imagination can grasp. You may yet find your way home, if you still wish to do so. I will guarantee your health and well-being until you choose to leave, whether it be an hour from now or a hundred thousand years. ¡°You have delivered to me the gift of novelty. A thing I once thought long gone from my life. I am not ungrateful. I offer you the chance to continue your ambitions and see them to their fruition. I offer power, status, and as many years as you wish to see. All I ask in return is to be entertained. Even now, you have the means to see to that for a good while, as one of your limited temporal view would see it.¡± Kenji stared wide-eyed at Kragathor, as if a new bout of fear had taken hold of him. ¡°And if I refuse?¡± Kragathor shrugged. ¡°Then you are no concern of mine. I will allow you to depart in peace, and I will still remain here for eons after your bones have turned to dust.¡± ¡°And what about my employees, and my friends?¡± ¡°They are mine. I have claimed them. You as well, but I give you choice, because creativity is often hampered when coerced. I don¡¯t need their creativity. They are just to continue operating the company as is. However, I am not needlessly cruel. They will still have their freedom to do as they wish when they are not working.¡± ¡°And what gives you the right to just claim them like that?¡± The dragon looked up and appeared to be fighting back laughter. ¡°Right? What is a right and why would I need one? I can either do it or I cannot. I did it. Only one defied my claim, and he was insufficient to stop me from exercising my claim. Were I to desire a kingdom on the surface, I would simply do the same. That I offer you a choice is only because I foresee that your willing cooperation could someday lead to something that I am unable to conceptualize, and such an idea excites me greatly. And if I cannot have that, then you cease to be of consequence to me. ¡°Besides, it is not as if your friends here will be treated poorly. I have created my own subterranean kingdom here, somewhat inadvertently. Deep Thousand itself is no longer much beyond an amusement, a means of entertainment for the citizens of Deep Town and myself and even the so-called adventurers who throw themselves at it with more enthusiasm than skill. My little kingdom is prosperous. None want for anything that they cannot achieve. Luxuries are earned through work, and they all do love their luxuries. None starve or go without a home. Crime is rare and, to my understanding, harshly dealt with. ¡°You know, with Deep Thousand no longer serving much of a purpose, I might as well reveal this nation to the world. Especially now that we are home to such an illustrious company. I suppose I might need to claim Millen as well.¡± Kenji stared incredulously as Kragathor calmly mused about annexing an entire city and changing the geopolitical landscape of the world. Kragathor watched Kenji as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.
Kenji beat his fears back down as Kragathor made his offer, and even spoke of opening his nation up to the world. The imagery before him though still made him incredibly anxious and wary. Sure, Kragathor didn¡¯t quite look like the popular portrayal of a demon or devil, but it was close enough. The contract, the crimson scales, the tail, claws and even horns ¡ªwhich weren¡¯t devil¡¯s horns or even ram¡¯s horns at all and more like serrated bone knives but were still horns¡ª all were reminiscent of the concept from his old world of a deal with a devil. A bargain with an ancient power of ambiguous morality. A contract with the creature who killed his friend. By all means, he should reject it and flee from this place. That would be the smart thing to do. Flee and never look back. Maybe even flee to another reality entirely. He could do that now. But¡­ But Kenji couldn¡¯t help but feel enticed by the offer. Here, right now, before him lay the means to gain everything he had originally thought he¡¯d find in this world, at last. Well, he had eventually managed to acquire most of it through his own efforts, except for overpowering combat abilities and a harem. There was no hope of the former, and he¡¯d been too caught up in things to even chase after a relationship with one woman, much less multiple women. Really, he¡¯d always thought of that concept as more of a joke anyways. Not even something worth seriously considering if obtainable. He just wasn¡¯t that kind of guy. He could always refuse the deal, leave and start over. He was only in his early thirties. His thirties¡­ Well, he debunked the thing about becoming a wizard at thirty¡­ Or did he? Was an enchanter a wizard? Even if he didn¡¯t do enchanting on his own? Kenji banished those stray thoughts from his head. Clearly, he was having a difficult time thinking straight. Maybe that¡¯s why he was seriously considering the offer. Even if it was a betrayal of Randell. But hadn¡¯t he already betrayed Randell before all this? He¡¯d neglected his friend with the excuse of being focused on the company, listened more to Stefano just because he reminded him of his father. Maybe with Kragathor¡¯s help he could one day find some way to go back and right things. Anything seemed possible with magic and the dragon¡¯s overwhelming might and vast intellect. He closed his eyes and thought hard. Could he? Should he? Could he afford not to? I¡¯m sorry, Randell. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll do it.¡± Even filled with regret over betraying the memory of his friend who was dead less than a day, he was brimming with excitement. And he hated himself for it. Chapter Twenty Four Kragathor settled onto his third favorite pile of gold, taking a moment to enjoy listening to the soothing tinkle and clinging of shifting coins. With Kenji¡¯s cooperation, the processing of the employees and board members into minion contracts was going smoothly, with generous benefits negotiated by Kenji on the others¡¯ behalf. The game accounts had been fully reinstated by Kenji as soon as he got to a console. Bloodied Talon, the Scaled One ¡ªa race that Kragathor had not encountered before¡ª was practically falling over himself in trying to throw extra benefits and abilities at Kragathor¡¯s account. Kragathor and, surprisingly, Kenji both shot the idea down. Kragathor was enjoying his jaunts in the otherworld as a totally mundane being whose only strength came from his fancy toys. He hadn¡¯t expected Kenji to lay down more or less the exact reasoning without having had it explained to him first. Kenji had suggested that Stefano Mayers and Bloodied Talon take up advisory roles if Kragathor decided to reveal the existence of Deep Town to the rest of the world. They would need to move on that within days, as news of the Virmo Corporation¡¯s disappearance would spread rapidly. Kragathor had arranged for them to meet up with Shifty, who was largely responsible for much of Deep Thousand¡¯s interactions with the world outside its confines, which had been rather minimal until this point. Temporary housing had been set up on the edge of Deep Town for the newly acquired company¡¯s staff. Deep Town itself was in festive spirits as the residents warmly welcomed the newcomers into the fold. After all, even if they hadn¡¯t come willingly, all who served the Supreme Tyrant of Indulgence were a part of the minion family. That was all well and good, but Kragathor really wanted to get back to playing his game. He hadn¡¯t even had a chance to really decide what he wanted for his second class. He had spent the night before finding his account was locked out narrowing the list down to two choices. The idea of Drone Operator was even more intriguing than it had previously been, now that he had more context on what drones were. However, there was also the Scrapper. It was a class focused on technological component recovery and improvisational engineering. It was an interesting concept for him to explore. He knew he would eventually have both classes, but he didn¡¯t know which one he wanted to have right now. It was a refreshing dilemma. It would be a few more hours until the normal log in time for his group, so he would just do research for now while he pondered the direction to take. He logged into Ciro and pulled up the WIK.
Kenji settled down in his office. He still didn¡¯t know if he had made the right choice. However, for now, he would play along. He owed it to his friends and the employees of the company. He poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey from a decanter; he didn¡¯t often drink, but now seemed like the perfect time. He had told Kragathor nearly everything. Nearly.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Perhaps the dragon really would operate in good faith? After all, he had a demonstrable lack of need for underhanded scheming. Perhaps not. Either way, Kenji would look out for his people. He¡¯d already helped them out by negotiating very favorable terms in their ¡®minion contracts,¡¯ as the locals termed it. Kenji had been surprised that Kragathor was so amenable to the idea of treating his employees well. The dragon had said they¡¯d be treated well, but Kenji had doubted that such a being would really know the difference. However, even the original minion contracts were hardly unfavorable. In the hours since his talks with his new patron, he had met all sorts of fantastical creatures, some of which were downright frightening to behold. All of them seemed very excited to meet him and were rather welcoming in their own strange ways. He¡¯d never done any adventuring, so most of them he had only heard about in stories. These beings all seemed in awe of the fact that he would be working directly with the dragon, whom they referred to by many different titles. It was rather confusing at first, until he realized that anything which didn¡¯t seem to be an actual name was referring to Kragathor. Bloodied Talon was on his way to meet up with the Grand Patriarch of the Scaled Ones, to secure their recognition of Deep Thousand as an independent state. Their clan had a great deal of political clout amongst the nations, mostly because there were few forces that could stand up to the Grand Patriarch. It was doubtful that other nations would take Kragathor seriously unless he showed himself, but the ancient dragon seemed quite content to return to his game and leave everything to his minions.
Shifty had spent a great deal of his time with gritted teeth, a fake smile plastered on his fake face. He would do as the Godscourge wished but working together with normal humanoids was infuriating. They didn¡¯t even understand simple concepts like culling the weak from your own population, or that Doppelgangers were inherently superior to the transformationally challenged. Worse, to keep the glorified livestock calm, he had to wear their visage, since they found his normal form ¡®unsettling¡¯ and ¡®horrifying to behold.¡¯ The only upside to the recent acquisition of the Virmo Company was that Virmo units were being offered freely to the citizens of Deep Town. If the Grand Exterminator enjoyed playing them, there must be some merit to the concept. Shifty was eager to try it out for himself. He¡¯d been a bit skeptical at first, but if the Woe Bringer himself was actually enjoying them, Shifty would have to take the concept seriously. Which was why Shifty was sitting in a comfortable chair at home, holding his very own Virmo crystal, tied to the server of Hoxland. If rumors were to be believed, it had been Kragathor¡¯s second choice for server to play on. Besides, even if he was only murdering imaginary people, it would still feel like murder, right? It was said that these games felt as real as the real thing. Shifty settled back into his chair and spoke the command from the manual. ¡°Virmo, Activate.¡± Glossary of Terms Remote Reactors: Devices used to generate and broadcast power to any number of devices, up to their certified wattage limit. Links: Assistive computer devices, designed to act as interfaces for controlling other devices. A Link may connect to one device for each available Channel, and can manage devices within their Bandwidth tier. Links can also be specialized for certain tasks, such as the semi-legal IntruderLinks, which exploit software and network vulnerabilities in targeted devices and interfere with or even subvert their general functions. Portable Shields: Portable shields are on-demand barricades. The most common models use a combination of non-newtonian ferrofluid and polyceramic plates, and can stop most small arms fire. Basic Industries: A corporation well known for producing rugged, bare-bones, no-frills devices for whatever market has the demand. They hold a trademark on the use of the word basic in product names.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. IFF: Identify Friend or Foe. Targeting software intended to help discriminate between friendly, neutral and hostile targets. Deviation: Deviation from norm. Expressed as B/M where B is the number of biological augmentations and M is the number of mechanical or cybernetic augmentations. 0/0 Represents standard human. When M is greater than 8, the subject is considered a cyborg. A B of 6 or greater classifies the subject as an enhanced human, where as a B of 15 is considered post-human. Turret: Automated weapon emplacement. Targets independently of user, but uses IFF data from owner¡¯s Link for target discrimination. Normally have no on board power source or batteries, drawing energy from a remote reactor instead. This design decision was settled on after the first generation of turrets became popular targets for snipers, causing secondary explosions when their power stores were ruptured. Buckshot: A type of ammunition which is made up of a grouping of pellets which begin to spread out as they are fired. Slugs: A single, heavy projectile. Chapter Twenty Five
Ciro Virmo Patch Notes Version 1.1 Multi-class system overhaul: ¡ð Two classes may be active at a time. Expands to three at overall character level 100. Switching out active classes may only be done in Green Zones. ¡ð Class specific items that share the same equip slot do not stack, although specialized versions may be built integrating functions used by both classes. Some equipment is already cross-class compatible. ¡ð Active classes will evenly split their XP by default. XP split can be modified via settings to favor one class over the other, at up to a 9:1 ratio Grenadier class changes: ¡ð Big Blast ability impact reduced from 20% to 12% ¡ð Arced Shot ability impact reduced from 30% to 20% Bug fixes: ¡ð Fixed issue that in rare cases caused levels to be lost when speaking to Quest NPCs ¡ð Fixed issue that kept some players locked in Quest NPC dialog visualization ¡ð Fixed issue with some items failing to register with inventory Known issues: ¡ð Some Biological Augments are lost upon respawn after death. ¡ð Splicer pets not automatically returning to inventory on log out
Bob read the patch notes that popped up as he logged in. Apparently, at some point since his last login, the server had been updated with a change to certain system rules. Probably not long before he claimed the company as his own. He hadn¡¯t delved too deep into the game¡¯s governing systems, as he wanted to explore that information from within the framework of game rules that constrained him during his visits to the Otherworld. He had stayed away from talking about them with Kenji, who had been rather eager to go over all the little technical details of his creations. Perhaps someday he would visit it without the filtering lens of the Virmo crystal, but not until long after he had exhausted the bounty of new experiences to be had as a player. Bob brought up the WIK to scrutinize his potential class choices once more. The change brought about by the patch was forcing him to think about the options in a different light. Which two classes would best synergize by being active together? He ran through numerous scenarios in his mind, each one coming back with the same conclusion. Scrapper would be his best bet, when paired with Combat Engineer. Enhanced repairs and on the fly modifications to his turrets just screamed to be taken over the class that would eat up his available Link channels in order to field drones. He¡¯d actually been leaning toward the Drone Operator class based on the old multi-classing system, but the new one made Scrapper the obvious choice. It would also pair well with Drone Operator when he eventually took it. He went over to the class trainer for the Scrapper, which was styled to look like a woman wearing light armor decorated with various tool pouches and unidentifiable technological accessories. ¡°Greetings, Bob! Welcome back,¡± the NPC said. ¡°It looks like you are ready to pick up your second class. Did you want to hear the details of the Scrapper class?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Do you wish to pick Scrapper as your newest class?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Yes.¡± <
Buzz logged in and was practically bouncing with excitement, not even taking a moment to read the patch notes. He had a theory to test, now that he was able to get back in the game. He hadn¡¯t quite realized how much he enjoyed the game and its intricate world until he¡¯d lost access to it. Well, the game and the presence of that woman with the divinely musical voice. What Buzz wouldn¡¯t give to hear her sing, or maybe even scream. Almost as much as he¡¯d give to never hear Chunk¡¯s hateful rasp ever again. He momentarily pondered finding the ogre some night and ensuring that he never woke up again. A strong paralytic to keep the patient immobile, and a harsh corrosive to pour down that gravel-gargling throat. Ah, but then that might displease the Incarnation of Rage. Best to just bear with it for the time being. Since he was logging in earlier than the usual time, he headed off to the PC building after briefly picking up his second class. Buzz was not particularly fond of FarShot¡¯s brother, but he had to admit the boy had a good idea for shortening those terribly long location names. Some minutes of distracted walking later, he reached his destination, and closed the WIK articles he¡¯d been browsing. He walked right into the bio-lab and up to the gene template library, picking out a few reference templates for about half of his rather low credit balance. Now that he had everything necessary to test his theory, he headed over to a genetic sequencer workstation, and loaded up the samples he had for comparative testing. The testing would take some time, so he busied himself with preparing things for his secondary class.
Morphiest lounged in her apartment, enjoying herself as the real Chunk busied himself with dusting her shelves of literature. It was a shame he wasn¡¯t suited for anything beyond dusting areas without anything he could accidentally knock over and scrubbing the floors and facilities; he was simply too clumsy. She enjoyed watching the ogre moving to and fro in a vastly over-sized cleaning woman¡¯s dress. She¡¯d taken to making him wear dresses anytime he was not working in the upper levels of the labyrinth. Partially to maintain the ruse for Buzz, if the creepy little gnome ever ran into the ogre, and partially to try to embarrass the ogre. However, the ogre seemed too dense for the concept of shame. Either that or he actually liked the dresses. Or perhaps her grasp of ogre cultural norms was even more frail than she thought. Damn, she thought, I really should study up on them to keep up the ruse. It was almost time to log back in, after the disruptions of the account lockout and the claiming of the Virmo Company. She¡¯d been considering the Wise Tyrant¡¯s words as she pondered the secondary class for the game. Ranged weapon and finesse oriented classes were right out. She needed something that was all about the smash. Something uncomplicated and straightforward. She really should have looked into the other available classes before logging out. Chapter Twenty Six Bob left messages for the rest of the group to meet him outside the PA building. Buzz was the first one to show up, and he seemed to be bouncing around with some excitement. ¡°Hi Bob! I got the Splicer class! Abyss, this genetics thing is super interesting. I¡¯m going to have to do some more research in our downtime. Did you know that our avatars aren¡¯t actually real flesh? Everything else is, except players. Well, I haven¡¯t tested the quest NPCs either¡­ But still!¡± ¡°That¡¯s neat, Buzz. Splicer, wasn¡¯t that some kind of animal taming class?¡± ¡°So much more than that! They alter the fundamental building blocks of life to design their companions! Which, by the way, is how I think those ¡®mutant rats¡¯ came about. They¡¯re a near seamless blending of rodent and insect, primarily drawing from rats and ants. Definitely not a random mutation, they were designed. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ve got my first companion. I¡¯m only supposed to bring it out in a lab or outside the green zone. It¡¯s not much to look at yet, anyways, but it can fly.¡± ¡°That¡¯s neat, Buzz. Do you know what Chunk is picking up?¡± Buzz grimaced a bit at the thought of their companion. ¡°No. Probably something dumb that they didn¡¯t think through.¡± Bob shrugged. ¡°Well, if she hasn¡¯t made a decision yet, I have some suggestions. So, what all can this pet of yours do?¡± Buzz proceeded to tell Bob virtually everything about his new pet, and only stopped when FarShot and ShadowRunner showed up. ¡°Hey guys! Where were you? We didn¡¯t see you logged on yesterday, and didn¡¯t see any messages or anything. Something happen?¡± ShadowRunner asked. ¡°We had a mutual acquaintance that needed urgent assistance in relocating. Sorry, should have logged in for a moment to send you a message,¡± Bob said. ¡°Oh. No worries. We found a random group to do a few requests with in the tunnels. They kind of sucked, though. At least we got a couple levels for our new classes.¡± ¡°Oh, what¡¯d you pick?¡± Buzz asked. ¡°I picked Scout. It gave me some good sensors for picking up enemies further away, and I¡¯ve heard that I might be able to use it and Marksman to get access to an advanced class further down the line,¡± said FarShot. ShadowRunner grinned and chuckled a little maniacally. ¡°I picked Demolitionist. So now I can blow up even more stuff! So if we find another Drone Lair I can pretty much deal with it alone, using some of my new toys. It¡¯s going to be awesome! What about you guys?¡± ¡°I picked Scrapper. Buzz picked Splicer. We¡¯re waiting on Chunk to show up to see what she got.¡± They stood there for several minutes, discussing their new classes, and how they¡¯d work together, as well as the recent patch changes. After some time, Chunk approached the group, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°So, Chunk, what class did you pick?¡± ShadowRunner asked. ¡°Uh¡­ Chunk not know what to pick! Chunk think so hard, but Chunk not find answer! Chunk so sorry!¡± Bob sighed. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Chunk. Go with Grenadier. I know it will be a little weird for you, but it is going to open up worlds of smash to you that you never even knew was possible.¡± Chunk perked up when she heard that. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Really. Didn¡¯t you know that a grenade smashes everything around it when it goes off? And with a grenade launcher you can smash from far away, without having to worry too much about missing.¡± Chunk disappeared into the PA building to get her class training. While she was gone, Bob explained the choice to the others. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for the patch, I might have steered Chunk toward a different class. However, having her be able to act as a shield wall while laying down serious area of effect fire¡­ Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a good mix with our current party.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The other three muttered in agreement as they considered his reasoning. ¡°So, are we going to do more yellow zone requests, or are we going to venture into the orange zone?¡± ShadowRunner asked hopefully. ¡°Well¡­ I would like to spend a day or so down in the tunnels. Mostly to compare our current abilities with how we were previously. After that, we can consider venturing into the orange zone. From my research, it sound like the danger levels can vary from similar to the tunnels, to much worse. Lots more mutants out there with a wider variety, as well as sturdier rogue drones, toxic storms, and some areas that are just plain poisonous to be in. We should probably use whatever we earn today to equip ourselves with that in mind.¡± ¡°That makes sense, Bob. I think we should go with that,¡± said FarShot. ShadowRunner pouted. ¡°Yeah, I just really wanted to see what the orange zone is like. I heard they used to live out there before some kind of calamity, so there¡¯s a ton of ruins, mutant forests, and all kinds of crazy shit.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Shadow, I¡¯m sure Bob just wants us to familiarize ourselves with our new classes before we go off and fight a bunch of new enemies in a new environment,¡± said Buzz. Bob nodded in agreement. ¡°It does make sense. Besides, we could use some money to beef up our equipment before going into a more dangerous zone,¡± said FarShot. ShadowRunner nodded in agreement. ¡°I did only have a little bit of money left for spending on my new class¡­¡±
Four hours later and the team was deep within the tunnel system. They¡¯d cleared another tunnel blockage, which was an immature mutant rat nest, then went on to demolish a rogue Drone Lair in its early stages. Chunk¡¯s new grenadier class let them drop an incendiary grenade into the nascent nest from a distance. ShadowRunner had stealthily made his way into the Drone Lair and demolished it thoroughly, which left little for Bob to scavenge. Still, it had not prepared them for their most annoying opponent yet: the mutant cockroaches. They were not especially difficult, but most definitely annoying Even before their class upgrade, they¡¯d seen hundreds of the skittish things and even killed a few of the more aggressive ones. They were hardy creatures, and only FarShot¡¯s rifle could reliably penetrate their thick chitin at significant distances, especially considering the oblique angles at which their shots were striking. Even so, they could take a great deal of punishment before expiring, capable of surviving for hours even after losing their head. One of the requests they¡¯d picked up was to clear out a mutant roach infestation under the industrial district. As it turned out, the normally skittish roaches became fiercely territorial around their nests. As the group approached the nest site, they were charged by hissing roaches. Chunk broke up the occasional wave with a grenade being put down range. More than a few times she had to switch back to her club to smash any of the bugs that got too close. Luckily, the mutant roaches seemed to lack even the little bit of strategy the rats had displayed, and swarmed at the group piecemeal rather than in large waves, so the group was proceeding forward at an unsteady slog rather than sitting behind Bob¡¯s fortified defenses and allowing the waves of enemies to break on their defenses. Buzz was finally making real use of his Medic abilities, applying rapid treatment to the wounds caused by the cockroaches bites and the lacerations from their spiky legs. His new pet also finally made its appearance. It looked like an over-sized wasp, approximately a foot and a half long with vibrant yellow and red stripes. It would swoop down on the roaches, pick one up and begin jabbing it with stinger while still in midair on its loudly thrumming wings. ¡°Hey, Buzz, what happens if your pet dies?¡± Bob asked during a lull in the fighting as the Medic moved to loot the battlefield. ¡°I¡¯ve got a couple dormant spares in my inventory. I need to get an upgraded Bio-Link so I can control more of them, since right now I¡¯m limited to one at a time. For now, if one dies I just deploy the next. Until I start getting more intelligent pets that are capable of learning and responding to more complex commands, these guys are basically expendable. I should be able to get most of their bio-mass back if they die as well. Once I learn more about this whole genetics thing, I should be able to tinker with and customize them even further. Some of the stuff I¡¯ve come across hints that I¡¯ll be able to augment them with tech implants as well.¡± ¡°That¡¯s neat, kind of like my turrets, but organic. I wonder if I¡¯d be able to do the opposite? Augmenting the technology with biological components. Once we¡¯re more knowledgeable we should try collaborating on some creations.¡± The two continued their discussion of the technicalities of their respective professions well through the next two waves. Their conversation ended as they discovered the source of the cockroach infestation. Before them lay a corridor filled with fist sized eggs, teeming with cockroach nymphs of varying sizes. ¡°Chunk, care to do the honors of burning this shit down?¡± FarShot asked. ¡°Chunk be happy to,¡± she replied, throwing an incendiary grenade into the midst of the nest. The grenade exploded with a bright flash of heat and flames, but the fire did not spread from the point of detonation. ShadowRunner sighed. ¡°Explosives time, Miss Chunk.¡± Chunk sighed and made sure her grenade launcher was loaded with high explosive rounds. ¡°Huh. I suppose this sort of situation is what that ¡®flamethrower¡¯ weapon in the shop was made for¡­¡± Buzz mused.