《Magic Meets Reality; A VRMMORPG Novel》 Prologue: Fleeing From Fire Explosions filled the air, sending many of the young children seeking the few adults for comfort. The large room shook slightly, the northernmost wall growing several small cracks, dropping shattered stone to the floor. The few adults looked at each other with panic clear on their faces, despite their efforts to hide their fear from the children. Near the tail end of the crowd of children stood a tall, yet young looking teenager, white hair and furred ears ruffled by the far too short pat from his mother. She leaned in, giving him a short kiss on the cheek, before speaking her last words. ¡°Goodbye, Bast. You must stay strong, and never lose hope, nor your smile. Smile for me, my son, as I leave you now. Smile for the hope that tomorrow will bring prosperity and joy.¡± Ever the loyal son, Bast forced a smile on his face, even as silent tears flowed down his cheeks. A small sniffle escaped him as he watched his mother disappeared up the stairs, returning to the fight he had been denied, a fight none would return from. Though he wore the metal armor and weapons of his kind, battle magics ready in mind, he had been denied his right to defend his people to his last breath. The words of the Lord Errant left a lump fear and hopelessness deep in his stomach, his knees barely kept from shaking. The fear warred with his willpower, threatening to turn the silent tears into fully fledged sobs. Yet he kept his calm, years of training keeping him together, if just barely. He had to stay calm, for the children, and for himself. Threatened once again by the human Templars, they would be forced to flee, but this time, there were few places to retreat, and not nearly enough room for everyone. And the realization made reality all that more cruel, as he wished desperately to give his place to another, and join in the last defense of his home, but there was no choice. There must be young warriors in those that were hidden, capable of both birthing and training the next generations. For there would be no glorious return, not without the force of arms necessary to force through the Templar¡¯s Iron Wall, and make themselves known to humanity once again. With a wipe of his sleeve, Bast stirred up his remaining courage, and stepped into the small pentagram that was now vacated, its previous occupant sent to what was hoped to be the most secretive place possible. And that place was the very Earth we longed to return to. Though he did not know how this was possible, he had been informed that a human guide would await him, and explain all. The worry of whether a human could be trusted just added more fuel to the unease that filled him, but with a flash, and the feeling of the floor ripped from beneath him, Bast found himself in a white world, one that slowly bled colors from the corners, turning the white room into a grey, jail-like room, one with only a single door, a chair, and a large, silver dome. In the chair sat the promised human guide. With a final sniff, Bast finally readied himself for what was to come. The memories of the past were forced into a corner of his mind, for now was the time of action, and of caution. His hand moved to his sword hilt as he eyed the human, waiting for the man to make the first move. Whether blood would stain the grey floors would be left up to the human. Bast prayed the man gave him any reason to justify his death, for a sickening anger filled him, the sight of so many dead companions still eerily fresh in his mind. But no, he must obey the Lord Errant. He must obey this !human!, so long as he proved trustworthy. If such a thing were possible for the filthy creatures. Unfortunately, the man gave no sign of aggression, his hands held out placatingly, his face a sad grimace, one with a few tears of its own. The expression somewhat disarmed Bast, his own tears still fresh on his face. The human spoke quietly, almost whispering. ¡°Hello, Bast. I am sorry. Truly I am. And I wish I could give you the time you deserve to calm yourself, but this place is not safe.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The boy nodded dully, tears returning again despite his efforts to remain calm and collected. The man stood, and though Bast relaxed, his hand stayed near his sword, and a chant on his tongue, ready to unleash his fury in an instant. ¡°Before we send you onward, I must explain several things. As you know, we are on Earth. However, that is not where you will be staying. It is a bit complicated, but you will be placed in a location built by humanity, a realm for their entertainment. None of the world is real, only those humans entering the realm being genuine, living beings. It is a place for the militant to practice their skills, to relax, and to satiate that hidden urge to battle, and to claim victory. Do you understand me so far?¡± Again, Bast responded with just a nod. The man let out a tired sigh, before continuing. ¡°This realm has many rules that differ from the ones you are familiar with, but when you first enter, a guide, calling themselves the Tutorial Master, will brief you on the basics. You will be able to ask them questions about the realm, and you must, for there are many rules inside, ones that the Tutorial Master will assume you already understand, lest you ask about them. Again, do your best to gain as much knowledge as possible during the time you spend with the Master. Lastly, we must discuss who you are now. Bast Lithbraen¡®aela Feryr, you are now Bast Robertson. You are human, and have lived your whole life in a place called Armyr, and understand neither the rules of society, nor the ways of their magics and technology. You must NEVER reveal your true identity to anyone other than one COMPLETELY proven to be one of us, and only then in the most dire of circumstances. Do you have all of that? Repeat it back to me, please.¡± The man was long-winded, and there was much to remember, but Bast recalled all that was deemed vital, the man nodding again, a small smile replacing his tired expression. ¡°Good job, Bast. We are proud of you. Now, you will be staying in that realm for several days, but you will receive a message from me soon, detailing how and when you will return. Now, we are extremely short on time, and there are many to assist. Please, follow me.¡± With those words, the man stepped up to the silver sphere, tapping its side. A quiet whine issued from the device, and a large section lifted itself, revealing the contents of the hollow sphere. Inside lay a black chair, one with a large helmet floating above, held in place by many thick metal cables. Though Bast did not understand, it was clear where he was to go. With somber steps, he entered the strange contraption, seating himself carefully on the chair. It was soft and plush, something rare to find in his own world. ¡°Now, the helmet is going to place itself upon your head, and soon, you will find yourself in the new realm. Take care, Bast, and please, forgive us for the sins against your people.¡± With those final words, the man placed his hands on the side of the sphere, causing many whirring noises to emanate from the strange metallic innards of the sphere. The lid slowly began to close, the man already leaving the room. Bast kept very still as the helmet descended, adjusting its descent to perfectly align with his head. In moments, it covered him, exposing its strange, smooth interior. A few moments passed, long enough for the boy to grow worried, but soon enough, the world seemed to shift, much like the teleportation to Earth, but instead of bland whiteness, the world turned black, and thick, golden letters appeared before him, declaring in bold script; ¡°Phasmia Online¡±. A new world awaited Bast, one filled with war, treachery, kindness and love. And maybe, just maybe, a world where he could meet his kind again, adrift in the sea of humanity. -End Chapter 1: Tutorial Master The world of black, broken only by the large golden lettering, slowly faded, replaced by a breathtaking scene of lush green hills, mist-covered waterfalls, and floating islands. The sky was barely visible, covered by seemingly endless mountainous land masses. And though the light was dim, like that of late evening, numerous lights emanated from various locations on the many islands, like a thousand full moons, keeping the world from descending into the darkness of dusk. Bast felt himself floating downward on a light breeze, his strangely bare feet planting in soft grass. A glance around revealed that he was on one of the floating islands, the giant landmass like a mountain in the sky, with several large waterfalls flowing off the sides, sparkling in the sun. A cooling breeze blew through his hair, the temperature just barely warm enough for comfort, only a few degrees from chilly. A sigh escaped his lips, white mist billowing out to twist and twirl in the wind, before dissipating into the air. He couldn''t help but wonder at the power of humanity if they could create such worlds for mere entertainment, when his own people had struggled for years to create a single, rather barren world, one that had taken centuries to turn into the luscious forests like thoseback on Earth. Though pleasant, Bast could not bring himself to feel the joy of the world, not as he would have liked to in days passed. Instead, his eyes scanned for dangers, hands searching for a non-existent sword. Frustration at the lack of weaponry, his mind searched for his magic. The power that was so often close at hand felt extremely distant, as if worlds apart, yet with a little reaching... "Greetings, New Player!" A booming voice sent Bast scurrying backward, but his movements felt slow and awkward, causing him to fall on his rear. His eyes searched frantically for the voice, finally settling on a figure flying down from the top of the island he stood upon. At first, the figure seemed rather close, but as it slowly grew bigger as it approached, it became apparent just how large the humanoid being was, as well as how extremely loud it could be, yet in a confounding manner, managing to avoid disturbing even the grass with its powerful shout that had stretched the miles that had spanned the two. Light seemed to pour from the creature in bright, yet calm rays, turning the evening-like morning into the brilliant light of noon. Bast could only get to his feet, staring open-mouthed as the nearly fifty foot tall creature landed before him. The man, if you could call it a man, was an orange-skinned giant, covered in rippling muscle, and strange bead-necklaces that covered his arms, legs, and torso like giant belts covered in those green, spherical explosives that had ripped apart so many of his kind in the last hours. The sight, though obviously dissimilar to the actual weapons in question, still brought up the raw memories, removing any calming effect the environment had given him. Armed with only the tiniest amount of details, Bast opted to wait for the giant to speak first, having no idea how to broach a conversation with the man that seemed to emanate power from his every pore. It opened its massive mouth, letting out a loud, somewhat pompous voice, saying "Welcome, welcome. It is good to see a new face in these parts. It is truly lonely in the Sea of Treasures, the only company new Players like yourself. Ah, but where are my manners? I am Dalathor Windless, child of the Goddess Brutia, and your Tutorial Master. It is a pleasure to meet you." The giant gave a short bow, one Bast hurried to mimic. Even if this creature was the child of a human Goddess, his obvious power was worthy of some respect, and one does not slight the God''s and their ilk, even those of your enemies, for they are quick to anger. Bast, recovering from his short bow, mustered up as much courage as he could gather, and shouted out to the creature in as bold a voice as he could. "Greetings, Dalathor Windless. I am Bast." The fear in his stomach remained, knowing that at that very moment, his friends and clansmen were being slaughtered to a man, and as such, he could not manage to bring forth more than a modicum of courtesy, keeping his greetings short and terse. The giant grinned, patting his muscled stomach, before waving his hands at the ground, muttering a short phrase. Bast felt the wind stir with a strange magic, and the earth itself split, a small, red wooden table, marked with golden scrollwork, rising up from the ground. The fancy table was covered by several books and scrolls, as well as dishes of food and drink. The table was flanked by two human-sized chairs, more red wood, marked with the same gilded scrollwork as the table. Another quiet phrase, and the giant started to shrink into himself, quickly taking the form of a human, though one with incredible proportions. He sat himself with alien grace, before gesturing for the boy to join him. The boy moved to sit, habitually reaching to move his tail out of the way of the chair, but it found nothing but empty air. After a few awkward moments, he realized that he could only barely feel his tail, and yet it was non-existent, a truly confusing realization.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The orange Godling leaned forward, a small smirk on his face. "Given your reactions, may I assume you are like the others, and are one of the strange Armyr immigrants?" Fingers twitching, Bast kept himself calm, despite his desire to return to his people. Even so, there was no way to return, and he had to take care of himself first and foremost. Steeling himself, Bast prepared to focus his entire being towards the goal of surviving and thriving in this new world. Keeping his voice as steady as possible, Bast responded to the question. "I am indeed from Armyr, and will need much counseling to understand this strange place." The words caused the now-miniature giant to smile from ear to ear. His thick hands grabbed a scroll, passing it over to the eager boy''s hands, who fumbled with his strangely slow body, but managed to eventually take and pull open the large roll of parchment. His eyes were glued to the content, rereading every portion several times. More than once, he raised his head to ask a question, but a moment of thought stopped him, and he resumed his reading. The scroll was rather short, and contained succinct, and easy to understand information, though the contents sent Bast¡¯s mind reeling with endless questions. How could one grow physically stronger, and keener of eye and ear simply by slaying monsters, and completed tasks for others? Wasn¡¯t training the foundation for the blade, and true combat the whetstone? The strangeness was made worse by the apparent use of numbers to rule nearly everything, even how wounded an enemy became after a sword strike, rather than the actual physics of a blade in motion. It was all truly strange, and he could feel himself bursting with questions, but there was one that was more important than any other, one so strange and mysterious it left a burning in his chest that threatened to suffocate him. ¡°Sir, if I may, but is it true what it says here, that once slain, you return from the grasp of death?¡± The orange man nodded, frowning slightly at the question. It was clear he knew what the next question would be, but he waited for the boy to speak his mind. Bast¡¯s hands clenched as his whole body shook, letting the scroll fall to the ground. A single tear threatened the corner of his eyes. He knew the answer to his question before he asked it, but it must be asked, or the pain would turn his soul to cinders. ¡°And what of those that die elsewhere? Can they be brought to this place?¡± The Demigod shook his head. A long, awkward silence followed, the emotionally disturbed boy unable to ignore the memories that ran through his mind, filled with death and despair, prompting the fire in his stomach to grow boiling hot. His hands itched for his sword, wanting nothing more than to clear his mind with a mock battle. Or perhaps a real battle. Perhaps blood could quench the fire that filled his veins. The boy thought for a moment, the anger still kept in control as he tried his best to come up with a way to satiate his hunger without jeopardizing his information gathering. Finally, after several minutes of pondering, he turned to the orange man, eyes shining with a determined light. He spoke, voice carrying a faint tremor of both excitement and sadness. ¡°Master Windless, I am a man who learns through actions better than words. Would it be possible for me to learn all of these various terms and Stats through something more¡­. Physical?¡± Dalathor¡¯s face broke into a giant grin. ¡°I see. Eager to test your mettle in this place? I suppose that learning through experience could count towards passing the Tutorial¡­ Yes, I think I have just the thing.¡± The man stood, spreading his arms out to the large grasslands that sat at the foot of the mountain. With three loud shouts, the earth shook once more, a giant crack opening in the fields, and a giant stone arena, complete with red ropes, rose from the ground. In addition, several weapon and armor stands rose alongside the arena, as well as a dozen creatures made of translucent white and grey liquid, which took the form of various monstrous beings. Face split in an ecstatic grin, the man strode towards the arena, gesturing for Bast to follow. Seeing an opportunity to calm his fury, the boy quickly followed. Soon, his thirst for blood would be sated, as well as his desire for information regarding the glorious art of combat in this strange, number-driven world. And perhaps he would experience first hand how one could ''return from the dead''. Chapter 2: First Blood With somewhat unsteady movements, Bast swung a metal sword, one carefully selected from the array of weapons, most smelling of putrid iron and its ilk. It had been easy to choose a sword, since he had no clue about what half of the weapons even WERE. He would have loved to check out the armor section, given the massive array of various suits of armor, including massive, bulky pieces that seemed more like animated golems than actual armor. Unfortunately, it reeked of iron, far more than the weapons did, so much so that he had to skirt the section by several yards in order to reach the weapons. Sadly, he had to content himself with a single sword. The weapon had plenty of hilt to wield with two hands, but short enough to be used with one. It had a sharp taper, perfect for thrusts, and was a good match for his preferred fighting style. It was also probably some form of treated silver, and though weaker than iron, it wouldn''t burn his skin on contact. He was busy performing the third of seventy-three sword forms, the Demigod watching from a chair he had summoned for himself, curious as to the reasons for the recent Armyr players to seem so unaccustomed to their bodies in Phasmia. It was quite the quandary for the being, as he was fairly familiar with the code that made up the world. He''d helped make it, after all. It was truly strange to see someone so obviously accustomed to the sword, but seemingly lacking in physical prowess, which only added to the strangeness of the most recent batch of players. The boy in question was almost focused on adjusting to his new strength, though his mind wandered a bit, worrying about his current situation. He felt weak, and it was extremely uncomfortable. Supposedly he could increase his "Strength Stat" after killing some monsters, which should alleviate the problem, but what would happen when he reached a strength beyond what his mind could properly handle? All important questions, but ones that would not sate the fury that was starting to harden in his gut. He needed to fight something before it buried itself inside him, a hidden torment that would plague him for a lifetime. After twenty minutes of practice, one which left him very dissatisfied, Bast felt he was ready enough. He finished the last portions of the twenty-seventh form, before making his way to the orange man, rough brown clothes stained with sweat. The man in question rose, before moving to the arena, and slipping between the red ropes. Bast followed, sword clutched in sweaty, nervous hands. He knew that the fight ahead would be far different from his many practices. It would be blood that splattered the stone tiles, rather than the defeated''s pride. And the thought made his heart pound with excitement. The Godling strode to the center of the stage gesturing to the monsters that remained motionless outside the arena. Four creatures hearkened to the summons, entering the arena to face Bast. The smallest was a gangly grey humanoid, covered in mangled fur, and clutching a crude iron ax. He knew it was iron, from the putrid smell it exuded. All the Fae knew the smell of iron, and knew to fear it. But rather than an overwhelming sensation, the smell was muted, much like the feel of his tail or magic, as if in another world entirely. The second creature was the bastard child of a pig and a man, thick pink skin hanging from its humanoid form, drool pouring from its mouth, coating its two sharp tusks. Fortunately, it only wielded a wooden club, and should be a simple opponent to slay, or so Bast thought. The third and fourth were a bit more troublesome, one a five-foot tall boar, the other a man-sized snake. Bast had experienced many mock battles, but most had been against humanoids. There was little expectation of humanity to return to the days of shamanism, summoning multitudes of monsters to fight at their side. The prospect of fighting those last two beasts was leaving Bast with a cold sweat. He might not have to worry about dying, but the scroll had mentioned nothing about pain. The orange man grinned down at the young boy, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Alright, boy, before we begin, let''s go over the basics. First-" Impatient, and peeved the giant thought he didn''t know how to fight, the young boy interrupted the man, holding his sword at the ready. "I have no need for a combat lesson, Master Windless. Send the first opponent, and watch my skill." The man just shook his head in mild exasperation, before gesturing to the small rat-like creature. The grey monster leapt forward, short legs flailing against the ground to fling the overly large upper body forward. Bast just sneered, not bothering to take a single step as he waited for the creature. The monster probably thought the boy was scared, as it squeaked in delight, raising its ax in the air as it prepared to slay its prey. With effortless ease, Bast took a step forward, and thrust his sword forward, skewering the rat through the throat, the entire motion done with liquid grace. The sword slid through the large ratman''s neck like it was butter, but Bast leaped back in surprise as a small series of numbers superimposed themselves above the creature''s head. And though disconcerting, the sight was nothing when compared to the ax that buried itself in his chest, the living, somehow, ratman''s eyes gleaming as it continued to move, despite the wound that should have left it completely crippled.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Though Bast reacted fairly quickly to the sudden turn of events, the rat had already gotten past his long blade, removing any chance of using a longer reach to his advantage. Rather than try and gain some distance, Bast used one hand to grab hold of his own blade, the other still grasping the handle, and used the pommel as a makeshift mace, bashing it into the face of the ratman. Another series of numbers appeared over the monster as it stumbled back, clutching its face, but the wild combination of fury, fear and pain removed any thoughts of yet another mystery of the mind-boggling realm. Stepping back from the distracted foe, Bast regained his reach advantage. He returned to his usual two-handed grip, winding up for a massive swing, cleaving the blade across the beast''s chest, ignoring the neck as it appeared to be an ineffective target. The blow caused the monster to explode in a shower of glass-like fragments, and another strange illusion appeared in its place, a large blue scroll, complete with gold trim, floating in the air above where the creature once stood. It boldly declared;
Kill Successful! Slain Foe: Ratling Man Hybrid, Level 2 Total XP: 65 Contribution: 100% Rewarded XP: 65 Congratulations, , for defeating your first opponent! As such, your XP received will be increased by 200% Bonus XP: 130
The message was interesting, but not one of concern at the moment. There were more pressing issues. Such as the bleeding wound on his chest. Wounds from iron weapons were not something to be trifled with, and the young Fae sought out his distant magic, preparing to close the wound, but he stopped at the strange sight of the wound. Instead of charred flesh and gaping innards, there was only a cheery red line on his chest, a small amount of blood flowing from the wound. The sight was yet another oddity in this realm, the wound looking more like a makeup artist''s rendition of a wound for a play, rather than the disgusting mass of ruined flesh that usually marked a serious wound. He turned to the orange man, a dozen questions on his mind, but his face flushed in embarrassment at the sight of the man''s giant grin. Bast groaned, remembering how he had cut off the man as he had tried to explain the workings of battle in this weird realm. The man probably meant to explain the differences between real combat, and battle in this realm, and he''d cut the man off, assuming the man meant to belittle his combat experience. The embarrassment was far more important than the small amount of pain coming from his wound, and Bast bowed to the Demigod, preparing to express his sincere apologies. He was about to speak, but was stopped by a pat on the shoulder, one that made all the pain from the wound vanish. Bast took a quick glance at his wound, noting that it had completely vanished. Not a surprise, given the obvious power of the being. The Godling just grinned down at the boy, amusement sparkling in his eyes, rather than mild ire. "I assume you''ve figured out that your combat skills aren''t the end all in this place? Ready to hear this old man do his job and tutor you?" The young Fae nodded, unable to meet the man''s eye. He knew he was in the wrong, and if the realm he now resided in were less merciful, he''d be suffering from a serious wound. There were times to be stubborn, hiding your weakness from others, but now was not such a time. "I''m sorry, Master Windless. I will try my best to avoid making stupid mistakes in the future." And he would. The boy, though sometimes foolish and hot-headed, knew how to learn from his mistakes. One doesn¡¯t go through the rigorous combat training of his people¡¯s guardsmen without learning to avoid making the same mistake twice. The Commanders of the Nytha Watch are, well, let us just say they do not look favorably on those that fail to fix bad habits. Nodding, the large man gave the boy a pat on the head, letting out a little chuckle. ¡°All people make mistakes. It takes a good man to admit to them, and an even better man to help others with their failings without making judgement. Of course, I¡¯m not a good man, so I¡¯ll be judging you quite a bit. Now, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯ll start over again. After you run twenty laps around the field, that is.¡± Though the last bit was spoken with a jolly tone, the boy knew an order when he heard one, and didn¡¯t hesitate to take off running after sheathing his sword. One does not question a superior¡¯s choice of punishment. Whether the Godling counted as his superior, well, the boy supposed that a fifty-foot giant capable of flying through the air probably deserved the title of superior. And so, Bast began the slow and dull challenge of a five-mile run, all while feeling like he was walking through water, every motion a drain, lacking any substantial strength. It didn¡¯t even occur to him that the giant intended for him to get used to his new state. But knowing or ignorant, the run helped tremendously, and after he finally finished the last lap, body covered in sweat, Bast had managed to grow mostly accustomed to his current state. And with his punishment complete, it was time to learn how the hell that ratman could survive a thrust through the neck. And what he would learn was so absurd, he would weep tears of frustration. Chapter 3: Determination "So let me get this straight. Instead of making battles actually realistic, these ''developers'' decided to make wounds do nothing but reduce some arbitrary number? And nobody thought to tell them this was a completely inane idea?" Bast said, patience wearing thin. Master Windless had spent the last five minutes trying to explain why numbers were so vital to this realm, but without a basic understanding of computers, none of it made any sense. And so, the Demigod tried his best to keep his temper under control. But still, who the hell played a damn fantasy sci-fi crossover VR game if they didn''t even understand what HP was?! The tiny giant let out a snort, ruffling his bushy mustache. "You¡¯re forgetting, this place was made for entertainment first, realism second. And besides, it isn''t all that bad, boy. You''ll still do more damage for hitting the appropriate places, and your advanced skills will level up faster if you use your weapons and armor right." The man said, in a vain attempt to rationalize with the irate boy. "But how are real warriors supposed to cope with the fact that a well-executed wrist cut will only reduce this HP, instead of forcing the enemy to use only a single hand?! It throws every form of martial prowess out the window! I bet most people have resorted to just bashing each other with ever-bigger weapons, not even bothering to parry or dodge!" said the frustrated warrior, letting his external frustrations bubble up in an unrelated issue. And judging by the sudden flush on Windless''s face, there was more than a bit of truth to his words. "Patched that issue a few weeks ago with version 1.1.31. You should have seen fights before I made them rebalance larger weapons." the man said, a hint of ire and embarrassment in his voice. The words did not bolster Bast''s waning confidence in this realm. At least the place had realistic armor and weapons though, judging from the selection. Well, besides the weird giant suits, and those useless leather bits that, outside of this realm, would be as useful as a damp towel. "Well, since you said you learn better through acting, let''s put what you learned into action. Your next foe is physically strong, and has a large pool of HP, totalling 315 HP, but is slow to react and reposition. Remember, your damage is based on your weapon¡¯s base damage, multiplied by how much of your strength is put to bear on the attack, then multiplied by skills, then finally by a value based on where you strike. Take your time, and see how much damage you deal with various strikes. It has plenty of HP, so go wild." said the Demigod, rubbing his hands together. Windless had to admit to his excitement to see how well this well-trained boy handled the combat system. He''d had a few of the Armyr come through, but none were familiar with advanced combat, and though they had been a whole lot easier to tutor, none were as entertaining. Well, besides the girl that somehow already understood the magic system, and threw a ball of nasty, poisonous vines at him. THAT had taken a lot of effort to not break the Confidentiality Clause, and peak into the background of that particular individual. Though frustrated at the, well, frustrating rules of the realm, Bast was more than happy to get back in the arena. And now that he understood more of the rules, nothing would get the jump on him like that nasty rodent had. He moved over to the stone construction, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He slipped under the ring, and drew his sword, eyeing the three remaining monsters in turn. With a call from the Tutorial Master, the piggish creature moved forward, swinging its giant club in massive arcs, air swishing around it in tiny hurricanes. The monster¡¯s slobber dripped onto the floor as it squealed in a very pig-like way, before slowly charging forward, slowly building its momentum. Rather than wait for the enemy to get closer, as well as increase its momentum, Bast lept to meet the foe, moving forward in small, quick strides as he kept low to the ground. They reached each other in mere moments, the pig swinging its massive club in a sideways arc. Rather than fight the beast in a test of strength, Bast quickly turned his short, forward steps into a backwards leap, skirting the edge of the blow, before rocketing back forward, thrusting his sword into the enemy¡¯s armpit, overexposed by the massive swing. The blade wasn¡¯t stopped by ribs, suggesting that the monster¡¯s organs would have been pierced. Well, if this realm HAD organs. Bast wouldn¡¯t put it past the place for organs to not even exist. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Moments after the thrust, a series of red numbers popped up above the creature¡¯s head, reading; ¡°127! ( 19 * (.89 + 0) * 7.55)¡±. Though he didn¡¯t have enough time to do the math, Bast assumed the 127 was the multiple of 19 and whatever the three other numbers added up to, but as for which of the three smaller numbers represented what, he had no clue. What was REALLY annoying, however, was that his damage was far too miniscule, considering that the wound should have been fatal on its own, but compared to the supposed HP of the creature, a whopping 315, he was barely getting started. He quickly pulled out his sword, stepping backward as the creature tried to bring its club back around again, hitting nothing but more air. Not wanting to be anywhere near that giant club when it was making its swing, Bast only took a short step forward, using the tip of his blade to leave two quick cuts on the creature¡¯s forearm, one dealing 19 damage, the other dealing 17.At least the damage from a light strike on a non-vital location was much lower, but still, he would have to change far too much of his fighting style to adapt. The pig, squealing like mad, brought the club to its shoulder, before charging straight forward, as if to body-slam the young Fae. Marveling at the utter stupidity of the creature, Bast merely took a single step back, sword swinging upward to cleave open a long, shallow cut along the pig¡¯s chest, before leaping to the side, easily clearing the path of the beast, and landing on his hands and knees with a few scrapes. A small, white -2 appeared at the corner of his vision, giving him a slight startle, but he was starting to get used to random visuals appearing out of thin air. Taking a second to breathe, Bast analyzed the situation. The foe was extremely easy for anyone with nimble legs, and with some combat awareness. The whole numbers thing was frustrating, how was he supposed to improve his skills if most of his training focused on aspects of reality that just DIDN¡¯T APPLY in the damnable place. And if he let himself slide into whatever ridiculous method of fighting was promoted here, then when he left, his skills would be severely harmed, and he would probably get himself killed. No, if he wanted to prepare for future war, he would have to stick with his training. No cutting corners, no more playing around. It was time to kill the beast. The target in question was currently turning around to face its hated foe, and with no thought for safety, Bast rushed forward, sword held above his shoulder. The beast swung its club in a clumsy overhead motion, one that Bast redirected with his blade, guiding the attack to his side as he performed a quick sidestep, the club slammed into the ground at his side. He let his sword flow up the club¡¯s side, slashing the wrist, letting the blade continue passed the creature, giving himself enough space to launch a powerful sideways blow, leaning his whole body into a slash that ripped open a large cut in the pig¡¯s throat. Though it had somehow survived the two attacks, the monster''s stance was broken, stumbling backward from the pain. A shove sent creature bowling over, and a thrust to the chest turned the monster into so many fragments of glass that slowly exploded into nothingness. With a flick of his blade, the pig¡¯s blood splattered the floor, clearing most of the blade of the rust hazard. The battle, though interesting, had done little to satiate the hunger inside the boy. He had hoped that a simple fight might help, but he could no longer lie to himself. It wasn¡¯t combat he craved, it was retribution, and all the talk of numbers was delaying him from satisfying that need. What point was there in sitting around, learning all of the fancy rules of this realm, if all he needed was a blade in hand, and a target to eliminate? No, no more sitting around. He would learn the last, most important details, before setting off to satisfy the desire for revenge. If those humans that entered this realm couldn¡¯t die, at least they could feel PAIN. And that is what they would feel, a pitiful sacrifice to ease the suffering of the slain as they watched from the sky and listened to the wind. With his decision made, Bast made his way to the applauding Demigod, sword clutched in a trembling fist, mind bent only on inflicting as much suffering as possible on all of humanity. A reckoning was to be had for the millions of Fae slain, and those unfortunate players of Phasmia Online where about to receive the bill. Chapter 4: Character Creation Pt. 1 Bast sat on a chair, staring furiously at a pair of scrolls, the first floating above him, detailing his Character Sheet, one that he could access at any time through another scroll known as the Menu. The second scroll was a real, physical scroll, one giving a basic introduction to each Stat, and the various details of leveling and character creation. He would occassionaly scratch at his human ears, the protruding flesh itching slightly. It was yet another frustration for the boy. Not only was he weaker, he was also starting to realize that his sense of hearing was also dampened. Inferior humans, and their weak physiology. It was a miracle his own people had lost the Founding War. The ire that had driven him to seek a quick departure from the Tutorial had quickly faded, sidelined as it slowly dawned on him just how vital this Character Creationwas. He had originally assumed that getting stronger was as simple as killing monsters, and though it technically was, there were plenty of tiny details that turned out to be quite important. Everything had started when the Tutorial Master asked how exactly he wished to fight. The question was ridiculous, and should have been completely obvious, but now that Bast was starting to understand Stats , Traits, and Levels, he realized just how important such a question had been. Becoming stronger in this world was more complicated than simply training. There were various numbers that controlled how well one¡¯s Character functioned in the world. There were apparently 12 main statistics that determined pretty much everything, from how quickly one moved, to how powerful one¡¯s magic was. These values could be increased by Leveling Up, allowing you to increase any Stat by 1, up to ten times per level. To make things even more complicated, you started with three Traits gaining an additional one every ten levels. These Traits were essentially options that allowed more customization to one¡¯s Build, like access to more diverse and archaic magics, improved senses, magical resistances, or just straight up damage multipliers. All in all, it was too convoluted for Bast¡¯s tastes, and the Demigod refused to do all the work for him, so here he was, pondering over how exactly he would proceed. One of his biggest issues was in regards to the Strength and Agility Stats. In reality, one¡¯s ability to move quickly depended on muscle strength, familiarity with the movements, and natural reflexes. But in this world, muscle strength was somehow split into two categories, Agility and Strength, with the first improving how quickly and easily your body moved, and the second determining how powerful the movement was. Which made no sense to Bast. From what he understood, the speed of your body was directly proportional to the body¡¯s size, and how much strength was put into it. But apparently, even some of the most fundamental principles of the universe were being rewritten. At least it explained his seeming lack of physical strength and feeling of sluggishness in the world. According to his character sheet, he had 100 Strength and Agility, which was universal amongst all new Players. It was apparently made that way so nobody had an advantage based on their physique in the real world. Not only that, but it was highly likely that, due to his own prowess and natural reflexes being much greater than a normal human, the ¡®leveling the playing field¡¯ reduced his own speed and reflexes a great deal more than most players. The issue of Strength vs Agility was quite a difficult one, given he had to decide how he wanted to split his 10 Stat Points gained per level between the two, as well as the ten other Stats. Should he be faster, or hit harder? It was truly a difficult conundrum, one made more difficult by the rest of the stats. And what about the others? All of them seemed extremely important, in one way or another. The next two Stats were Toughness and Reflexes. The first governed how physically healthy your body was, increasing one¡¯s HP, and the second how quickly time passes. The second was definitely the most puzzling, and was the second biggest thorn in his side when it came to determining what stats would go where. He could use most of his Stat Points on Reflexes, giving him more time to plan his movements, but he would feel even more sluggish than he was now, and that was NOT a pleasant idea. Though it would be mitigated by the small note that mentioned one¡¯s Reflexes outside of combat could be defaulted to a certain amount, to help with communication, as well as reducing the stress on the mind. Oh, and that was another issue. Apparently, making time go slower kind of messed with the brain a bit, so it was limited to combat, or when a command was given to activate it, for times when you need precision, such as a surgery, or a complex bit of artistry. Of course, there were other important stats besides those four, but those four were definitely his priority at the moment, all being important to the life of a swordsman. Next were magical stats. There was Power, which made a spell hit harder, or work better. Then there was Capacity, which increased how much magical energy you could carry at once, Mana, as the Demigod called it. Next was Attunement, which increased how quickly one¡¯s magical energy returned, and Malleability, which made spellcasting easier. Bast couldn¡¯t help but imagine how it would be to increase his magical reserves so simply. Weeks of constant magical endurance training had left a toll on him during his training as a guardsman, one that could have been avoided completely if this system worked in the real world. Though there were four other Stats, all but one were completely useless to the boy. Force of will to make the non-player residents of the realm do what you want, Social Skills to give you hints about a Player or Non-Player¡¯s mood, or even hints about personality of Non-Players. Then Willpower to resist non-damaging magics, and Pattern Recognition to give hints about possible traps, riddles, schemes, and some crafting tips. Willpower was the mildly important one, but the others had no use to him at the moment. All of the Stats needed to be juggled, depending on how he wanted to hunt his targets. He was a quick and powerful swordsman, so Strength, Agility, Toughness and Reflexes were all important, but did he want to try and learn this world¡¯s magics, or just use his own? No, he couldn¡¯t use his own, or it might attract attention. After all, his own magics would be obviously unique, since it wouldn¡¯t use his Mana, and it would be very different from the human¡¯s, given the magic of this place was apparently a creation of the realm, with couldn¡¯t possibly be based in real magics, given the Templar¡¯s constant hunting of anything magical for the last two millennia. Sitting at the desk, Bast kept mulling over option after option. He could rely mostly on Strength for sheer damage, and just use high Reflexes and his own skill to dodge and outwit opponents, but with higher Agility, he could outperform others in swordsmanship with ease, attacking and parrying faster, and using his knowledge of combat to keep three steps ahead of everyone. Then there was Toughness to consider, since it was important to stay alive. If he was quick, it was less likely he would get hit, but there was still offensive magics to consider. He could deal with those with Willpower though¡­ All the possibilities made him rub at his head, frustrated by his lack of progress. He had been sitting for over half an hour, most of it listening to Master Windless¡¯s endless explanations, and he seemed no closer to his goal. It didn¡¯t occur to him until after much deliberation to consider what was most common amongst the human Players, and the realization made him feel rather foolish. After all, it was important to consider one¡¯s enemies before choosing one¡¯s weapon. Turning to the monologue-prone Demigod, he asked a rather simple question. ¡°What¡¯s more popular amongst Players. Damage dealing magic-wielder, quick duelists, or strong swordsmen?¡± The man smiled slightly, standing still for a moment, as if pondering, before saying, ¡°There¡¯s quite a bit more variety than that, my boy. Most Player¡¯s tend to work together, often in groups of four to six, and as such, some focus mostly on HP and defense, with magics to make the enemy focus on them, while others provide substantial damage, healing powers, powerful augments, and potent debilitating spells. However, most players have opted for the heavier armor types, focusing on using armor to augment their low HP, and putting all their stats into one or two stats, usually Strength or Power.¡± Oh, right, that reminded him, there was also various armor types to consider, ranging from Cloth, all the way up to Fullplate. At least they had a reasonable variety that mostly reflected reality. Except the leather armor. Leather armor is USELESS in reality! But having a reasonable variety didn''t help the fact that they ruined almost everything about armor, because everything in this place stunk. The Developers of this realm were apparently unable to do anything besides numbers and more numbers. Armor in this place just acted as a second set of HP, and it didn¡¯t even matter if you hit an unarmored area, as long as the armor¡¯s HP was above 0, the damage would go to the armor¡¯s HP, rather than your own, which was completely, utterly, STUPID! Well, Bast thought so, at least. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The new knowledge certainly didn¡¯t make his decision any easier. If most of his targets worked in complementary groups, then it would be extremely frustrating to fight them. Hmmm¡­ wait, if the enemy focused mostly on working together, wouldn¡¯t that mean they would double down on their main stats? That would leave each one lacking in the rest, and would be ineffective on their own. Now THAT was an idea. If he could single out a target, he could probably make quick work of them, which could even open up more targets in the rest of the group. Now, how would he single enemy¡¯s out? The easiest way would be to teleport them away, but that was almost impossible with real magic, and it would most likely be impossible here, too. A quick question to the Tutorial Master confirmed as much. Next would be¡­ Illusion magic! Oh, now wasn¡¯t this an amazing coincidence. He just so happened to adore the school of Illusory magics, but lacked the proper training in them, due to their lack of effectiveness in the roles of a guardsman. Now, it WAS a good idea, but it would require splitting up his Stats more. Hmmm¡­ What other routes were available? Stealth, obviously, but then it would require plenty of waiting and patience, something he most definitely wasn¡¯t in the mood for. Perhaps basic luring traps, focusing on Agility to slip behind them? No, the results would vary too much between groups, and would also require cover. Well, how about teleporting himself, getting in close to kill someone quickly, before teleporting back out. That was promising as well, but once again, he would need to split his Stats. It looked like it was going to come down to either Illusion or Teleportation, but he''d have to check what the actual spells were, and what they did. Time to ask the big orange man some more questions that would most likely just end up with the Demigod annoyed, and himself extremely frustrated. A few minutes later, Bast couldn''t help but think he might be able to see the future. After a quick discussion with the orange giant, the boy learned that actual teleportation wasn''t possible until much later into the Game, and were only available to specialized casters around level 40, or for those lucky enough to stumble on a hidden Trait option during some quest, granting them some form of basic teleportation a bit early. And according to the Demigod, it would probably take him at least a few weeks, if not more, to reach that point. No way was he wasting that much time, and the Spatial magics that WERE available at the start weren''t even close to what he wanted. No, he would have to stick with Illusion. It also didn''t quite fit what he wanted, not right away, but it DID open up an avenue that he hadn''t considered.
Illusory Blade Storm Spell School: Illusion Casting Style: Chant Cost: 40 Mana Casting Time: ~2.5 Seconds Chant: "Olm Thell, Nicklatharni Folenskia Durvel" Chant Accuracy Requirements: 85% Chant Difficulty: E- Spell Description: A wave of illusory attacks burst from your body, hiding your true strike amongst the deluge of fake thrusts and strikes. Perfect for sneaking passed an enemy''s guard. In addition, when used against those whose Willpower is much weaker than your own Power, these illusory attacks can actually harm the opponent, dealing up to 25% of what the strike would have done if performed by the caster.
That one spell made up his mind. The other two were decent, one having a long cast time with repetitive chants, which created illusory terrain, the other being a simple appearance change, one that was entirely free of mana cost and long lasting. The second one ALMOST fit what he wanted, but unfortunately, it affected all that could see the illusion. According to Master Windless, he''d get the option for singling out individuals for Illusion spells around level 10, for a Trait Point. Well, he could probably suffice with just the first spell until then. And so, Bast settled on Illusion magics.And with that piece in place, it was finally time to decide how to split up Stats, and his two remaining Traits. And with a few more questions about some decent Traits, he narrowed his choices down to the basics, though both were obvious picks, once he thought about them. Much better than some crappy +5% damage with swords. Might as well just give him +5 strength and be done with it.
Mind-Bending Will Trait Cost: 1 Trait Point Trait Description: When casting Illusion spells, the caster uses their Willpower Stat, rather than their Power stat, to determine its effectiveness.
Improved Hearing Trait Cost: 1 Trait Point Trait Description: This trait increases the player''s sound-detecting capabilities, heightening them to the level of a canine''s. ( Warning, increased hearing may overwhelm some. It is recommended that those unable to cope use the Menu to lower the sound to a reasonable level, slowly increasing it as to inclement themselves to the new sensation. )
And with that, he managed to complete almost everything forCharacter Creation. Though he intended to be more balanced in his future Stats, instead of focusing so heavily on Agility, the feeling of slowness was a real drag, and aleviating that issue was worth spending his points on Agility until the issue got fixed. All in all, he felt very satisfied with his choices, as well ashis name. It was a good name, and demonstrated his intents rather clearly. All that was left was to choose how he looked, and where he would begin his journey. Not that those really mattered. He''d just make something like his real form, but make sure it was slightly different from reality, just for added security. As for location, anywhere with plenty of prey to slay. Yes, he could already see it now. Vast forests of foolishhumans, ripe for the killing. The boy clasped his hands together, rubbing them as he sniggered in a most cruel way. It would seem cartoon villain-ish, if it weren''t for the very real hatred that burned in his soul.
Name: Bast, Bringer of Pain Level 1
Place of Origin: Currency 100 CP
Hit Points 204/204 Mana 200/200
Strength 100 Power 100
Agility 108 Capacity 100
Toughness 100 Attunement 100
Reflexes 100 Malleability 100
Force of Personality 100 Social Skills 100
Willpower 102 Pattern Recognition 100
Meanwhile, as Bast gloated over his completed character, the Demigod was clutching his chest, barely containing his laughter at the boy''s choice of name. He had seen plenty of angsty teens in his days, but this one most definitely made his top ten. It was even better that the boy had no clue how angsty he was being, and how people would react to his name.He would definitely have to keep track of the boy now, since he had a lawful excuse, which was monitoring the boy to make sure he didn''t get too bullied. Not that the Demigod would report such activities unless it got really bad, but still, it passed his protocol requirements, and that was a good enough reason for him. Oh, he was going to love seeing this boy try and handle the Gaming world. Poor thing probably thought a strong sword would be enough in the world of Phasmia Online. How wrong he was.