《Survivors of the Wild》


 Chapter 1 - Camp

    The ground began to settle and the sky found a fixed hue. Neither fire nor ice fell from the sky. The trees were made of wood and didn¡¯t secrete acid or poison. It was finally calm. After decades of troubles, it was finally calm. What felt like millennia, but was closer to years, of shifting, panic, chaos and death, as the worlds collapsed, was finally over.


    In the beginning there was twelve worlds; planets separated by an endless void. By touching the hearts of each world, those who lived on the worlds were able to venture between worlds. With great pride, the best workers shaped a city in the void, a city at the centre of twelve worlds; The glorious city of Zen. For hundreds of years that city grew, with wealth, power and governance centralising itself there. For hundreds of years energy was taken away from the hearts of the worlds without being returned.


    When the worlds became too exhausted to go on, they made one final attempt to survive. They moved themselves to the city in the void, collapsing themselves into one world.  The process was not a subtle one and the resulting world was unstable, falling apart and rebuilding each section of the surface on a near daily basis. The world¡¯s heart was also different, the power wielders of old, who could shape worlds and bring life to a void, couldn¡¯t hear the voice of the planet any longer.


    Cities were lost. Countries were lost. People were lost.


    But despite the loss, life went on. In the middle of a canyon, that had once been a mountain, a small camp, the start of a village, had been set up. There were young ones, born after the birth of the one world, who lived every day only vaguely aware that it was possible to have a sunrise in a consistent direction. From their perspective, that the ground had stopped shaking was something to fear.


    But the danger was only just beginning, with the environment finally stabilised beasts and monsters could once again repopulate. Within a week the camp¡¯s population had been halved. The only way they lasted as long as they did was because some researchers, former power wielders, found new ways to reach the heart of the world. The new heart was different. It was far more powerful than the old ones but far less kind. The old hearts would attempt to communicate, would guess and empathise to try and reach the desired result. The new heart, the One Heart, however, did none of those things. It ignored communication, was apathetic and would only react to exact requests if they somehow made it to it. To make matters worse, it seemed to favour beasts and monsters. Beasts that appeared on the twelve worlds grew much faster than they previously did and would often carry the ability to project power is some form. Monsters were far worse; they seemed to be able to wield power as freely as man could on the twelve.


    As the camp was on the brink of collapse, one researcher finished his experiment. It was a vein hope; something that could be described as escapism. He gathered all the energy, all the power, from the crystals, bones, scrolls, books and staffs. Naturally, that was done without permission and all of those things could have helped save lives in the fight against the beasts; but he didn¡¯t care. His hope, his dream, was to use the gate spell, to escape the forest, to return the city in the void; return to Zen and his family that lived there. The spell failed. He tried again. The spell failed. He tried again. The spell failed.


    He could hear the sound of people dying getting ever closer. The battle was being lost and they were being pushed back. He had enough energy for one more attempt. He had failed three times. Something wasn¡¯t right. The spell should work. In a panic he thought to himself, what could he do to make it work?


    He had an idea.


    It was a crazy idea; even for him.


    He restarted the spell, this time without a destination.


    The spell would open a gate between that world and the nearest other world. He knew that the spell would most likely fail; after all, the thirteenth world was the only world left. Would the destination-less spell target the city? Would it simply break? He had no way of knowing.


    The gate opened. The gate opened but what he saw wasn¡¯t the city. A pulse of white light spread out of the gate and encompassed the horizon. When he regained his sight, he could see strange green, yellow and blue bars floating above everyone, himself included.


    Furthermore their names were displayed, as was a number. Similar bars could be seen over the heads of the nearby beasts.


    By then end of the day that camp was destroyed.


    It was an odd occurrence. In the games library of all virtual reality capsules was a game that no-one purchased. No company was listed and no-one credible was taking claim to it. No-one downloaded it, yet it existed fully downloaded. At first, it was believed to be a hacking incident, as it couldn¡¯t be uninstalled and was still on the drive after a hard reset. After a short while it was found to be even stranger than that. After replacing the hard-drive on an unused device, and running it in off-line mode, the game still appeared in the library. It was like an urban ghost story, but everyone had it. To make matters stranger, when playing it, no internet data was metered. It was a game that didn¡¯t exist, but did everywhere, that was played online, but didn¡¯t use any data.


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    The publicity over the strange event lead to a sharp increase to the number of capsules sold, leading in turn to the event being called a publicity stunt. What made that idea less likely was that it didn¡¯t just appear on one type of capsule. Any capsule capable of complete emersion, even home-made ones, had the game in the library. The game itself also made the idea that it was a publicity stunt less likely. There were law about the level of realism a game could have, especially around the amount of pain the user could feel before pain was disconnected. The game followed none of those laws and would see the makes imprisoned if they were discovered.


    Players would get hungry, thirsty, hot, cold and tired. They¡¯d get sick and diseased, could be scared and deformed. It also had a nonsensical level or difficulty that provided very little rewards. What it did have, that other virtual games didn¡¯t, was a detailed character customisation. As laws were put in place to protect users the customisation options of most games were limited. That game, however, didn¡¯t follow those laws any more than it did pain reduction. There were many calls to ban the game, but since it existed without anyone doing anything there was little that could be done about it.


    The game was called ''Saviours of the Wild''; it was a massively multiplayer online role playing game (mmorpg) with a strong emphasis on survival. There was no real theme or common environment, and often gave the impression that it was several different places, with different cultures, rather than one. Also in contrast were the available classes. While the game seemed to focus heavily on a serious atmosphere the playable classes seemed to disregard that entirely. While there were normal classes, like ''swordsman'', ''rouge'', ''wizard'' and ''archer'', there were strange classes like ''fisherman'', ''tattoo artist'', ''meteorologist'' and ''gambler''.


    To make matters worse, people who chose to be wizards couldn¡¯t use magic. They had a spell list and available components, but no matter what anyone tried they couldn¡¯t get a spell to cast. There was also a strange double up, with there being a ''bard'' class and a ''bard of the wild'' class. A normal bard had the same problem as the wizard, it had a spell list that no-one could use. It really didn¡¯t take long for them to be labelled broken classes or scrap data from development that was never removed.


    The classes that were able to use magic, however, required strange and different methods for casting. A ''geomancer'' collected energy from creatures and stones, storing it in crystals, and then used them as spells later. The ''summoner'', on the other hand, worked through a strange process of drawing energy from spiritual animals. They had four major spiritual animals, from cardinal directions, and could draw spells from them while facing the correct compass direction. It was noticed fairly quickly, by those who used that class, that the sun didn¡¯t rise in a constraint direction, however the direction they drew power from stayed the same. There were also classes like the ''witch doctor'', which gained magic by harvesting the souls of the dead. They were considered to be unpleasant to be around, as they had a tendency to kill other players for extra spell resources.


    When Laura first started playing she saw a class that appealed to here almost instantly. The ''apothecary''; amongst the classes that could heal it was by far the most criticized. It had a bad health stat growth rate, it could only equip three types of weapons, and its healing method was non-magical and was slow when compared to other healers. The worst part was that at low levels, they could only provide healing in certain environments. Despite knowing all that, Laura still wanted to be one. She had dreamed about being a wise, all knowing doctor, at-peace with nature with a small shop that was soaked with the smells of herbs.


    To fulfil that dream she entered her capsule and booted the game. When prompted to make a username she entered ¡°Lotus Crane¡± and was taken to the character creation menu.

 Chapter 2 – The beasts at bay

    The spawn point was the first real challenge when people first started playing. There was only one, and it was covered in beasts. After waves of people logging on for the first time the beasts were either dead or full. Either way that allowed players to get a footing in the camp. Within a week they had pushed out to new locations and made new spawn points. The class tinker was especially important to players. They were a production type class but unlike other types they were able to use any craft skill, to some extent. Where there real value was, however, was in their ability to found camps. While any players could set up a group of tents, only a tinker could make a camp. The difference was that a tinker made camp was a spawn point, where players could resurrect and new players could start.


    It was a very fluid system, as beast and monsters would try to destroy spawn points. It also seemed that if two points were made too close together it defaulted to the one made by the higher level tinker. When Lotus went to spawn for the first time she chose a point that was roughly midway between the original camp and the furthest one. Her reasoning was simple, the frontline was dangerous for new players, and they often found themselves in a death cycle. While she wanted to avoid that she also wanted to avoid the original camp. As most people chose start there it was hunted to the point of being barren and the valley it was located in had been thinned of trees. While players with the farmer class made attempts as reviving the earth around it, they were throwing cups of water into a volcano, hoping to hold back to flow. Most gave up and started to walk to newer camps.


    If she was going to go there anyway Lotus would rather start there then walk there. As such she chose to spawn at the camp labelled, Fred¡¯s Discount Swords. Fred was a tinker who entered as a part of the first wave. After experiencing the repeated death and re-spawn that all the first wave players went through, he insisted on becoming the best smith there was. During the outward push of the first week he stumbled across a cave, rich with mineral deposits and ores. To make matters even better for him, it was close to a river with a good supply of clay. Using everything he could he set out to ensure new players had the essential equipment they required.


    Nothing, however, was free. He would make them the swords, bows, armours and tools they needed, but he would always turn a profit. If a new player wanted a sword, he¡¯d make one, but they¡¯d then have to use that sword to hunt for materials to pay for the sword. If someone wanted tools then they¡¯d work the mine or craft weapons and armours. If anyone took equipment and didn¡¯t pay it back, Fred would set a bounty. Veteran players would travel back from the frontline for a chance at one of Fred¡¯s bounties. The allure was very strong; Fred, as a survivor of the first wave, was one of the highest level tinkers, and he set aside his best equipment for bounties.


    Not that too many people were willing to cross him. He was a very imposing person. Fred was taller than most, well passed the two meter mark, and broad shouldered enough that his height didn¡¯t seem lanky. Furthermore, the hours he spent behind a forge lest him bulky and soot-stained. Behind his kind words were the slightest hint of malice. When you entered a deal with him, you knew you were selling your soul to a devil.


    Devil though he defiantly was, the number of people that accepted his offer strained his ability to meet the demand. While cursing them as fools, he happily gained a steady stockpile of materials. The strange part was, unlike the original camp, the environment around Fred¡¯s Discount Swords seemed to flourish. That was another job Fred would order. Farmer, rangers, fishermen, tamers and demonologists all ensured a healthy supply of plants, trees, beasts and monsters. Over consumption and reckless destruction would lead to bounties just as readily as stealing. As Fred put it, ¡°Trying to take anything from my land without putting something back is just as stealing as taking a hammer outta my hands.¡±


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    Looking over herself, Lotus could see the few items she started with. For playing as an apothecary she started with only a simple hemp dress, which was styled like a summer dress, and a scythe made from a brittle wood with a blade that seemed to be stone.  Her feet sunk into some fresh, moist soil and the earthy feeling notified her that shoes weren¡¯t part of her starting package. A pouch like bag was slung across her body. Although its total weight might have been less than that of the scythe, it felt heavier as it sat uncomfortably against her body. Inside the bag was the renowned default starting package. It was just as she had read; two short torches, a flint and steel, a thin blanket, a water skin and two days¡¯ worth of dried food. They were the basics that no-one could do without.


    It was a popular topic on the forums; which class had the worst starting gear. There were art type production classes, like sculptors and painters, that complained about not even starting with a weapon. There were the geomancers; power users with only enough charge to launch the lowest level of spells, and only once. There were witch doctors, which needed jars to trap souls in, but start with none. Amongst the debate there was a shining class that declared itself the worst package of all; the apothecary was the only class, which had been discovered, that started without shoes. Other than that, the starting weapons were also useless in combat. It was decided, apparently at random, which type of weapon a player would start with from class compatibility. The apothecary could start with either a scythe or a sickle, both of which were made too brittle to be of any use against monsters.


    To make up for that, they gained the herbal lore skill which improved as they levelled. It was an ability that appraised any plant or fungus. At first level it could only tell the general knowledge about plants in forests but rumours had it that at its highest level, an apothecary could find plants with healing properties in absolutely any environment. Another feature they had was poison resistance. It was basically the ability to take poison without getting ill. At low levels the effect wasn¡¯t much but it grew rapidly. It seemed fairly important to have that ability, since a lot of new healing recipes came through trial and error.


    On entering the cave that served as the main office for Fred¡¯s camp, she was greeted by a secretary-like person who swiftly ran her through the procedure for gaining equipment and repaying it. The only thing that she wanted was a more durable weapon. As there wasn¡¯t much demand for scythes, the price for them was somewhat unreasonable and the repayment would take far too long. As such, dejected that her play had already started to fall apart, Lotus Crane left the camp having accomplished nothing.

 Chapter 3 – Worlds Apart

    For Dawn Light, there was no class that could compare to the author. Sure, she was currently suffering extreme hardship from its low-level abilities and reliance on expensive items, but she knew deep down that it would be the most powerful class of all. If she could get twenty sheets of paper and some leather to bind them with, she could craft a special book that would let her replicate any ability she had seen of any class. Only abilities she of a level lower than her own could be used, however, and at a reduced effectiveness, also. She also didn¡¯t have any of the specialty equipment that those classes had, so she would have to buy those, also. Despite those setbacks she knew that, going forward, her class would show its worth. Even if the amount of paper she would need for higher level skills increased drastically and carting around books was heavy, they were small compared to the versatility her class brought.


    So far she had the following books; Tinker: Carrying Capacity Boost, Tinker: Tinkering, Merchant: Expert Evaluation, Geomancer: Crystal Casting. The reason she had so many books already was because she was working for Fred. Every time she went to make a book, she would be required to make twenty of that book. The paper was pulped by her and other workers with wood and tools made by other debt-workers. Books were a surprisingly popular item, despite only providing the skill effect to two classes. Because a skill book contained a detailed analysis of how a skill works, people would often buy books on their own skills to get more competent at using them. The only class that could write a skill book was the author, but they weren¡¯t the only class that could gain skills from using them. The loremaster was a class that could also do so.


    Dawn had chosen the books she wanted fairly carefully. There were a number of skills that sold well and a number of skills that were useful to her, personally. Skills that were both had the highest priority. The skills that she got from Fred, carrying capacity booster and tinkering, were particularly important to her. Since she intended to carry a lot of books around with her she got carrying capacity booster, which she needed to be able to carry more. Tinkering was a skill that let the user craft any category of item with a higher difficulty when compared to more specialised skills. Having that let her craft the items she would need to use acquired skills, and pay off her debt sooner.


    The merchant skill, expert evaluation, let her understand how much an item or service would be worth. It wasn¡¯t a skill that she wanted to get, but Fred insisted that she get it and help out with the shop. The only combat skill she had, so far, was crystal casting. It was the core talent for geomancers, and let them convert power into crystals and crystals into spells. It was the reason geomancers were being called Money Mages, they had to convert valuables into energy. If a group found a large stone overflowing with fire energy they would have to choose, have the stone turned into a weapon, or useful item, or let the geomancer take the energy out, and turn it into a normal rock. It wasn¡¯t Dawn¡¯s first choice, but it was the first magic type she saw used, and was relatively simple to use.


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    She originally planned to stay at Fred¡¯s place for a short time, but had already spent several in-game days there. Her debt loomed over her, as if daring her to make a break and escape. She may well have done that, if not for having seen what happened to the last person to try it. Instead, she was going to pay it off as fast as possible, while observing as many skills as she could. Once she paid of her debt, and after getting a few more blank books, she would start her adventure.


    After working for Fred for nearly three weeks of in game time, she had finally paid everything off. With relief streaming from every pore, she stretched facing the rising sun and set off into the forest. The experience she had gained form working there had pushed her up a few levels and she had gained the second key author skill, voice. Voice was a form of magic that converted certain words into spells. Unfortunately, it was also very tiring. The highest level author boasted that he could use Voice three times without rest, but when told to prove it he fainted during the third. There was no doubt it was powerful, but fainting in front of a monster meant death. Instead, she used it to farm energy to use in crystal casting. All she had to do was command the ground to freeze, and then collect the energy as a crystal for later use. She had tried it with other elements, but ice was both the safest and easiest to work with.


    It was a very slow, grinding process, as each time she did it she would only gain the smallest speck of a shard and then have to rest. During the time she spent at camp she had built up a small pile of crystals, a pile that would disappear quickly when she started to cast spells. After writing book after book to pay off her debt, Dawn was sure that she could stand repetitive tasks. She was sure that she could secure a supply of crystals.


    Hefting her heavy bag and adjusting the weight, she walked towards a nearby forest. For the first time in a long time she would be by herself. Thoughts about the dangers being alone would bring floated into her mind briefly, but she shrugged them off like they were someone else¡¯s concerns. The ground crunched and squelched under her sturdy boots, as she walked wistfully through the forest. It wasn¡¯t long before she encountered her first creature. It seemed to be a large rat, about the size of a medium dog, with fur that stood on end. As she curiously approached she could hear a static sound, faintly but audibly, from around the rat¡¯s body. Before she could react a bolt of energy struck her in her side and pushed her backwards. She rolled to her side as fast as she could, trying to get back onto her feet.


    The rat was fast. The rat was way too fast. By the time she stood up it had moved from where it was. Looking around in terror, the rat was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly pain shot through her body through her back and she collapsed to the ground. Her body shook with a spasm, pain unlike anything she had ever felt rocketed through her body. Tears streamed from her eyes as she tried to manage the burning pain. As abruptly as it started, the pain ended. Turning around she saw the rat had been split in half and a strange woman was placing plants in her wounds.


    The woman was shorter than her, and seemed younger. She had long black hair that flowed all the way down her back. Her fierce green eyes seemed like jade, like the anger of the forest itself. A small shutter went down her back as she was both drawn to and repulsed by those eyes.

 Chapter 4 – The Hero of the first wave

    Roland Five was known as the Hero of the First Wave. Despite his opposition to the title, the name stuck. For him, the first wave wasn¡¯t something that had heroes. And if it did, and only if, there were other people that were far more deserving of that title.


    He logged into the game the moment he saw it on his games library. It wasn¡¯t that he was curious or cautious but simply made a mistake. He had heard about a game with a similar name that was in development and thought that the company had made an accidental release. He wanted to learn as much about the game before that mistake was fixed. When he entered the game it was obvious that it wasn¡¯t that, but it looked interesting enough, so he continued playing it anyway.


    He selected the adventurer class. From the class description, it seemed to be a fighter variant that focused on combat within the wilderness. The fighter class was essentially a blank slate. It could focus on one weapon, one type of weapon, one size or category of weapons, or generalise to any weapon. They had more abilities and choices than any other class, but few of them were more complicated than hit the thing with the thing.


    He chose his abilities to focus on defence and speed. Increased movement when not wearing leg armour, increased defence from shields and chest armour and increased strike speed from one handed weapons; he forfeited a weapon focus to get those abilities. With a sword, shield and chest plate, all made of stone, he spawned in the original camp surrounded by monsters. A message rang through his head telling him that he was the twelfth person to start playing and that he would get a thirty-eight precent increase in experience gained for the next week.


    While listening to that message he was killed. Pain shot through his neck as it was impaled from behind by a lizard with a narwhal like horn. He chocked and panicked. He clutched at his neck. His eyes widened and he tried to breath. His mouth filled with blood, blood that would fall back down his throat and make breathing harder still. He had never experienced anything like that. That was obvious, had he died previously he couldn¡¯t be playing a game. As his body fell to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut, his vision blurred and the pain numbed. When he finished dying he found himself staring at the main menu once again. He could re-enter if he wanted. He could also not. It was obvious that any game where you could die before the system message had finished was broken. It was also obvious that pain and death were terrible. Yet he found himself logging in once more.


    As he stood, once again, in the original camp he could see many more people were logging in and dying. He quickly confirmed his equipment was still with him and quickly attacked the creatures around him. The horned lizard was his first opponent. He went to block its attack but its horn went through his shield. He was driven backwards and there was a hole in his shield. On the second attempt, he pulled his shield backwards as the blow impacted, like he was catching a ball with soft hands. That time the shield held and he had an opportunity to attack. His blade swung with unmatchable speed and sliced across the creatures face, leaving a cut on its scaly cheek. The attack was shallow. The attack was far too shallow. It barely even noticed Roland¡¯s attack. It let out a coarse cry and attacked once again. Having gotten the hang of using the shield, he braced the attack easily.


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    While he was feeling like he might be able to keep it up and win, he felt once gain the cold embrace of death. The lizard had his complete attention and he hadn¡¯t noticed the horse sized mantis behind him. Death came quicker the second time, as the blade pierced his brain with ease.


    Once again he was at the main menu. Most people that entered the first wave hadn¡¯t tried a second time and amongst those who did, even fewer went for a third. Roland, however, did press that log in button once more. He retained his equipment, though its condition hadn¡¯t improved. He waited till the mantis wasn¡¯t near the lizard before once again attempting to kill it. He was killed a third time, before he made it to the lizard, by a snake that was as thick as a cat and long enough to warrant that thickness. On his fourth attempt he blocked against an interfering creature and was skewered by the lizard. On the fifth he managed to cut the lizards tail off before he was killed by a burning cat. On the sixth he managed to wound one of its legs but on the seventh his shield broke. On the eighth his sword followed his shield. On that same life, he stumbled, literally tripped, on a human body. Since when players died their bodies disappeared, he assumed that it was the body of a non-player character, a NPC. He was lucky. Really lucky; the body was clutching a sharp metal sword and small round metal shield.


    As he equipped the sword and shield, he turned to find the lizard. With his target in front of him he charged forward to meet it. On the ninth attempted, he retained the metal equipment. He yelled out to nearby players, telling them to look for bodies with better weapons. Using what they could find and repeatedly re-spawning Roland and a few others eventually cleared the camp. With the bonus experience and with fighting so many creatures he had levelled up a number of times. Once the camp was safe a number of players returned. They were the second wave, those who didn¡¯t have to go through the cycle of death. They looked at the first wave as madmen and heroes, and the first wave looked at him like a leader.


    Whether he liked it or not, that was the beginning of his nickname. The hero amongst heroes, Roland had unlocked a title that sat beneath his name, which floated above his head. He unlocked the title of Hero of the First Wave and he had no way to change it. Not that the title was without benefit. Having that title granted him an additional experience bonus. As he led the push forward, expanding their territory, he would gain experience faster than other players. He was the highest level player and the leader of the player army. When momentum faded and players started to make camps and towns his army disbanded. Roland continued to push forward alone. He was an adventurer. He was a knight. He was favoured by the twelfth world.

 Chapter 5 – Druid

    Lotus Crane watched from a nearby bush as a player called Dawn Light fought against a static rat. They were a very common enemy in those woods, as thunder rats gave birth to litters of twenty at a time. They weren¡¯t particularly strong but it was rare to see one by itself. What was surprising to Lotus was that the tall blond author came to the forest alone, despite being only level five. Since she was so obviously weak, she should have brought some more people with her. If she wanted to be alone, at the very least she should have chosen a safer place to start. Looking at her stats and equipment, even the rat was stronger than her.


    Inspect was a common skill, and a useful one at that. It showed simple details about a target, such as their class, race, level and elemental affinity. Inspect would normally take a long time to improve but since it activated whenever herbal lore was used, it grew quite quickly for her. At the amateur level, it would usually only say the race of a monster, a player¡¯s name and any titles, or a brief description of an object. When it reached the experienced-amateur level, it revealed a monster¡¯s level, but only if it was less than her own. After a few more stages, she reached her current level, sub-par expert. At that stage she could get the complete information on any target at a lower level to her and partial information on a target five levels higher. For some reason she felt like the level names were insulting her.


    Having spent two in-game weeks alone in the forest, mostly avoiding people and working on her apothecary skills, she felt that she had become somewhat feral looking. Her clothes were sown together plants and her hair was caked with a glossy red sap. Her scythe had long since been replaced with one made from the arm of a large mantis. Not only was the blade stronger and lighter, the natural ridges held poisons effectively, making it the perfect weapon for her.


    Within her first day in the forest, Lotus had noticed that herbal lore pointed out dangerous plants just as readily as helpful ones. With her strength and equipment, poisons became her strongest weapon very quickly. She paid careful attention to how the poisons worked, compounding them to make them more effective or target specific areas. The poison she was most proud of was one that destroyed the targets brain, but left the meat edible.


    During her second in-game week in the forest, she encountered some players harassing a young golden fox and kicking its dead parent around. Seeing that kind of thing really bothered her, and she swiftly took action. She pelted quick growing vine seeds at them and while they were confused she followed that with some plant growth accelerating liquid. Spiked vines shot out from the seeds and spread out over the players¡¯ bodies, trying to chase down every drop of the accelerant. Unable to move, the players could do nothing but wait for her scythe. After she treated the fox¡¯s wounds she received two system messages saying, ¡°Title unlocked, Favoured of the 13th World.¡± and ¡°Unique class unlocked. The 13th World¡¯s Druid class is now available on levelling up.¡±


    On inspecting herself, Lotus found that it was true; the Favoured of the 13th World title sat beneath her name. The title¡¯s description read, ¡°A player who acts in a way that the 13th world approves of or otherwise has gained its favour. With this title the voice of the world can be heard and the traditional method of power casting becomes possible¡±.


    A druid was like a nature loving wizard, and as such had the same strange problem as a wizard. If the title description was to be believed, if she changed her class to a wizard or a druid she would be able to uses spells. Furthermore, she could choose a unique class. Unique classes could only be held by one player at a time and were generally slightly better than the class they were based on. There was a rumour on the forums that Fred had the unique class devilish businessman but didn¡¯t use it, since it would drive way customers. Whether that was true or just something started by a disgruntled customer, he wouldn¡¯t say.


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    Without hesitating, Lotus went and fought some more creatures to get the experience she needed to gain her next level. It felt right to her that on her 13th level she would become a 13th World¡¯s Druid. The list of added skills and abilities was somewhat long and in the corner of her vision was a transparent symbol that looked like an open book. When she shut that eye she could see a list of the spells she could cast. Amongst her skills there were a few that she was happy to see. Herbal lore was replaced with natural lore, the improved version that also granted information about animals, beasts, insects and naturally occurring things. She also gained several skills from the communication category, which allowed the user to understand and be understood by the target, depending on the skill. She gained Communicate: Animal, Communicate: Plant, Communicate: Elemental Spirit and Communicate: World. Although she had those skills, they wouldn¡¯t be particularly useful until they were levelled up. At their lowest level, she could only talk to plants and animals that already had near-human level intelligence.


    As Lotus watched the static rat attack Dawn, she couldn¡¯t help but remember the fox. To her, Dawn seemed every bit as weak and defenceless as that young creature and the rat was picking on her because of it. Had the rat finished her off quickly, instead of playing with her, Lotus might not have made that connection; but since she noticed, she couldn¡¯t ignore it.


    With practiced ease, she snuck soundlessly behind the rat and dispatched it with her scythe. With the nuisance dealt with, she went to work treating the injured Dawn. Dawn¡¯s skin was smooth to the touch and its pale colour had reddened from the shock. It was also warm to the touch, hot even, from both body heat and the extra volts that travelled through her.


    Taking a mixture of herbs from her pouch, Lotus staunched the wound with a moss like plant and numbed the pain with a mild poison. She then bandaged it with a curative leaf, letting a poultice work its way through Dawn¡¯s body. The way she twitched with surprise at Lotus¡¯s appearance reminded her of the fox and was very cute. She found herself petting Dawn¡¯s head and saying, ¡°There, there, you¡¯re safe now.¡±


    As Dawn stood up, she was thrown off balance by her heavy bag. Lotus tried to contain a joy filled laugh at the sight. After regaining her footing and brushing the dirt off her clothing, Dawn took a deep breath and started to speak.


    ¡°Thank you for saving me, that monster was small so I thought it would be weaker.¡± She said with a small voice that seemed to hide her embarrassment, and highlight that she thought the rat was strong.


    ¡°No worries, I don¡¯t like it when the weak get picked on, so I wanted to help you out.¡± As Lotus said that, Dawn seemed to shrink even smaller. Although she meant well, Lotus had reminded Dawn just how weak she was and the pride she had placed in her class was hit. After all, she was saved by someone who was obviously an apothecary, one of the classes that were shunned for being weak. Although, Dawn couldn¡¯t be sure that she was an apothecary, since there was a level difference and she couldn¡¯t use inspect on her.


    Thinking about her own survival, Dawn knew that she would need the ability to heal and some kind of close range fighting ability. From what she had seen, Lotus had both of those. If she could observe her activate those abilities, Dawn could copy them for herself.


    As such she asked, ¡°Would it be alright if I travelled with you for a while, I¡¯m not familiar with this forest and you seem like you can handle yourself?¡± She asked with the meekest voice she could manage. If acting weak would get the skills she wanted, then weak she would act.


    Somewhat confused, but nonetheless happy, Lotus replied, ¡°Sure. I¡¯d love to travel with you.¡±

 Chapter 6 – The Polar Bear’s Wooden Wife Part 1

    Dima Volk felt out of place amongst other alchemists. He was a more than two meters tall and people would say that he was as broad as two mountains. His large build, pale skin and white hair led to people giving him the nickname Polar-Bear. He disliked that name for several reasons. The strongest amongst his grievances was that it took longer to say then his full name. Why would anyone use a nickname longer than his full name? What was the point in that, he wondered? The wastefulness of it aside, he also disliked being compared to a beast. He acted out each of his motions with thought and planning. That his attitude was dismissed and his appearance was what was focused on was annoying, and somewhat disappointing.


    The use of that nickname, however, wasn¡¯t why he shied away from others with the same class. It had more to do with how out of place he felt around them. There were two main purposes for alchemists, potions and bombs. As such, the typical person who chose that class was small, skinny, weak or intellectual. It was not the kind of class that attracted people that could get the nickname Polar-Bear. Other alchemists would act afraid of him or mistake him for a fighter, and that fear made it uncomfortable for him to be around them. Truthfully, he did consider himself more of a fighter them a healer. He learnt how to make both potions and bombs mostly as a formality. His real goal with the class was different.


    If an apothecary was the best class at manipulating the natural parts of things; than the alchemist was the best class at manipulating the magical components. If a plant could be used for in medicine then it could be ground into magic powder. While that wasn¡¯t always the case, it was that way a lot of the time. Most things contained at least a little magical energy and mixing energies was what alchemy was about. One combination he was fond of was mixing a heat-stone based powder with a sonic-bone powder and just a little cold-crystal powder, which resulted in a force-based explosive power. In short, an effective alchemic gun powder. When he discovered that recipe a system message rang through his head telling him that he had unlocked the gunner prestige class.


    Prestige classes were, essentially, unique classes that could be held by more than one person. Although, it would be more accurate to say the unique classes were individual prestige classes. They had conditions that had to be met before becoming them and could only be taken by a player at a level higher than ten, but were generally stronger, or at least more focused, then base classes. The gunner for example, could be considered to be an alchemist that has focused on the use of a single recipe.


    At the time, Dima wasn¡¯t far from level ten so he considered it a lucky find. When he went into his recipe list, he found three new items there. When he unlocked the class, schematics for three simple weapons had appeared. From a message that floated near them, it seemed that once he selected one, the other two would be removed from the list. The selection, apparently, effected how his skills would progress once he became a gunner. The options were a flintlock pistol, rifle and blunderbuss. With those options, he felt that the rifle would be best for simplicity and versatility. When he made the selection, not only did he get the schematic, a weapon and repair kit also appeared beside him. It seemed that it was a starting package for the class. He was thankful, but less so for the title that appeared at the same time.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.¡°Title unlocked, First Gunner.¡±  From the title description he found that the items were because of the title and not because of the class.


    After securing a reasonable supply of alchemic powders and bullets for his weapon, he set off on an adventure. He had been working out of a town that sprung up near the original camp, but found the environment toxic and the weather torturous. As someone accustomed to cold places, the heat of a summer like environment felt like it was melting him. Knowing his own preferences, and the necessities of his craft, he headed in a direction he guessed to be north, towards a vibrant old woods next to a glacier filled lake. How the two survived next to one another, he had no idea, but it seemed to fill his needs adequately.


    It was mid-morning on his third day of traveling when he encountered a NPC farmer. The farmer lived in a small hut with his family, surrounded by the land he worked. He was cautious at first, but offered Dima food and a place to rest. Though he was grateful for the offer, Dima could see that the farmer¡¯s wife was unhappy with the offer, and politely declined. As he left the land, the farmer warned him to avoid the woods; that the spirit people were heavily bound by traditions and it could be dangerous to offend them.


    He was curious about the so-called spirit people. From what he had read in the forum, if a player wanted to play as a race other than human they would have to meet and befriend a member of that race. While he didn¡¯t particularly want to stop being human, he thought that having the option available would be better than not. He made a point to himself that, should he meet one, he would do his best to befriend a spirit person.


    In the woods, at around lunch time, he could hear the flowing of a nearby river. From a distance he could hear the splashing of water and a woman singing. He couldn¡¯t recognise the words but the melody and voice were very soothing. He thought about approaching, but was warned off by his common sense telling him not to go near a woman alone by a river. He didn¡¯t think much good could come from it, although a lot of harm could result. The woods were a dangerous place, and any woman confident enough to play alone in the river was sure to be armed.


    As he thought to himself, he failed to notice that the song had ended. Instead he was woken form his thoughts by a scream. It wasn¡¯t a playful scream, but one filled with absolute fear. Running towards the scream, he could see burning wolves on the far side of the river. Burning wolves were large copper-brown wolves that emanated searing heat. Grass and leaf-litter around the creatures caught fire and the fire was absorbed into the creatures¡¯ fur. When enough fire was absorbed, a burning ring appeared around the wolves and shot out like a disk.


    It took a moment for Dima to notice that they weren¡¯t targeting him, but instead the disks headed towards a strange structure at the bank of the river. It had four wooden legs and was roughly human shaped with two arms and a head. Oddly, the head and upper body seemed to be made of glass, with soft glowing spheres of light in both the chest and head. The two lights were different colours and he found himself being draw, completely fixated, to the golden light in the chest. It was like a small star, fresh wheat and the first light at dawn. He felt an overwhelming desire to possess that light. If not for the wolves he might have run down at that very moment.


    As strange as it seemed, the statue moved to try and avoid the attacks, while letting out a startled, feminine cry. One of its legs was unable to avoid and started to burn. The statue then rolled into the river, as a sobbing sound rang out.

 Chapter 7 – The Polar Bear’s Wooden Wife Part 2

    Somewhat confuse, Dima Volk decided to attack the wolves. Bringing our his rifle, he broke the barrel open and slipped a white coloured oiled-paper pouch in the side closest to himself and a blue coloured pouch in front of that. He locked the barrel back in place and brought the weapon up to aim. In his mind, he activated his snipe skill and the vulnerable areas of the wolves were highlighted in his vision.


    As he pulled the trigger, a thunder like crack rang out and the wolves froze. They froze in a figurative sense, that they were frighted and confused by an unfamiliar and dangerous sound. However, they also froze in a literal sense, as the alchemic reactants in the bullet combined on impact and exploded in a wave of frost. It was a powerful recipe, one that Dima had acquired from another alchemist at a very steep price. At the time he felt like he was being extorted, but in seeing the effect of the burning wolves, he felt that he might have gotten a good deal. Though only the wolf that took the full brunt of the bullet was dead, the others were slowed enough that he could deal with them using more conventional bullets.


    After the wolves were dead and the used bullets were collected, he was about to start skinning them, and processing them for alchemic materials, when he heard sobbing from behind him. Turning around with detest for his own negligence he saw the statue hunched over in the river with its two arms pressed against one side of its cylindrical head. From the sound of crying, although there were no tears, she (?) was distressed. He was kicking himself that he hadn¡¯t taken her thoughts into consideration. She had been hurt and a stranger started making noise and killing around her, of course she would be crying.


    Heading over to her, he fished a healing potion out of a pouch on the side of his belt. He had no way of knowing if it would work on such a different creature, but he felt that attempting to help would at least calm her. When he arrived at her side he could hear her mumbling something, though he couldn¡¯t make out what it was.


    ¡°Can you understand me?¡± he asked, trying to sound as non-threatening as he could, ¡°I want to treat you wound; would you let me see it?¡±


    Still through tears and faint mumbling she nodded and raised the burnt leg out of the water. Pouring the potion on the singed black wood seemed to work, restoring it to a health sap-soaked, oaken brown. Relieved to see that it worked, Dima looked at his patient gave his best smile. He held out his hand to help her up.


    Still sniffling, the statue like wooden woman managed a few clear words to him. ¡°Responsibility¡­ Take responsibility


    for seeing me naked.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    Hearing her, his mind broke. Given her alien appearance, he hadn¡¯t considered the possibility that she might need clothes. It made sense, though. He wore clothes, why wouldn¡¯t she. Looking over to the riverbank, he saw a small basket hanging from a tree. From what the farmer had said, the spirit people were very strict about their customs. If he handled the situation badly he could be in serious trouble. Taking a deep breath he tried to sort things out as calmly as possible.


    ¡°Umm¡­ By responsibility, you don¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Marriage¡± She answered before he could even finish, ¡°You saw me naked, so you have to take responsibility and marry me. Otherwise I¡¯ll never be able to.¡±


    That stunned him. God damned programmers added something like that to the game. What era are they living in?


    ¡°You know, even if you¡¯re seen¡­¡± he started to say, before he was cut off once again.


    ¡°When a spirit person is seen naked a piece of their soul enters their partner and they are joined.¡± Hearing that, gave some context to the rule, but he still hated the programmers who implemented that. ¡°I won¡¯t let you weasel out of it. Even if you try to leave, I can use the connection between our souls to follow you.¡±


    Thus began Dima Volk¡¯s marriage to The Spirit of Blooming Oak. Later that day they arrived in her village and it was officially registered. Under Oak¡¯s name was the title [Dima Volk¡¯s Wife]. He wasn¡¯t willing to look at his own titles, but he got the feeling he had something similar there. The village was, during the ceremony, recorded as a re-spawn point and the option to change his race into a tree spirit.


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    The clothes that Oak was so embarrassed to be without, turned out to be a single wooden plate that fit over the clear section of her body. Although it seemed otherwise indistinct from the rest of her wooded body, one side of it and an elaborate, vaguely Celtic, engraving. He didn¡¯t know what its real purpose was, but for him it served as a way to tell where she was facing. Despite forward and backward being otherwise identical, Oak and the other spirits seemed to be only able to see in one direction. Furthermore, Oak noticed him staring at her chest and started to fidget in embarrassment. Thankfully he learnt that outside of the village, and therein knew to be more discrete.


    He was also thankful for the floating names as, although each spirit seemed to have no difficulty telling each other apart, to Dima, they all seemed identical. When he asked Oak about it, she said, in an upset tone, that the colours and sizes of the lights in their heads were different. From a distance he couldn¡¯t really see it, but when she stood next to her brother it looked obvious. His brother-in-law¡¯s light was slightly greener then Oak¡¯s angle-wing pink light. Her light was also larger by about a finger¡¯s width at the radius. He later heard that the closer the light was to white, the stronger the spirit was and the women had larger lights.


    The average level amongst the villagers was around fourteen, though the outliners for that were extreme. His new father-in-law, a blacksmith, was level forty-five. Apparently, he did a lot of adventuring when he was young. His light was a pale blue-white. After meeting his new father, he resigned himself to the fact that there was no way out.


    Oak was acceptant of the fact that he was a traveller, unexpectedly so. She said that she would travel with him for a while, to make sure he remained faithful, but would eventually go back to the village to have their children. As Oak was sure that they could have children, he wasn¡¯t going to question the method or the reason for her certainty. As his young wife was a level ten blacksmith, he had no issues with taking her along. After all, a blacksmith was probably better able to fight then he was. Not only were they the best prestige class for crafting, they had the ability to use any weapon or armour they made, whether they had the skill for it or not. They usually focus on two or three types of crafting, but crafting skills they focused on could reach higher levels than other classes. High level blacksmiths could even craft weapons with naturally occurring enchantments. As Oak was only level ten, and therefore had only just become a blacksmith, that was a long way off, but she would still be better in melee then him.


    Aside from formalising the marriage and introducing Dima to her family, the main reason for coming to camp was to assemble adventuring gear. After changing into armour and filling a bag with essentials, her father met her at the front door. He knew that she had wanted to go on an adventure for a long time. He also knew that he didn¡¯t want her to go alone. It was quite a shock when he suddenly brought home a husband, but the man reminded him of an old friend and he trusted his daughter¡¯s judge of character. He knew she wouldn¡¯t have pretended the soul trade was irreversible if she hadn¡¯t seen something in him. As she left he gave her a small pouch. It was a traveling forge; a small workspace that had been compressed inside a bag with a spell. His father had passed it to him when he set out and now he passed it to Oak. He hoped to live to see the day when she passed it on to her child.


    The young couple left after spending the night in the village. They left, arm-in-arm, towards the glacial lake.

 Chapter 8 – The noble quest for power

    John and Jacob considered themselves exceptionally lucky. The day before the worlds crashed into Zen, they had been in the city. From what they had heard, the city was probably crushed by the new world. Otherwise, it was trapped in the void without power. Being trapped in a city that was slowly loosing air was not how they wanted to go. Granted, they didn¡¯t really know how they wanted to go. It probably involved copious amounts of drinks, however it was. The fact that a local small-time crime lord ran them out of town was a real blessing to them.


    The brothers strongly resembled each other, to the point of being mistaken for twins, despite there being an age difference. They also got along very well. They both knew their own strengths, and used any advantage they could get to get by. When a white flash of light engulfed the world, and words and coloured bars appeared over their gruff dishevelled, deep brown hair, they each found themselves with new abilities that they hadn¡¯t possessed before.


    John became a bartender and Jacob was a gambler. They knew why they had those classes; it was their rolls in their favourite scam. John would get the mark too drunk to think straight and Jacob would fleece them for all they were worth. Naturally they would cheat. A drunken mark wouldn¡¯t be able to tell the difference between them, and that really made cheating easier.


    The pair did their best to avoid a hard day¡¯s work, through there were days where they did nothing but run from guards, that left their skin sun-browned and scarred.


    Another blessing that came from the flash of light was an influx of gullible, strong people. They were strange people that acted oddly and called themselves players. It was truly great luck for them. The brothers were in no way strong looking, and they had disarming smiles. Strong people looked down on them, and the players seemed to think that the ¡°enpeesees¡±, what they called non-players, wouldn¡¯t trick them.


    They quickly discovered that anything could be bet against a gambler. Not just money and items, players would bet strange things like strength, health and experience. It was an unmatchable sensation when he first felt his strength instantly grow. Although his body didn¡¯t change, he found himself suddenly able to lift far more.  After he first experienced it, he noticed; the players were far stronger than normal people. Not only were they monsters that could come back from the dead, they were each stronger than a normal person at the same level.


    Beasts and monsters were bad enough, but now the world was being covered with demons. Jacob swallowed that thought and gave a charming smile to the female beast across the table from him. She was a player. She was a swordswoman. John had been drinking with her for most of the night and she was defiantly starting to lose her footing. John, with a light a light tone, spoke around the topic until the woman brought up the idea of gambling, as if it were her own.


    That was one way they liked to reduce the risk. They were never the one to suggest gambling. When the idea was brought up, they would act apprehensive, like they didn¡¯t think it was a good idea. If, once they sobered up, they realised they¡¯d lost everything there would be witnesses to say that it was their own stupid idea and the brothers were against it. It didn¡¯t always work, but there was always running.


    The bartender class was also a useful one. The more they drank, the stronger their abilities got, though they couldn¡¯t survive alcohol poisoning any more than anyone else. Furthermore, John found that he suddenly knew a form of martial arts that he hadn¡¯t previously known. He could also adjust the temperature of any nearby flame to 80? Celsius. Brewing drinks also took an unnaturally small amount of time. Not that he was complaining, the more they had, the more they could sell.


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    They had renovated a horse drawn cart, which they had won, into a moving tavern. They travelled between camps and settlements, amassing whatever those places had for themselves. Before long, Jacob was as strong, smart, charismatic and fast as twelve men and possessed a cabinet filled with a variety of weapons and armours.  His level, however, was still only five, as the brothers preferred running over fighting and having a high level might scare away players.


    Recently players would approach Jacob, sober, and gamble with him. They would say something like, ¡°Hay, look, it¡¯s a gambling min-game.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure what they meant, and it was riskier to play against sober players. For some reason, they would almost always buy a drink before-hand if he told them to. He overheard them say, ¡°Oh, a quest requirement, huh? That sounds good, then.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure what they meant, but it was probably just another pointless thing players did. After all, he wasn¡¯t one to turn down a free lunch.


    John was also happy with the situation, normally he would contribute to Jacob¡¯s business, but now Jacob was adding to his; and business was good. Most players seemed to not care about the quality of the drink, and several times he had watered down the drinks without being noticed. There were a few that demanded high quality drinks, but those were mostly just trying to look good for the people around them, and would pay a heavy premium for that vanity. One time, there was a particularly vulgar player pulling that act and John served him the same drink as everyone else. After all his demands and posturing he hadn¡¯t even noticed. Of course Jacob took everything he had before they left town.


    After leaving town they approached a forest. There was apparently a thriving player camp on the other side and they were making the decision whether to go through or around. They weren¡¯t in any rush and they had plenty of, ill-gotten, supplies so they wouldn¡¯t have any problems if they did go around. There were also fearsome beasts and dangerous bandits in there, so that was a point against going through also.


    The only real reason they were considering it was a rumour they had overheard. A rumour that said the forest had been blessed and was being protected by a pair of unmatchable beautiful angels. They had survived a long time by listening to rumours, and there was a chance to profit if there really were angels. From what they knew about angels, they were pure and powerful creatures. If Jacob could use that purity against them, he could take their power.


    The decision came down to whether they¡¯d trust the rumours or not. As they were making that decision, a pair of cute women left the forest. One was a tall, pale, blond with soft features, blue eyes and a heavy bag. The other was a short, Asian woman, with long black hair and piercing green eyes. Jacob was a little disappointed by them, as he preferred women with large breasts, though they were well within John¡¯s strike range. As they walked by, John called out to them.


    ¡°Pardon me, ladies, but did you happen to see the angels that are support to be living in there?¡±


    The looked at each other and gave a shrug. The blond was the one to reply, with a voice a sweet as honey, ¡°No, we haven¡¯t seen anything like that. We were in there for over a week, also. Are you sure you have the right place?¡±


    John sighed to himself and thanked the pair, passing them a bottle of one of his nicer meads, and then the brothers set off around the forest. If a pair of cute girls couldn¡¯t see the angels after a week in there, there wasn¡¯t a chance that the roguish brothers would bump into them while passing through.


    Somewhat disappointed, the pair opened a bottle of good ale and passed the time as the made their way to the oddly named Fred¡¯s Discount Swords.

 Chapter 9 – Angels

    Roland made a quick roll as he ducked under the claws of the tiger-bear that sliced through the space he had been standing moments before.  As he rolled, a sharp stone pierced his side, easily passing through his now tattered armour. His had felt faint as yet another source of pain flared through his body. Blood flowed steadily from the new wound, as it did from several others across his body. It was hard to focus, but he tried his hardest to track the creature¡¯s movements. He knew that he would die even if he won the fight, but he continued anyway.


    A day earlier he had returned from the frontline to meet with some friends and get new equipment. An alchemist and a blacksmith that he knew had teamed up with a sculptor that he didn¡¯t in order to find new methods of improving equipment. Alchemist could create coatings that granted powerful effects, but wore off when the liquid dried or got wiped off. Blacksmiths could engrave magical runes into equipment, but if the intricate rune got even slightly chipped or worn then the effect ended. Sculptors could engrave images into equipment that were very durable and lasted as long as the equipment did, but they couldn¡¯t control what effect the image would give. Two identical images on two identical pieces of equipment could give different effects, and the effects weren¡¯t always good. With the three working together they had devised a new enchantment system.


    First, the blacksmith devised what rune they needed to ensure that a liquid wouldn¡¯t dry on contact with the armour. Then the sculptor applied the runes and the alchemist applied the enchantment. That worked about half of the time. The sculptor¡¯s ability fixed the blacksmith¡¯s fragility problem but was simply too unpredictable and failed half the time. Furthermore, while the coating didn¡¯t fade anymore, it did dilute on contact with water. The fact that the technique required three classes to work, and one of the classes was a prestige class, meant that the equipment would be far too expensive to warrant the improvement. They gave up on that idea and looked for another way. The results of their trials were posted to the forum and they handed Roland the prototype armour.


    After trading monster materials for potions, coatings and a new shield, Roland went to leave town. As he was leaving, he saw a crowd of people gathering. Curious, he went to see what it was about. A man dressed as a mage, with a long pale green coat and hood, was standing in front of the crowd.


    ¡°Hear me and fear, lowly people whom call themselves player,¡± the man spoke with a voice that seemed to come from multiple directions at once, as if the sound level was consistent and not fading over distance, ¡°I am the Lord Demonist, Vash. The lowly you have built a town near my land and have not paid onto me a tribute. If you continue to go on with such disrespect, don¡¯t blame me for the plight you find yourselves in.¡±


    As he finished speaking, a towering naked man with blood red skin arose slowly from the ground like a synchronised swimmer. Vash stood comfortably on the giant¡¯s palm as the monster walked towards the forest.


    Roland quickly readied himself for a tough fight and ran after the giant.


    He caught up to them after entering the forest and then some distance. Despite its leisurely pace the giant still moved quickly, thanks to its size. Drawing his sword and bracing his shield, Roland charged forward. The giant¡¯s free fist slammed down to meet him, but Roland ducked to the side at the last minute. The force of the fist sent out a bellowing wind that pushed him back, but not before he got one attack in. When he ducked to the side he slashed vertically with his sword, making a line along the monster¡¯s forearm. Thick jelly-like red blood oozed slowly from the wound as it came towards where he was knocked to.


    A sword made of fire condensed in the creature¡¯s hand and it swung a heavy blow towards him. As he had yet to completely regain his footing, he couldn¡¯t move out of the way, and instead dropped his sword and took the attack with both arms on the shield. Pain shot through his arms and he felt like fractures had formed, but somehow he survived the blow. His shield wasn¡¯t as lucky, however, as the metal overlay was melted and the wooden underlay was cracked. It wouldn¡¯t be able to take any kind of hit so he dropped it when he picked his sword back up.


    Focusing on dodging, he avoided several more attacks. The ground they had been standing on was filled with holes and craters. He realised that if the giant wasn¡¯t holding Vash, Roland would have been dead a long time ago. Knowing that, he pressed that advantage. He remained on that side of its body, forcing it to make unnecessary moves and attack with reduced force. Whenever completely safe, he would make a quick, shallow cut, but never risked a heavy attack.


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    As the fight went on, the ground became even more damaged and uneven, causing Roland to trip. As he tried to get to his feet, the creature stamped its large foot heavily onto his back. He could feel the force through his body, like a pressure cooker boiling his organs. He survived only on the merit of his armour, which had small breaks throughout it.


    He focused his effort and energy into his arms, willing himself to stand and avoid the next attack, when suddenly he found himself falling.


    The ground couldn¡¯t take anymore and it fell, revealing a long berried cave system. Having fallen for several second he met the new ground with a heavy greeting. When he re-spawned he found himself still in the cave. Nearby was a natural alter, a resurrection point that occurred naturally and were known as a warrior¡¯s blessing. Until he went to another town, he would be stuck reviving in that cave.


    Looking around, he could see that Vash and the giant also died from the fall. Not knowing what else to do, he took a look at their bodies. Vash had a small pouch bag, which reminded him of a large perse, and a wand of some kind. Inside the bag were some coins, scrolls, broken potions and a book. Although the game translated everyone¡¯s spoken languages, it didn¡¯t change written language without skills. As such the book and scrolls were worthless to him. He put the wand into the bag and dumped it into his bag, even if he didn¡¯t know what they were, they might be worth something to someone.


    From deep in the cave he heard a low growl. He could see a monstrous tiger approach the area slowly. Readying himself, he looked for his sword, and found it not far away. As he lifted the rock that it was half under, he found his luck was worse than he thought. It wasn¡¯t that the sword was half buried; it was simply that there was only half a sword.


    As it was his only option, he gripped the half a weapon and waited for the beast to come closer. As it did, he could see it more clearly. It was light brown in colour, with black stripes decorating it. Its large body stalked slowly forward, with a heavy frame more bear like then tiger. The claws on its paws were like jutted curved blades, both heavy and sharp. It stood up on its back legs and let out a cry. Foam filled its mouth and it charged. It moved far faster than it looked like it was capable of and closed the distance before he could blink. The creatures paw smacked his left arm and sent him flying into a wall.


    As he tried to get up he could see his arm was in pieces, several breaks in the bone had pierced through the skin. He stumbled to his feet, only to be met with claws through his stomach. He fell to the ground once again and waited to be finished off. Another blow never came. The tiger-bear watched as he bled out, its snout distorted into a sick smile.


    After several minutes of torment and pain, he eventually died. He re-spawned only to have his head severed before he could even react. He revived once again, and this time dropped to his knees to avoid the hit. It didn¡¯t help much, as the creature¡¯s second hand scooped him up with its curved claws and sent him flying. He landed heavily on his neck and died.


    After ten more near-instantaneous deaths Rolland started to get an understanding on the creature¡¯s abilities and patterns. He started to be able to narrowly avoid attacks, or at least reduce the depth of the cuts.


    After taking a roll on a sharp rock he felt that he had lost too much blood to continue. He still fought on anyway though, ducking the fearsome attacks that were coming his way. Exhausted, he fell over once again and waited for an attack that never came. Thinking that it was just the sadistic nature of the creature, he was surprise when he opened his eyes. The creature was bound in vines and descending from the light were two beautiful figures. The golden haired angel sent lightning down from the heavens as the back haired angel bound it. As the tiger-bear struggled against the vines the black haired angel sliced into its head with a scythe.


    Although the weapon barely managed to break its skin, its struggles grew weaker with each passing moment. As the beast fell, Rolland¡¯s mind gave out and he fainted. He awoke to find his wounds treated and there was a ladder next to him. The shine had been cleaned also and an earthen dish filled with a soup was covered next to him. His amour had been slightly patched and, while his sword was still broken, some daggers made from the beasts claws were prepared for him.


    He didn¡¯t know what his title, favoured of the 12th world meant, but it seemed that the 12th world had sent angels to save him.

 Chapter 10 – Motives

    What surprised Lotus the most was just how weak Dawn could be. It wasn¡¯t just her level, which had risen substantially during the week they trained in the forest together, but all her actions and attacks seemed to lack impact. That she didn¡¯t seem even close to noticing was a quality that Lotus found endearing. Within the first hour together, Dawn¡¯s pride gave in and she asked Lotus to teach her the skills she wanted; a request Lotus had no problems with at all. What Lotus found most strange about that was that there wasn¡¯t much of a difference between when she was pretending to be weak, and her normal behaviour. Until she realised it herself, Lotus wasn¡¯t going to point it out.


    Strangely enough, the attack Dawn used least seemed to be her most effective.  Her voice skill was really powerful.


    From what she had read on the forums, it could even be used to command lower level monsters to simply die. The exact conditions for that command to work didn¡¯t seem to be known, but as a general rule, the greater the level gap the higher the success rate. Despite that ability being so powerful, Dawn seemed to only use it to make material for crystal casting.


    One day as they were traveling near the town side of the forest, they saw a knight fighting a giant. Through inspect, Lotus could see there were a lot of unique things about that player. They had the unique class, gallant knight, and two titles, Hero of the First Wave and Favoured of the 12th World. Furthermore he was a slightly higher level than Lotus and was completely equipped with quality items. Even without his name being displayed she would have recognised him as Roland Five. There were fan-pages on the forum dedicated to him.


    The pair hid nearby and watched the fight progress. When the ground collapsed, they were disappointed that they couldn¡¯t see the outcome. Peering down the hole they could see the situation he found himself in, but shrugged it off as not their problem. That was until Lotus noticed the blood the giant had left behind. That thick, jell-like ooze, it could only be a fire type elemental blood. Elemental blood was a high demand item since it was needed for nearly all advanced level crafting. For potions it replaced water as the base, for weapons it could treat wood and temper metal. It was even needed for ink in higher level books and scrolls. On top of which, it had a higher mana concentration then crystals, meaning a geomancer could cast with it without converting it to a crystal first. It was a powerful item and the giant had litters of it.


    As the tiger-bear started to wear itself out, Lotus threw seeds down to it and used the druid spells rapid growth and strengthen plant to bind it. Following that, Dawn used voice to create a strong updraft that let them jump down safely. As they fell, Dawn used some of her electric crystals to stun the creature. While it was stunned, Lotus gave it a quick stab to the head and let her poisons finish it off.


    After confirming that the creature was dead, the pair went to check on the fainted Roland. Seeing that his injuries were treatable by Dawn¡¯s clone of herb lore, Lotus went to collect as much of the elemental blood as she could. Having filled a dozen vials with the thick liquid she stored them carefully in her bag, wrapped up in soft leaves. Since Dawn was taking some time with her treatment, Lotus decided to make lunch. Quickly checking the forum for the best way to cook tiger-bears, she found the meat turned tender in soups. Following that she took the utensils and vegetables from Dawn¡¯s bag and started chopping them finely. With them in small pieces she placed a few nearby logs together and got Dawn to use voice to ignite them. With a strong fire instantly burning, she set a pot over it and browned the tiger-bear meat on it. She then filled it with water and a small amount of elemental blood. The vegetables were then added and the dish was left to cook.


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    Seeing that the meal was underway and her patient had been treated, Dawn started to carve the tiger-bear¡¯s claws into daggers. They were a strong material and it seemed a waste not to do anything with them. They also took the creature¡¯s pelt, since it looked like it would make a good blanket. After lunch was done and they had eaten, the pair cleaned the nearby resurrection shrine. While Dawn didn¡¯t really care about them, Lotus felt like keeping them clean was something that the 13th world would like her to do.


    Using the skill Communicate: Plant, and the rapid growth spell, Lotus convinced a nearby vine to grow into the shape of a ladder. She found, as she progressed through the skill levels, that plants really wanted to be talked to, and were very receptive to people that took care of them. Despite never having actually conversed with the world, the Communicate: World skill gradually went up levels as she used magic or cleaned natural shrines. As they left, they placed a couple daggers and a bit of the leftover soup with Roland. Lotus hoped that he would take helping him as payment for the elemental blood. Better yet, she hoped he didn¡¯t notice it. Having a high level player hunting them seemed troublesome so she thought it was time to start leaving the forest.


    For the remainder of that week they gathered whatever plants would still be useful when dried, or had a long storage life, and prepared more potent poisons with the elemental blood as a component. As they left the forest, at about midday, they saw a pair of suspicious brothers in a carriage. As they looked so seedy, Lotus and Dawn moved closer together and tried to avoid eye contact. When they passed safely and thought they had made it, one of them suddenly called out to them. Thankful he just seemed to want to know about some angels that were apparently living in the forest. Having no idea about that they told him and were thanked with a bottle of what seemed to be alcohol.


    That night as they camped between a mountain and a desert, they drank the drink with diner, having used the spell detect poison to confirm it was safe. It was a lot stronger then Lotus thought it would be and she quickly drank more than she could handle. The next morning she woke up in Dawn¡¯s bed with a hangover and a new scythe. Dawn, who was in the bed with her, gave her a sly smile and passed her some water.


    Before she could get any answers about what happened, they could hear the sound of people approaching.

 Chapter 11 – Gather

    Although she originally followed Lotus because she wanted to steal her skills, Dawn stayed with her because she started to enjoy being around her. Having spent a week training together, they had found a good rhythm together and could gauge each other¡¯s intentions fairly well. Despite her tendency to act like she was some kind of nature lover, Dawn knew that lotus was very mercenary. Not that she thought that was a bad thing. The way she pretended interested in helping people while taking the valuables around them was quite cute.


    It was also surprising to see how bad she was at holding her liquor. She might have thought that her poison resistance would work against it, but as they found out, it really didn¡¯t. During her drunken ramblings, Lotus let it slip that she thought the voice skill was her best ability Dawn had. It seemed she had thought of a lot of way to use it and was waiting for her to figure it out for herself. To test out a theory, she used voice to command Lotus¡¯s scythe to strengthen, which caused it to enlarge slightly and turn a sinister shade of black. Furthermore the blade¡¯s edge hooked more sharply, giving it a look like a hungry bird of prey, out seeking blood. It was far from a weapon that a hero would use.


    The next morning, as lotus was dealing with a hangover, they heard the sound of some people approaching. From what they could hear of the voices, they seemed to be an overly affectionate couple. The man¡¯s voice was deed and calm, a strong mix that built a reassuring aura. The woman¡¯s voice was soft and joy filled, energetic without being tiring. Without seeing them, they seemed to be the ideal couple. Hearing them flirt so early in the morning put Dawn in a bad mood and she sent Lotus a look that said, ¡°Let¡¯s kill them and take their stuff¡±.


    Responding with a determined nod, Lotus disappeared into some bushes. Dawn had noticed that plants seemed to really like Lotus, and would often move out of her way to avoid making sound when sneaking and covered her when hiding. When that was combined with Lotus¡¯s abilities and practice, she was as close to invisible in woods as a person could reasonably be.


    As Dawn readied a pair of daggers and took a position behind a tree, where she could wait for them to pass by. She was met with a strange sense of betrayal, or maybe disillusion, when she saw what the couple looked like. It wasn¡¯t an ideal, beautiful couple at all. It was like an abominable snowman taking his pet tree for a walk. Or maybe it was a coat hanger and a polar bear. Either way, their appearance and voices left a huge gap. The difference was enough that Dawn forgot to attack. She just stood there blankly and they went on their way.


    Almost a minute after they left, Dawn and Lotus started to prepare for the day, not mentioning what they saw and pretending that it never happened. Some small part of Dawn wanted to go chase them down, but the greater part saw them as unnecessary trouble. Instead they ate breakfast and packed their camp.


    At around lunch time they made it around the small mountain range and stood at the border between the mountain, the desert and a glacial lake. They had come to that spot intentionally, as Lotus was aware of some powerful plants that grew in that strange environment. As they searched the once again came across the strange couple. It seemed they looped around the other way and approached from a different side.


    For a few seconds the four stared blankly, before the tree-statue started to speak.


    Stolen story; please report.¡°Um, I¡¯m The Spirit of Blooming Oak Volk and this is my darling husband Dima Volk. It¡¯s nice to meet fellow travellers after not seeing anyone for some time.¡± Her voice stilled sounded out of place with her appearance but a hint of worry, maybe fear of strangers, could be heard from it. It also seemed that she was very proud of her apparent husband.


    ¡°I¡¯m Lotus and this is Dawn, we¡¯re traveling healers. If you have anything you need treated, feel free to tell us.¡± While Dawn tried to pull her thoughts together, Lotus brought out a practiced smile and began her sales pitch. Dawn had heard it a few times already, but she was always surprised by how genuinely concerned she sounded. Despite the concern, Dawn knew that Lotus was only really thinking about the contents of their bags. ¡°Even if it¡¯s only a minor thing, minor things can make the difference between life and death in the woods.¡±


    While they talked, the bear that was apparently called Dima looked away with a slight blush to his face. Dawn couldn¡¯t think why that was the case, but immediately after Oak pulled herself closer to him. Giving an understanding nod to Oak, Dawn similarly moved closer to Lotus.


    As the conversation progressed an agreement to travel together was somehow reached. Unknown to Lotus and Dima as to how, Dawn and Oak seemed to really get along. When the agreement was reached and their stats were revealed, Oak suddenly seemed shocked.


    ¡°Eeeeeh? You¡¯re a 13th World¡¯s Druid? Amongst my tribe, there¡¯s a story that the 13th world hates all people and would never favour anyone. What did you do to get the world¡¯s attention like that?¡±


    Lotus simply shrugged it off and said that she hadn¡¯t noticed the world being particularly cruel. In fact from her perspective, the world seemed quite kind, almost motherly. Furthermore, she shifted the conversation by pointing out that Oak was a NPC and started to tease Dima lightly about that. Dima, that was having a hard time interacting, started to respond to that and warmed up to them when the prodding forced him to participate in the conversation.


    Truthfully, Dawn wasn¡¯t sure why Lotus wanted to join up with them; she had assumed that Lotus would be against it. The reasons she gave, that more people would lower the workload and traveling with more people was more enjoyable, seemed to ring hollow. Dawn really couldn¡¯t think what her real motive was, but whatever it was it probably wasn¡¯t anything too bad. At the very least, Lotus didn¡¯t want one of the bounties she¡¯d read about on the forums, placed on her.


    After lunch, the four of them finished searching for the plants Lotus was after and they made their way towards the tallest ice mountain. Dima had heard a rumour that the glazier had a flat section near the top were a number of rare materials could be found. Furthermore, the materials were protected by some unique creatures. The creatures and materials appealed to both Lotus and Dima so they pushed their respective partners along with them.


    By working together Lotus and Dima made a potion that stoped the cold from affecting them, and gave them some protection against frostbite. It wasn¡¯t surprising that alchemists and apothecaries worked well together, and they made a potion that was better than either could have made by themselves and the research time was greatly reduced.


    With a warm feeling beneath their skin, the party moved through the snow, climbing towards the top of the ice.

 Chapter 12 – Cold

    The warm feeling beneath their skin was something of a lie. Although their insides felt warm and the frost hadn¡¯t bitten their skin, the outside of their skin felt overwhelmingly cold. If anything, the warmth under the skin made the cold on the skin feel far, far worse. There was little Lotus could do about it, save maybe going back and making warm clothes, but going back wasn¡¯t an option they had, apparently. The talking polar bear insisted that going back would just make matters worse, somehow, and his tree wife didn¡¯t seem to be able to feel cold. Dawn was also no help, as the cold seemed to have made her dizzy and she was leaning on Lotus just to walk straight.


    As they climbed the hill mountain sized glacier, they found traces of creatures living there. Snow leopard like creatures attacked them on more than one occasion. They were about the height of a table each, and had a sleek cat shape, with long, curved and jagged, blade like horns protruding back out of their skulls, behind the ears. A purple-blue lightning arced between the horns of each beast and could travel through the creatures¡¯ fur to coat their claws. Despite the individual strength of the creatures, they employed hit and run tactics, often attacking from behind.


    When an attack came, Lotus pushed Dawn to the ground and brought her scythe up to defend. The creatures¡¯ attacks sliced through where Dawn had been and were repelled by the weapon¡¯s sturdy snath(Note 1). While they were pushed back Lotus brought the heavy blade down on one of the leopards. It didn¡¯t die but it was held in place long enough for Dima to get a clear shot. The loud shot rang out and echoed across the icy mountain as the creature fell to the ground with a smooth metal chunk bored through the thin section of its skull, near its ears. The other Leopard that Lotus knocked back was sliced into several bloody pieces by Oak, who used two large swords as easily as if they weighed as much as kitchen knives.


    The oddest part wasn¡¯t Oak¡¯s abundant and inexplicable strength, but that Oak didn¡¯t have hands. Her arms were as cylindrical as her body and ended with a flat surface. Somehow, when she went to pick anything up they just stuck to the flatness. Furthermore, she could choose what stuck and what didn¡¯t and even rotate attached objects. It was like she had a pair of invisible hands. And not just two hands either, so long as there was space to place it, she could hold as many objects as she could lift. Lotus had noticed that Oak would place both her massive swords on one arm when she wanted to have a free hand.


    When they reached about half way up the glacier they found a flat section. It was a relatively smooth and flat area that was roughly circular with a twenty meter radius. Towards a shaded area was a space that seemed to have been frequently used as a camp site. There was the remains of a fire pit and a few cut logs around it, that were as close to being a seat as anyone could expect in the wilderness. One of the previous travellers that passed through there had apparently left a pile of firewood with a cover over it to keep the wood dry. Normally, that would mean that they were close by or intended to come back, but the snow over the cover was too thick for that to be true.  Regardless, they were thankful for the convenient fire. With Dawn still too out of it to be useful, and neither Dima nor Oak being even slightly talented at cooking, it was up to Lotus to make the lunch.


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    As it turned out, not only were the Leopards a wealth of craft materials, they also tasted very nice when fried with a relish. It wasn¡¯t a complicated dish, just meat cooked with sauce, but the flavour still deep and complicated. Once she had eaten and been next to a fire for a while, Dawn seemed to become more alert. In her newfound awakened state, she set to work making some thick coats from the Leopard skins.


    While Dawn worked and Lotus started to clean the cooking utensils, Dima and Oak went to check out a nearby frozen lake. From the campfire, some stick like object could be seen jutting out of the ice. As they went over to investigate, Lotus wondered briefly how much Oak weighed and if the ice could support her, but dismissed the idea offhand. Despite her appearance and voice, Oak seemed to be quite cunning; Lotus often felt that she had to watch out for her. Knowing that, Lotus was sure that Oak knew her limits and wouldn¡¯t be walking out if she didn¡¯t think it would hold.


    While they worked, Lotus had another stray though. How long had it been since she logged out? It she was used to playing for extremely long periods of time, as time in virtual reality games often passed slower than in the real world. The exact difference was usually listed in the manual, but Saviours of the Wild was technically an illegal game, and really didn¡¯t come with one. To pass time, she looked through the forum to see if anyone knew.


    Surprisingly there were very few results, as if only a few people cared or someone had deleted the threads. Normally thread deleting caused a much bigger stir about an issue and no one was complaining about that, so it was more likely that people weren¡¯t noticing it.


    Another odd thing was the inconsistency between the people that did post about it. It wasn¡¯t a particularly hard thing to test; you set a timer in the real, log in, count to sixty and log out. The ratio between the time on the clock and the counted out minute was the time dilation factor. If you wanted to be more exact you¡¯d have to subtract the time you spent logging in and out, but the test was close enough for a rough answer.


    Given how simple the test was, that one person said a minute in life was an hour in game and another said it was a full day as a nearly impossible result. Furthermore, there were other people that said there was no time difference and others that said no time had passed. Neither of those results was likely as time not passing outside was actually impossible and since she had spent a month in game, her body would have died a long time ago.


    As she thought about it, and became more worried by the second, she heard a thunderous crack followed by the sound of a heavy object hitting water. Turing to face the frozen lake she could see Dima and Oak sink rapidly into the water.


    Without a moment to loose, she stopped what she was doing and ran to the water¡¯s edge. Searching through her bag she brought out a small blue-white seed.


    Notes:


    1) A snath is the shaft of a scythe, apparently. It doesn¡¯t apply to other tools, like shovels for example, and seems to be unique to scythes.

 Chapter 13 – Beneath the Ice

    Oak was getting more and more frustrated as the day passed. At first she felt okay with teaming up with Lotus and Dawn since she felt that they were obviously a couple, but when she saw how worried Dima was over their reactions to the cold she couldn¡¯t help but feel jealous. To make matters worse for her, she got the feeling that she didn¡¯t look cute when she used her weapons. Her innate cuteness was one of her proudest features and seeing her husband have a passing glint of fear in his eyes really hurt her.


    Seeing how happy Dima looked while eating lunch also made her clench her swords harder. Did her think less of his wife just because she couldn¡¯t cook? Finding out the answer could crush her, so she kept it to herself and let the curiosity eat at her. After they had eaten, Oak made a vague excuse for the two of them to separate; something to do with investigating a log sticking out of the surface of the lake. With that, she could have more time with just Dima to show off her good points.


    As they approached the icy water they noticed that it wasn¡¯t a stick or log but was instead a pale woman¡¯s arm reaching out. Sweeping away the snow cover, they could see the appearance of a unnatural beauty beneath the ice. Thin, pale with deep black short cut hair and piecing green eyes; she looked like a queen. Her face seemed to be locked in a state of pure determinations, as if she was ice-locked while pushing herself forward to survive. While Oak admitted that she was defiantly pretty, she didn¡¯t like how focused Dima was. If he had time to stare at a woman, he should just stare at her.


    Annoyed at his lack of attention, Oak moved further out without watching her footing. A thunderous crack suddenly rang out and she could see the ice splitting. She turned to reach Dima, but before she could move from that spot the ground beneath her feet gave out. Trying to hold her breath, she looked around. The cold frosted over her sight. She couldn¡¯t see. Panic rose as she sank further and further. Suddenly, through the blackness, she could feel something wrapping around her and pulling her. While she felt relieved that she was being pulled to the surface, she was panicked by the feeling of cold that invaded her body. Even in the snow, she had never felt the sensation of being cold, and the alien feeling cut into her like knives.


    With the painful cold invading her body, she let out her breath and fainted beneath the water.


    When she awoke next she was next to the fire. Her armour had been removed and she was placed between thick pelts. Looking around she could see that her vision was still slightly blurred from frost, but at least she felt warm again. Looking in the pelts she could see her husband was in them with her. She could see Dawn giving her a knowing look and Oak could only think ¡®good job¡¯ to herself. On the other side of the camp she could see Lotus was talking to the queen beneath the ice. She seemed to be entirely healthy, despite having been trapped underwater. She seemed to have dried herself off and her colour looked much healthier. If she were to introduce herself as an ancient Egyptian queen, with her appearance, there would be few that would disbelieve it.


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    Looking at the two, the strange woman and Lotus, they looked oddly similar. Oak thought that they might even be relatives. The woman looked like a slightly older version of Lotus, maybe an older sister or mother; if that were the case than it was a strange coincidence. Of cause, she didn¡¯t really know that much about Lotus, so it was entirely possible that she came here deliberately to find a lost sister. The point that really sold her about them being related was their eyes. They both had such piercing green eyes, so fierce that they could be seen through frosted sight and across the fire.


    Listening to their conversation it seemed that the woman¡¯s name was Lucy and she was some kind of merchant. Lotus also seemed to be very close to her also, so her relative theory might still be true. The details were hard to make out but it seemed that Lucy wanted to make some kind of a discounted trade with Lotus as a way of saying thanks. From that, Oak was able to work out that it was Lotus that fished them out of the water. Noticing that, she could see that the fire wasn¡¯t burning wood, but instead some kind of thick blue-white vine plant that had been sliced into sections. Oak recognised that plant. It was the Heat-Seeking Ice Hunter. Lotus had them search for an hour at the border between the desert and ice lake for its seed. It only grew in cold environments and attacked creatures, killing them by draining the heat from them. The border was one of the only places that seed could be safely gotten as the desert heat kept them docile.


    When Lotus eventually found one seed she seemed like she had found the most valuable thing on earth. She rubbed it on her cheek and treated it like a child. Oak never would have expected Lotus to be willing to use such a valuable item to save them. Maybe she would write them a bill for it later. Maybe she would march them back to the border and have them look for another one. Either way, she had a new-found fear of that plant. Having never experienced cold, a plant that could fill her with that sensation was the scariest thing she had ever seen. It wasn¡¯t just that it would kill her, plenty of things could do that, it was that cold itself that filled her with dread. Knowing that her husband felt that feeling while in that place maybe even to a greater extent, filled Oak with a sense of utter fear.


    She pulled him closer in her arms. Having experienced cold, she could understand his earlier concern for Dawn and Lotus. The jealousy she had felt was replaced by a pride in her Dima¡¯s kindness. Holding him in her arms she circulated her spirit throughout her body to make it warmer. She didn¡¯t want him to have to feel cold ever again.


    As Oaked was lost in her own thoughts, Lotus and Lucy exchanged parcels. Waving happily, Lucy left the camp and stated a trip down the glacier.

 Chapter 14 – Demon’s Seed

    The Heat-Seeking Ice Hunter seed that Lotus had thrown was an expensive thing, and a dangerous one in such a cold place. She wouldn¡¯t have used it but none of the other plants she had could both survive the cold and support Oak and Dima¡¯s weight. As the blue-white plant grew it coiled through the water like a snake; trying to reach the source of heat so close to its grasp. On land it wasn¡¯t much better, as Lotus avoided the plant that was trying to grasp her. She yelled out to Dawn, telling her to use her voice.


    Dawn focused her energy and waited till the plant had pulled their companions from the water. When they were clear, she yelled ¡®slice¡¯ with her ability and caused the plant to fall to pieces with clean cuts. Dawn then fell back into dizziness. Lotus hurried to treat her new patients. Luckily, they Dima had consumed the cold protection potion and didn¡¯t seem to have breathed in any water. When he recovered from the shock he would probably wake up.


    Oak on the other hand, seemed to be in a much worse condition. Lotus left Dawn to take care of Dima while she went to work. She immediately brought the heavy tree spirit close to the fire and laid her on some pelts. Her armour was frozen in place and had to be levered off with a dagger. The worst injury was a frost burn around her body where the plant had gasped her. Lotus wasn¡¯t entirely sure about how to go about treating her, and immediately gave up on herbal remedies. Instead she used more of her druid power.


    Mend plant and heal tree didn¡¯t seem to have any effect. The improved version, restore nature, also did nothing. From that she realised that, despite how she looked, Oak wasn¡¯t a plant as far as her magic was concerned. That considerably lowered the number of spells she could use. In the end she modified the heal animal spell infill it had some small effect, than repeated that till it was fully healed. It was crude and inefficient, but it eventually got the job done.


    When oak had recovered and was resting, Lotus noticed that an extra person had been pulled out of the ice. She was above average looking and a little older then herself. There was something familiar about her that she couldn¡¯t put her figure on. Lotus would have been more worried about her, since she had been in the ice, but she was standing up and stretching like she had woken up from a nap. Furthermore, her clothes dried in an instant and colour rapidly returned to her face. With a still sleepy face the woman spoke with a yawn.


    ¡°Morning.¡±


    Lotus resisted the urge to correct her and point out that it was well into the afternoon, but instead returned the greeting.


    ¡°Good morning to you, too.¡± On hearing a reply the woman seemed to wake up more and look at Lotus clearly. Her green eyes locked with her own and Lotus was reminded of the dreams she had had since she started playing the game. Her dreams were when she felt like she was talking to the 13th world.


    ¡°Eh? W-who might you be?¡± the woman somewhat timidly asked, ¡°Did you, by any chance, save me from the ice?¡± Her timid attitude was far in contrast with her appearance. Her face looked like it was carved from pure determination, but when she spoke her image broke.


    Lotus introduced herself and confirmed that she pulled her from the ice. The woman introduced herself as Lotus a demon organ merchant. Her trade was how she was able to survive under the ice. Demons were often similar to humans in appearance and anatomy. As such, a demon organ merchant would preserve the fresh organs of a demon and transplant them into customers. Class-wise it seemed that to become one, levels had to be taken as both an apothecary and a demonologist.


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    A lot of Lucy¡¯s internal organs had been replaced with demonic parts and as such being under the ice like that only put her to sleep. Unfortunately, the reason she was in the ice in the first place was because she had been robbed. She wanted to repay Lotus for helping her but didn¡¯t have much on her to do that. As Lucy had once been an apothecary, she knew all too well how much the seed that had saved her was worth.


    One thing that she did have, however, was a small opal-like seed that had colours like a nebula, like a night sky far from city lights. Its colours and lights seemed to move and have no fixed position. If was solid in the hand but they moved like it was a liquid of gas. Lucy explained that it was a type of demon seed called a devouring shield seed.  Demon seeds were, as the name suggested, seeds that came from a demonic plant. They had both demon properties and plant properties making them useful for a number of classes. Unfortunately, true demonic plants were rare and if they lived long enough, they could become sentient. The devouring shield seed could be implanted under the skin of a section of a body and grow a light-weight and durable armour that would regenerate if damaged.


    It was worth far more than the Heat-Seeking Ice Hunter seed Lotus had used. As such, wanting to maintain a long lasting relationship, Lotus accepted the seed only in exchange for some healing poultices and leopard horns. She still profited heavily from the trade but both sides could at least feel like they gained something.


    After talking for a short while longer Lucy said her farewells and promised to meet again after she got her trade back up and running. She made her way down the mountain alone but seemingly in high spirits. To Lotus, she felt kind of like the big sister she never had, and it was comforting to know someone like that. With Lucy gone, Lotus checked on everyone¡¯s condition. Dima was still out cold, though healing well, and Oak seemed to be pretending to sleep. It didn¡¯t bother Lotus that she was faking; she just thought it was another one of her quirks relating to her husband.


    Dawn on the other hand seemed to have acclimatised to the cold, albeit with the help of the fire, and was able to walk away from the camp without getting dizzy. Since the couple were going to be out till at least the next day, Lotus decided to take Dawn and hunt for dinner. With some luck, they came across some more leopards. Taking them down easily, they dismantled them and returned to camp.

 Chapter 15 – Mind Eating Fog

    Chapter 15 ¨C Mind Eating Fog


    Roland was once again caught in a death spiral. As he lay against the hot sand of a desert, with spines from a dozen huge echidna-like creatures digging deeply through his flesh, he started to wonder when the last time he took a break was. Thinking about it was hard. It wasn¡¯t just that the pain through his body was truly overbearing, but if felt like a fog filled his mind when he tried to think about it.


    The fog didn¡¯t just make remembering it hard, he could also feel it sap his curiosity and after a few moments he became apathetic towards knowing. ¡®Strange. That was strange, right?¡¯ he thought to himself, ¡®I don¡¯t remember ever feeling like that before¡­ before when? Ah, that¡¯s right, before coming to this world. World? No, that¡¯s not right. It¡¯s a game, not a world. How did I get that mixed up?¡¯


    For some reason, he felt like there were problems with his memories, but they were at best vague doubts. Roland also found it strange that he had forgotten that he was in a game. That should be the most obvious part. He would be more worried about his impending death if he wasn¡¯t. Yet, looking around with his one still intact eye, he couldn¡¯t help but feel some doubt that the world was fiction. He had played other virtual games, but none of them could come close to the feeling this one gave. It might just be the pain talking, but the world was just too real to be fake. ¡°Ah, I called it a world again.¡± Those words leaked out his pierced throat as his vision faded once again to black and death embraced him once again.


    As the menu appeared once again before his eyes and his hand moved, almost on instinct to the re-spawn option, a flash of sudden realisation struck him. There was no option to log out. That was weird. He was sure there had been one before. Considering the number of times he had died, why hadn¡¯t he noticed it before? It was way too strange that he hadn¡¯t noticed it gone before. For that matter, he couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had seen it. Free from his body, the fog didn¡¯t fill his mind and once again he tried to remember the last time he had logged out.


    He realised it then. He hadn¡¯t. Not once since he started playing had he logged out. That seemed impossible. He had been playing for at least a couple months. The best time dilation factor ever recorded was one hour to one day, and doing so resulted in heavy trauma to the brain. If he had been in there for two months, say fifty-six days, then two and a third days would have passed in the real world. There was no way that no-one would have hit the emergency disengage by then. He lived with two flatmates who understood game safety. There was no way they wouldn¡¯t have noticed a problem.


    It was also strange since he had seen people log out. When he was still leading the expansion army he often gave other people time off to log out. He would leave trails and markings for them to follow when they logged back in. They were physical trails, so he wasn¡¯t just misremembering. What if he was the only one that was stuck? What if his flatmates had forgotten or gone on a trip and his body was left there, slowly dying? How much time did he have left? He had no way of knowing.


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    As he started to panic, he could feel a faint, brutish, laughter in the back of his mind. It felt like he was being mocked by something very close to him, like his body or instincts were criticising him. The familiar feeling then seemed to form words, but not words. It was like he was remembering words that he had yet to hear. They didn¡¯t resonate from outside his body and he didn¡¯t know which words, exactly, were felt. It was more like the intentions behind the words were simply appearing in the back of his mind. He felt it say, ¡®Stop thinking too hard, my chosen warrior, just keep fighting till your soul can¡¯t take anymore or there is nothing left to kill.¡¯


    A moment later, he had re-spawned and was standing once again at the natural shrine in the middle of a desert. The monsters that had killed him several times still surrounded him. He knew that he hadn¡¯t selected the option, but he had once again forgotten why he hesitated. The fog had once again filled his mind and his doubts and fears were gone. All that was left was the pain and bloodlust.


    With newfound confidence and vigour, he leapt forward and lashed at a spiked creature¡¯s head. The creature died from the unexpected attack, but still managed to place its spines in the path of Roland¡¯s momentum. He didn¡¯t hesitate or avoid. He turned in the air and let the spines pierce his back. With holes covering his back and fracturing his bones, he fought on. After continuing on like that for several more deaths, he was eventually alone on the sand.


    Truthfully, he hated natural shines. They were death traps that he always seemed to get caught in. He would have smashed it then and there, but he knew that the angels that saved him had cleaned one. He felt that if he kept finding them, one-day he could find them again. He knew that they weren¡¯t in the forest anymore; he had teams of players search every inch for a week with no leads.


    His only clue was the god-forsaken natural shrine. It was his driving force, what he got up for each day. Long ago the drive to simply protect his friends stopped being enough for him. His goal now was much nobler to him. He would find the angels and make them his. The feelings of the divine creatures meant nothing to him. He would possess them. For that reason he stood in front of the standing stone he hated more than anything. He even had a witch doctor friend of his make him a special item; a special type of jar that could capture a soul. Soul capturing jars were a common item for a witch doctor, but his friend managed to make one that could be used by anyone. It was far, far more expensive to make then a normal one, but Roland didn¡¯t mind the cost for what he had in mind.


    When he found his angels, he would kill them, as painlessly as possible, and seal their souls. Once he had their souls he would wait for them to revive and use the souls for force them to obey him. He wouldn¡¯t give them a choice; they would serve him in every way. They would accept his love and they would never leave him.

 Chapter 16 – The Brothers’ Struggle Part 1

    Chapter 16 ¨C The Brothers¡¯ Struggle Part 1


    John ducked behind a tree as it was quickly turned into a pincushion by arrows, bolts, bullets and rays. As it turned out, the proprietor of Fred¡¯s Discount Swords was no fool and was able to see through the brother¡¯s grift. As such John found himself hunted through the woods, separated from his brother, with his prised cart and liquor supply burnt to the ground. He would have preferred it if they had robbed him; burning it was a waste of good drink.


    The worst part of losing his booze was that it meant he couldn¡¯t fight back. Well, couldn¡¯t effectively fight back. A bartender gained more abilities the more they drank. Having no drinks meant no power.  One of the only abilities he could use was his 80? flame ability. When he first got it, he could only adjust the temperature of existing fire, but when he practiced it a lot he became able to make a small, somewhat warm, fire in the pam of his hand. He thought of it as warm, but compared to normal fire, you could probably call it cold. Still, he could burn paper and cloth with it and it made a handy light. Its main purpose seemed to be brewing drinks mid-air. He didn¡¯t know how that worked; it just seemed to.


    He ran a hand through his hair with frustration and thought about what to do next. If Jacob were there, they might be able to win a fight. Alone, running was about all he could manage. He had though that they would have stopped chasing if he ran far enough, but they hunted him like wolves. His one real option was to run towards the most dangerous monsters he could find and that the so called ¡®players¡¯ tasted better than he did. Not that that would stop them. Those demonic bastards didn¡¯t die when you killed them. It was extremely unnerving. As much as he was grateful he wasn¡¯t in the great city when it fell, he did miss the good old days when you could put a knife in a guy and feel safe knowing he¡¯d never bother you again.


    The woods he ran through were uncomfortably hot, a temperature that was made worse by an unnaturally dry climate. Part of him wondered how the woods stayed so green despite the lack of water. He quickly pushed those thoughts down and continued to push himself forward. As he ran a bolt struck deep into his calf. The metal hit bone and he could feel a shattering pain spread through his fatigued body. The effort involved in moving to that point had numbed his body but that blissful comfort had disappeared in a moment to be replaced by the agony of hellfire, eating away it his leg.


    As he collapsed heavily to the ground, like a felled tree or a sack or rocks, he began to roll down a nearby steep decline. Unable to control his speed, he rolled ever faster, praying to whatever would listen that he wouldn¡¯t hit a tree.


    Apparently his plea went unheard, or at least ignored, as just as he reached the peak of his speed he collided with an old and rotting tree. John struck the thin thing side on, and he could feel his body contort and break, struggling to shape itself around the tree. The tree also had a hard time dealing with the impact, breaking under the strain and rot. It fell on top of him, though it was braced by its stump and the hill and there was little pressure on his broken body.


    He could hear a distant cracking sound and felt his mind slip and blackness overtake his sight.


    He came back to his senses, after an indeterminable amount of time, in an instant. The sharp pain from his leg magnified itself several times over, as a hoard of rats stripped the flesh from his leg. He screamed and panicked. He kicked and battered them with his other leg and a branch. Seeing him active again, the rats fled.


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    His leg was beyond hope. What remained of it was a blood soaked stub. He could feel his blood flowing steadily from what was left of his leg. While the shock was still fresh, while he couldn¡¯t truly feel it, he lit his 80? flame and started to sear the wound. The fire was nowhere near hot enough to seal it in an instant and instead was a slow boil. If he had been thinking more clearly, he could have used his flame to light the wooden club then used that to seal it faster. Instead he prolonged his own pain and suffering. After nearly a full minute of burning his skin, the job was done. He felt weak. The blessing of sleep called to him. If he had been even the slightest bit wearier he would have passed out again. However, he knew that if he did, the rats would return and he wouldn¡¯t wake up.


    Bracing himself on a long branch he pushed himself up. He was in a dark and cold cave or cavern with nearly no light aside from his flame. What little light that occurred naturally in that place was the result of some glowing bugs of unusual size. The air of the cavern didn¡¯t provide any answers as to which way to go; it flowed strongly in one direction then turned around and blew the other. It was like the steady breathing of a giant.


    He pushed himself forward once more, hopping slowly for each step, hoping that the stick he relied on would hold. He coughed, phlegm filled his throat and he struggled to get air. Panic and will to live fired once more and he started striking his chest. Shaking, coughing; he tried all he could to grasp air. He fell forward as his struggles broke his brace and he hit the cold stone ground with a sharp impact.


    Luckily the impact dislodged the phlegm and he could breathe again. The bad news was that the phlegm was actually blood and a broken rib was likely lodged somewhere it shouldn¡¯t be. He crawled, almost dragged, himself. He could hear the rats, like vultures, waiting for him to stop; waiting for an easy meal.


    As they flooded towards him he had some of his first good luck of the day; he recognised a nearby tree-root that was protruding from the cave-wall. It was the root of a tree that was jokingly called a booze-bush. One of its unique traits was that the roots contained a very high sugar content and as the tree started to die, they would ferment into a very sweet liquor.


    Grabbling at the root and breaking it off, he prayed that the tree was dead. This time is prayer was answered and he could hear the soothing slosh of the viscid brew. Without a moment to loose, he downed the drink and activated one of his best bartender abilities. A green-purple flame burst from him mouth, spreading like a serpent through the air. The rats tried to react but within a moment the cave was alight with the spirit fed fire. He could hear the screeching and smell the scent of burning hair.


    With some small satisfaction he lay on his back and let out a laugh. Pain filled his body beyond anything he had ever imagined possible but that stilled seemed small compared to the simple joy of killing a rat. More than anything else, he hated the world.

 Chapter 17 - The Brothers’ Struggle Part 2

    Chapter 17 - The Brothers¡¯ Struggle Part 2


    Jacob strolled slowly across a field. A soft wind blew across his skin, slightly lowering the temperature in a comfortable way. Furthermore, carried on the wind was the scent of something sweet. Aside from the one setback, his cart being set on fire, the day couldn¡¯t be any nicer.


    Well, the fire and the basically immortal people trying to kill him. That was a little bothersome also. The first few times he snapped their necks and crushed their bodies was fun, but as the saying goes; no axe stays sharp forever. Or was that about taking break? Something about practice, maybe? Whatever the saying he was trying to think of, it didn¡¯t matter. He was as strong, fast and health as twenty people so he had no problems dealing with the attacks.


    He also noticed that if he stole a piece of equipment before they died, they didn¡¯t have it when they resurrected. That was turning into something of a game; take a piece of equipment and bury it before the ¡®player¡¯ caught up to him again. They seemed very much attached to their stuff; that made their expressions far funnier when they noticed he didn¡¯t have them.


    Maybe once they didn¡¯t have anything left they¡¯d stop fighting. That said, he had no idea where he was going. He was following the pleasant smell because he was hungry and it seemed to be in the opposite direction to Fred¡¯s Discount Swords. Not that it really mattered. John tended to worry too much about the journey; Jacob knew that enjoying the destination was what mattered. Was that right? He got the feeling that he was forgetting a saying again. There seemed to be a lot of those and remembering them was a lot of work. It might even be harder to remember them than to remember everyone he had robbed.


    That was another one of his brother¡¯s problems; he tried to remember everyone they cheated. Jacob honestly couldn¡¯t see the point. John would say something about knowing who to look out for, but if a problem showed up they could just deal with it then. Dealing with a problem before it became a problem was simply making work.  Did that count as a saying? If it didn¡¯t, he thought he should make it one.


    As he strolled through the soft green field, he took a moment to take his shoes off. The grass between his feet was inviting and the sun warmed his blood like a fine drink. A fine drink would be one of the few good points his brother had. He had never met anyone that could make a better liquor then John. Ah, that¡¯s right. The drinks were in the cart. Suddenly, the fire seemed like a much worse situation. Thankfully, one of the ¡®players¡¯ approaching him seemed to have a wine-skin.


    After that person¡¯s head was severed from their body with their own sword, he grabbed the drink. Kicking the body into the chest of another attacker he uncorked the wine-skin and took a swig. To his absolute disgust, some loathsome trickster had filled it with water. What a bastard. Who would do something like that? It just seemed completely cruel.


    He pelted the bottle into a nearby assailant and created a very satisfying cack as they fell dead from the impact. He then proceeded to finish of the remaining people with a series of destructive kicks. It was unfortunate, but he hadn¡¯t needed to draw a weapon to kill someone for a long time. It was almost enough to make him regret taking so much power. It wasn¡¯t enough, just close to.


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    Before long he found the souse of the smell. It was a chef. A chef was apparently a better cook. It seemed strange to Jacob that someone would put so much work into becoming that good at cooking just to be backing in the middle of no-where. Then again, he didn¡¯t understand most of what ¡®players¡¯ did. Resurrecting probably resulted in brain damage. That made a lot of sense to him. High level ¡®players¡¯ tended to act the strangest and die the most often. Cause and effect there, if he ever heard it; Straight up karma.


    The chef was cooking some kind of pie in a pot over a fire. From what he could smell, it was some kind of spiced apple dish. Furthermore, he was working on some kind of source. Jacob watched as the man pulled out a bottle of fine wine, poured it into the source and set it on fire while mixing it through. That filled Jacob with black hate and he ran towards the man at his fastest speed. Before the man even noticed him he was dead. Jacob quickly doused the fire, but found he was too late to save the drink. As a last ditch effort he snatched the bottle and prayed for even a drop. His prayers were either unheard or ignored, since the bottle was dry.


    After eating the pie and killing the hunters another time, he started walking again. Towards the centre of the grasslands, he found a small wooden cabin. Within it he found a woman sitting alone at a table. From what he could see, she seemed to live alone there, and didn¡¯t seem to be a ¡®player¡¯. A cruel smile spread across his face and he invited himself into the house. She tried to run, be he blocked the only exit.


    With him at the door, she backed herself into the corner crying, ¡°Please don¡¯t come closer¡± as if she though that would somehow stop him. As he got closer as just kept annoyingly repeating herself. With very step closer, she seemed to just get louder. Didn¡¯t she know how annoying that was? Didn¡¯t she know that if a thing doesn¡¯t work, something else should be tried? Maybe she was bad in the head. That seemed likely. Who else but someone with a bad head would live alone in a house in the middle of a field?


    When she was within arm¡¯s reach, he tore at her shirt, splitting it open and let the plentiful contents spill out. His joy was short-lived, however, as beneath the shirt along her stomach, was a large eye vertically aligned and starting up at his face. Its cold blue colour matched the woman¡¯s other eyes and matched her creamy copper-blond hair surprisingly well. Meeting the third-eye¡¯s gaze filled him with an uncomfortable feeling, like a tingly feeling that started from his toes.


    Taking a quick look at his feet he started to see the cause of the feeling; his toes had melted and the dissolving was spreading further up his feet.


    Without a moment¡¯s hesitation he ran. He ran for the door and slammed it behind him.

 Chapter 18 – The Fourth Demi-Goddess

    Chapter 18 ¨C The Fourth Demi-Goddess


    After a night sleeping on the flatland of the glazier, Dawn, Dima, Lotus and Oak set out to finish climbing the hill. Dawn had taken the final watch for the night and had ensured that the anti-cold potions had defrosted during the night. As they had been in Dima¡¯s pouch when they went into the water, like most of his equipment they were either soaked or frozen. Thankfully, the seals on the bottles had held and the potions weren¡¯t diluted. Dima¡¯s cartridges weren¡¯t as lucky. Since it would be dangerous to dry them out too quickly, they would have to wait till they sun-dried over a few days. Given that, Dima wouldn¡¯t be able to use his rifle.


    Dawn didn¡¯t want to laugh at his misery, but she had been feeling unneeded, and having someone less useful than herself filled the gap and made her feel useful. Oak seemed somewhat happy about it also. It was had to notice, given her alien appearance, but Dawn noticed that when she was happy, the light on her head seemed to bob slightly from side to side. It was somewhat cute to see; Oak was happy that Dima was relying on her, albeit reluctantly. The adorableness of the couple aside, Dawn was a little jealous of oak; she wished that Lotus would rely on her more. Before the ice cracked, Lotus seemed to be thinking deeply about something and was worried about it. If she was worrying, then she should just talk to her.


    Also, when she was talking to Lucy, she barely even noticed Dawn was there. Dawn wasn¡¯t sure if it was embarrassment, but it kind of hurt that Lotus didn¡¯t introduce her to someone who was quite obviously her sister. It was strange that they pretended not to know each other, but that was probably something they agreed to in the real. That was probably it, she didn¡¯t introduce her because of that agreement; it had to be that. Still, given the size of the game, what were the chances that they would bump into each other? That could have also been something they talked about in the real, her sister needed help so Lotus headed straight there. The talk about rare herbs and stones was just to convince her to come with her and hide her embarrassment. Yep, that was defiantly it. Still, her sister seemed really strong; could she have been from the first wave? It was also cute that they both chose the same class. Thinking about it, Lotus could have chosen her class because she wanted to be like her big sister. That was adorable! There was no way she could get her to admit it, but that had to be the reason.


    Without noticing it, the group had started walking and Dawn had been following while day-dreaming.  At the peak of the iceberg, encased on three sides was a strange white stone brick temple-like building. It was shaped like three rectangles of the same length arranged in a ¡®u¡¯ shape. There were some kind of elaborate etchings along the gutters, but the details couldn¡¯t be seen through the ice and snow. In the centre of the middle rectangle, up a flight of about twelve stairs, was a pair of large metal double doors. Unlike the rest of the building, the doors seemed to be designed to be practical, like the makers wanted the building to be nice but needed to keep something out or in.


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    As they came up to the door, Dima and Oak tried the door. It wasn¡¯t locked but the cold weight made it almost as hard to open as if it were. Putting their combined effort into it, the four of them were able to push the door open. Through the door they found a large hall, about thirty meters by twenty meters. The building wasn¡¯t three equal size rooms but instead one large room and two small. The room was filled with large wooden tables, the tops of which seemed to be made from single sheets of incredibly long wood. The chairs were also made from a smooth dark wood and the hall could sit hundreds of people.  Directly opposite the entrance, on an elevated platform up another dozen stairs, was an elaborate golden throne that was laden with gems, that seemed to fit the etchings so well that you could be forgiven for thinking that the gems existed solely for the sake of the throne. Draping herself over the throne, with legs over the right armrest and her head sleeping against the corner, was an enchanting red haired beauty. Her smooth hair had grown out longer than her sylphlike body, flowing over the thrown like a sea of fire. As they came closer, her eyes seemed to open under heavy strain, as if it were the greatest effort imaginable.


    She looked at them, or rather through them, with a look that gave of a sense of effortless destruction; as if reducing them to nothing was less effort than it was to wake up. Her eyes were green, not a fierce green like Lotus and Lucy, but the calm, light green of a spring meadow basking in the light and wind of the season. Making no effort to hide a yawn, her full, pink lips parted to show her delicate white teeth. With a deep sigh she then spoke, in a voice melodic voice that none-the-less sounded like she was reading from a script.


    ¡°Welcome, pilgrims, to this temple, the place of worship of the spirit of the fourth world. I, the demi-goddess of lethargy, welcome you. For more information, you can ask the fourth scholar or the fourth craftsman.¡±


    With her piece said, she rested her head back against the throne and seemed to sleep once again. She made no response to any questions asked and when trying to climb the stairs, each step felt like a day¡¯s worth of effort just to lift one foot. The effort wasn¡¯t physical, but was instead emotional. She had introduced herself as lethargy, so it was likely that was what was affecting any attempt to get near her. However, even knowing that, on-one¡¯s will was strong enough to get beyond the second step.


    Even after walking away from the stairs, going on felt like too much effort. Instead, Dawn let herself fall lazily backwards, to be caught by Lotus. It wasn¡¯t even mid-day yet, but Dawn couldn¡¯t think of anything better than to simply go to sleep there in Lotus¡¯s arms. As her eyes began to shut, she could see Dima and Oak had the same idea.

 Chapter 19 – The fourth Scholar

    Chapter 19 ¨C The fourth Scholar


    Lotus wasn¡¯t entirely sure what was happening but Dawn suddenly collapsed into her arms. It happened not long after Dawn, Dima and Oak tried to get closer to the empty throne.


    As they walked into the room and got closer to the shiny seat, the rest of the group stopped to stare intently at it. Sure, it was a very pretty and valuable thing, but how were they planning to get it moving? It was a solid block of metal and rock, it wasn¡¯t going anywhere. As they stared unmoving at the empty seat, Lotus looked around the room. The room was oddly clean, no dust or dirt, and bright, despite having no lighting. It was as if the white stones of the wall absorbed the outside light and filled the room with a perfectly even level of lighting. It wasn¡¯t uncomfortable, it may have even been the most comfortable level of lighting she had seen, but it was discomforting in the sense that it felt entirely unnatural. It felt like an old game and that no shadows were being cast also fed that impression.


    When the three started to walk up the stairs, their faces seemed strained by the first step and resigned by the second. Oak managed to touch the third, but soon after, her shoulders slumped and her light drooped low in her head. She wanted to know if the light thing had a name, like ¡®eye¡¯ or ¡®nose¡¯, but was worried that might be rude. She hoped Dawn was equality curious and would cave in and ask before her. When they came down, they seemed weak and tired and started to fall asleep on the spot. She managed to catch Dawn and Dima and Oak caught each other. Lying Dawn down on the fur bedding, Lotus started to look for clues to the cause.


    She knew the cause couldn¡¯t be gas base since Oak was infected and didn¡¯t breathe. She hadn¡¯t seen any cuts, darts or needles, so that also didn¡¯t seem likely. She also didn¡¯t think Oak could bleed, or what poisons worked on her. Dawn and Dima both wore shoes with sturdy souls, so skin contact was also unlikely. Given the rapid onset and uniform effect, it was probably a magical effect of some kind. That diagnosis was bad. As an alchemist, her treatment options tended towards the arcane and treating purely magical effects required very specific plants.


    Her options as a druid weren¡¯t much better. From what she could tell, her magic seemed to amplify existing effects rather than create new ones. When she grew plants, the plants had their growth rate amplified and supplemented nutrients with magic energy. The same thing happened when she used magic to heal; the cell regeneration rate of a body was amplified. Wounds that were impossible to ever heal, and diseases like cancer, couldn¡¯t be treated. Things like a magical effect, where there was no physical reason or response from the body, weren¡¯t treatable either.


    Looking into the room to the right of the entrance she found that the simple wooden door opened smoothly, without sound or effort. The room inside was filled with stacks of leather bound books of various size and colour. In the centre of the room, sitting on a stone day-bed, was an incredibly old man, with skin like the books he surrounded himself with and a blank look in his eyes, like the world itself had betrayed him and he had nothing at all to live for. He wore a moth-eaten grey-brown robe with a simple sting belt. With his outfit and age, he had the look of a medieval monk, locked away to write copies of the bible for the whole of his life.


    As he turned to look at her, a small glint of hope seemed to appear in his eyes. He seemed to take a few moments to discern if she were real, then took a few more to remember how to speak. Above his head the two lines of text that floated there read, ¡®???, level 3 Scholar of the 4th World¡¯ and ¡®Leth¡¯s Slave¡¯. Lotus was surprised by almost everything about the man¡¯s texts. His level was really low, but she couldn¡¯t Inspect his name. His title also indicated that he was a slave; she had no idea that slavery was a thing in that world. Furthermore, he was the first other person she had met with ¡®world¡¯ in their class name, and it was a class she hadn¡¯t heard of. Was a scholar similar to an author or loremaster? Was it somehow completely different? As she thought that, a pair of system messages displayed.


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    ¡®Player Lotus Crane has encountered the lost class scholar; the class in now available for all players.¡¯


    ¡®For unlocking a new class, you have been granted that class¡¯s starting skills, research and lesser book affinity.¡¯


    From what she could tell, research seemed to be a skill similar to herbal lore, except it told her the general contents and key information of books rather than plants. It also seemed to translate game texts. When she walked into the room, the books seemed to be written in languages she hadn¡¯t seen before, but after getting the skill they appeared to be in English. It was a very useful skill in that particular situation, but she hadn¡¯t seen a single book not written by a player before. Since texts written by players, and words spoken, seemed to translate automatically, the skill seemed like it was only useful for NPC texts.


    Games that translated weren¡¯t uncommon, but the level of detail that that game went to was extraordinary; it somehow replicated the voice of the speaker. They wouldn¡¯t have noticed that they were each speaking a different language if not for Oak asking Dima about his hometown. It turned out that he lived in a remote town in Russia. From his perspective they were all speaking his language. Apparently it also seemed natural enough, and they¡¯re lips synchronised with the sounds, so he thought they also lived there.


    With that skill being of questionable worth Lotus looked at the other one. Lesser book affinity was the downgraded version of the author and loremaster ability that let them use ability books to use other class skills. If an author could use an ability for three quarters of its max than she could use it for half; that was what the skill granted. Those numbers were also variable; the exact amount depended on the skill level of both the reader and the writer. Thankfully, she knew a reasonably competent author, who used to spend a lot of time on that skill, so the obscene cost of books could be reduced slightly. That was if she could get her to wake up.


    As she looked through the skill the old man seemed to have worked up the effort to speak.


    ¡°Plea¡­ Please¡­ kill¡­ me¡­¡±, though the words were spoken no louder than a whisper with a voice that was like the personification of dust, in the silent book filled room there was no way that it couldn¡¯t be heard.

 Chapter 20 – Unending

    Chapter 20 ¨C Unending


    The 4th scholar had sat in that place for nearly a century. Even before the worlds collided, an event he didn¡¯t know happened, only the suicidal would visit a temple that made them sleep till they died. Another reason the temple had few visitors was because it was the 4th world, the world or ice and darkness. No sentient creatures, aside from demons, lived on the 4th world; it was a world of death. When he was young, only just leaving home, a rumour was going around that the previous scholar had found a way to die. At the time, he wasn¡¯t interested so he hadn¡¯t paid any attention.


    As he went to bed that night a red and green fire floated above his head. Somehow he knew. He knew that if he didn¡¯t go to the temple of the 4th world, the fire would slowly lower and devour him. The young and stupid him thought that he wanted to live and headed to that place. When he entered the temple for the first time, he was greeted by a woman on a large golden throne from across the room. She introduced herself as the demi-goddess of lethargy, or just Leth, and told him that he would be her new scholar. At first he was excited; it was an opportunity to work with the person closest to the world¡¯s spirit. He was in such good spirits at the time that he hadn¡¯t realised the implications of what she said.


    He was immortal. He still aged, for centuries on end he still aged, and nothing could kill him. If his arm were severed, it would just float in place until the wound was healed. His body functioned like an undead monster, though the books he had studied had assured him he wasn¡¯t. Although he still needed to eat and drink, he couldn¡¯t die from not doing so. Despite it not being any effort for her, Leth never created food for him, and instead left him in a wasting agony for centuries. Water, he got from the 4th Craftsman, another immortal servant.


    He also couldn¡¯t leave the temple, if he tried, the heavy metal doors simply wouldn¡¯t open for him. Even leaving his room filled him with a compulsion to return to it. If he did somehow open the door and get out, the green-red flame would appear again, but not to kill him, instead to drag him back. Given even the flame wouldn¡¯t kill him, he spent most of his days contemplating how his predecessor managed to find the sweet release of death.


    The answer came to him one day, as a powerful earthquake shook through the temple. The fire was the answer. Although the fire tried not to kill him, it only pulled him with its outer edge. It couldn¡¯t control its core. If he could force its core into contact with his head, there was no way he could recover. The only problem was, he hadn¡¯t been strong enough to pull that off for a very, very long time. He also didn¡¯t have much hope for someone else helping him, only people with world blessings could enter the temple without being effected by Leth.


    He had given up all hope and even stopped moving or drinking, when a woman one day entered his room. Turning to face her, he thought that he was hallucinating, like he had many time before. But that time was different, he never would have imagined those dangerous eyes. The fierce green of the forest; none of his books had recorded that one. Could a new world have been found? If one had been, and it didn¡¯t have a temple, then it would make sense that she could be there before him. Using a small drop of magic, he created water in his long dry throat. With the greatest effort he could manage, he was able to get his voice to wheeze out.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Plea¡­ Please¡­ kill¡­ me¡­¡± It was too quiet, to the point that he thought she wouldn¡¯t hear him. To his surprise, she gave a shrug and replied.


    ¡°Okay, sure. But only if you can tell me how to wake my friends up.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t believe it. She could see his suffering and was holding relief ransom. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what her green could represent. Putting her demand, and probable cruel nature, aside, she definitely had the power to kill him. Strung to her back was a black and red scythe, truly, she was the reaper he had longed to see. If he had any spare moisture in his body, he might have cried.


    With great effort, he moved himself up towards a pile of books in the back of the room. Buried deep in the pile was a thin black book with emerald bindings; it was the book against the cruelty of the gods. It was a small text, only thirteen pages long, that summarised how to counteract the effects of each demi-god. He flipped through to the page on the 4th world. Other pages had more written but the 4th entry was somewhat thin. It simply said, ¡®Entering the 4th temple means to sleep yourself to death. The only way to wake someone up from that state is to circulate world energy through their body and move them out of the temple as fast as possible. As only people with world energy are able to survive, there aren¡¯t any other known solutions.¡¯


    He thought that he was remembering it correctly, though he had confirmed it to be sure. She looked at the book with interest then walked quickly out of the room. He hadn¡¯t even told her yet, but she had already started to help her friends. Why had she bothered to ask him if she already knew the answer? Did she just forget and seeing the book jogged her memory? But the only copies of the book against the cruelty of the gods belonged to the world scholars; when would she have had an opportunity to read it? The green were always so enigmatic.


    He joined her in filling the fainted people with energy and moving them outside when they woke up. He could see his mistress was sleeping on the throne, but could feel her anger at him. With the people moved outside, he walked through the open door. Sure enough, the green-red fire appeared once more above his head.


    ¡°Now, please¡­ cut through the¡­ fire¡­ and strike¡­ my head.¡±


    As he finished speaking, her companions gave shocked expressions but she drew her wicked scythe. With an emotionless face, she brought the heavy blade down and finally the bliss of death filled him. His final thoughts, as his spirit left his body, were the sudden realisation that the book against the cruelty of the gods should have only had 12 pages.

 Chapter 21 – Red vs. Green

    Hi,


    SenjiQ here. The main joke of this chapter was spotted by the user Roknar, in the first chapter (long set up).


    The lack of chapters recently was due to travelling and working on some other, non-written, projects I have in the works.


    Chapter 21 ¨C Red vs. Green


    Ben Five¡¯Oh¡¯One regretted lot of things. In particular he regretted his choice of class. Like many people, when he looked at the class list he hadn¡¯t noticed a spelling mistake. When he selected the class rogue, he had instead selected rouge. It was an understandable mistake, many people didn¡¯t notice it, and many people who did assumed that it was simply a mistake by the producers.


    Unfortunately for people like Ben, the rouge class was quite intentional. Like most of the less than normal classes, the rouge seemed to be entirely illogical. It was essentially a stealth class, with skills like hide and sneak, but it also had some magic like abilities. Its spells were mostly mind-effecting, with the ability to charm or enrage, but like most spell users the spells wouldn¡¯t trigger normally. The rouge gained energy to cast its spells by absorbing the happiness of those around them. There was two ways they could go about that, they could make someone really happy and absorb the excess emotion or, do that once then use the spell Drain Emotion (Happiness).


    With the amount of work that was involved in actually making someone truly happy, the majority of rouges simply used the drain. That, of course, led to the class getting a much worse reputation than most. It was to the point that some people would simply kill a rouge on site, rather than risk having their emotions played with. Ben had experienced that first hand and was equally unwilling to trust other players.


    He had however realised that most people didn¡¯t want to read complicated things. He also realised that if he was going to survive by himself, he would need to have a broad range of skills. Knowing that, whenever he got a new level, he would select a new class rather than improving an existing one. As such, when he reached level seven, he had five classes; few people would notice his rouge class at a glance like that. Anyone that could observe him would see that he was a fighter, rouge, meteorologist, alchemist and loremaster.


    Since they all used different weapons and fighting styles, he found himself with different weapons strapped across his body. A longsword on his belt, daggers in both his boots, a bow on his back, a bandoleer of grenades and potions on his chest and a meteorologist¡¯s weather staff in his hands. To prevent himself from being weighed down, or for the weapons to make noise while he was trying to sneak, Ben strapped the weapons tightly so that they could barely move. That prevented them from being drawn in a hurry, but that suited him since he preferred to run from any confrontation he wasn¡¯t prepared for.


    His short sandy-blond hair was messy when he woke up at a bar counter. He had been living off the profits he had made by selling some stolen items. A splitting headache was what woke him, a condition that was made far worse by the busy, and loud, morning life of the village he was in. It was a fairly small town, only twenty or so wooden buildings, and it was filled entirely with NPC¡¯s; however, it was still the largest village he had come across. He was thankful to find they had a working currency system and seemed to have some kind of trade set up with a group of villages. The local dealer was more than willing to buy his goods, though he was fairly sure that he had gotten the worse end of the bargain. He didn¡¯t really care that he was cheated; the goods weren¡¯t his to begin with so it wasn¡¯t possible for him to make a loss.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The money that he made had lasted a few weeks of living in a bar. Though, it might be more accurate to say living on a bar as he spent very little time away from the tap. The last of his coin had been used the previous night, and he would need to start working again, a fact the pain in his head made him painfully aware of. He didn¡¯t normally get hung-over, but then he didn¡¯t usually stay sober long enough to fall into that condition. As he left the bar and stumbled across the soft town grass, working his way towards a well, a cold breeze caught the back of his neck. Turning away from the breeze and hunching over, letting his back act as a wind-break, he faced down the main street.


    In the centre on the town was a familiar face.


    A number of weeks earlier he had been taking a shortcut across a mountain. As he made the trip he had met a beautiful woman with black hair and striking green eyes. She was a merchant of some kind and was carrying a large backpack full of trade goods. She seemed kind, a little skittish, and altogether too willing to trust a stranger. When she was fishing for dinner through a small hole in an iced over lake, he took the opportunity to betray her.


    When she was distracted by something on her fishing line, he poured a potion across the ice, thinning and weakening it around where she sat. As she made a heavy pull on the rod, the ice gave in and she was pulled into the water. As she struggled and asked for him to help her out, he convinced her to pass her bag out first, saying that he couldn¡¯t lift both it and her at once. Maybe she was panicking, because she hadn¡¯t doubted him at all. With her bag in his hands, he poured another potion, a potion that caused the water to freeze over in an instant.


    To his surprise, the bag was filled with preserved body parts. At first he felt cheated, thinking that the organs and limbs were worthless, but to his surprise the fence that bought the stuff was very excited to see them. He wasn¡¯t sure why the deformed body parts were valuable, but he wasn¡¯t willing to stick around people who sold organs long enough to find out.


    Seeing his victim walking towards him he felt a new chill, one unrelated to the temperature. Although she seemed unarmed, her figure felt like the reaper itself as it drew ever closer. Her green eyes were focused on him and he felt his knees buckle. His legs collapsed beneath him and he lost control of his bowels. As the small woman got closer, never taking her eyes off him, she raised an arm dramatically ¡®till it was parallel to the soft, green ground. Her pale hand turned a lightless black and stretched and curved into a long, thin, curved blade.


    When she was a meter away, he noticed that he was crying. Tear flooded from his eyes and his nose dripped shamelessly. He tried to beg for forgiveness when she moved the black blade through his head.


    Sometime later, a new rumour spread through the forum. It was a ghost story about a man who died in the game and died in real life. It wasn¡¯t uncommon as far as ghost stories went; in fact, it might have been the most common. It was such a common story that it trended for a short while then was swiftly forgotten. The police that investigated the incident used it as an example of the dangers of using the illegal and uncontrolled program, but their warnings fell on deaf ears.